rvation was proved by
the party coming upon, and driving away, a puma which had previously
disturbed the vultures at their banquet on the carcass of an unfortunate
ox.

The next morning Pizarro's capacity for tracking the wilderness was
proved by the party coming on the broad trail of the troops. Soon
afterwards they discovered the men themselves taking their midday
siesta.

Not long after that the united party came within scent of the Atlantic,
and on the afternoon of the same day galloped into the town of Buenos
Ayres.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

DESCRIBES SEVERAL MYSTERIOUS MEETINGS AND CONVERSATIONS.

Descriptions, however graphic or faithful, are for the most part
misleading and ineffective. Who ever went to a town or a region, and
found it to resemble the picture of it which had been previously painted
on his imagination by description?

For an account of Buenos Ayres we refer the inquiring reader to other
books.

Our business at present is with Quashy and "Sooz'n."

That sable and now united couple stand under the shade of a marble
colonnade watching with open-mouthed interest the bustle of the street
in which men and women of many nations--French, Italian, Spanish,
English, and other--are passing to and fro on business or pleasure.

This huge, populous town was not only a new sight, but an almost new
idea to the negroes, and they were lost alike in amusement and
amazement.

"Hi!" exclaimed Quashy in his falsetto, "look, look dar, Sooz'n--das
funny."

He pointed to a little boy who, squatted like a toad on a horse's back,
was galloping to market with several skins of milk slung on either side
of the saddle, so that there was no room for his legs.

"O Quash!" exclaimed the bride, "dar's pumpkins for you. Look!"

They were indeed notable pumpkins--so large that five of them completely
filled a wagon drawn by two oxen.

"But come, Sooz'n, da'ling," said Quashy, starting as if he had just
recollected something, "you said you was gwine to tell me suffin as
would make my hair stan' on end. It'll be awrful strong if it doos dat,
for my wool am stiff, an' de curls pritty tight."

"Yes, I comed here wid you a-purpose to tell you," replied the bride,
"an' to ax your 'pinion. But let's go ober to dat seat in de sun. I
not like de shade."

"Come along, den, Sooz'n. It's all one to me where we goes, for your
eyes dey make sunshine in de shade, an' suffin as good as shade in de
sunshine, ole gurl."