Arthur O. Friel

“ He is so anxious to avoid gratitude that he makes himself seem a headstrong, reckless fellow who would as soon kill a man as smoke a cigaret. He cuts his own throat. Perhaps it is his right to do so, but I do not like it.”
“Nor I. It is his right to conceal his real nature if he will. But it is her right to know the truth of what has been done for her—and the truth of the Indian ceremony yesterday.”
Then I stopped talking, for the pair ahead had halted and we were near enough to be overheard.
“Why, it's burned down!” cried the girl.
“Sure enough,” was Senhor Tom's answer. ”

“ Pedro demanded, his finger still on the trigger.
“River-traders, amigo. What news of Black Hawk? How come you to be alive in his land? And—Nossa Senhora! A woman! A white woman! What does this mean?”
“It means that Black Hawk is dead,” I answered. ”

“ And Pedro said, “At last we have found a use for that money we found in the foul nest of Black Hawk.”
“How?” I asked.
“As a wedding gift, of course. To keep it will bring us no luck. It was wrung by the Hawk from his victims through murder and robbery and terror, and it did him no good. It was looted by us from the camp of the tyrant we destroyed, and it will do us no good either. But now, as a pledge of friendship to those who are starting together on a new trail, it will carry with it only good will and fond remembrance.
“Viciado is cleaned. The big river-steamers will call there again. ”

“ A gentleman who does not make a show of his gentleness, but hides it. A clean-hearted man who does not wear his heart on his sleeve. A lonely man who roves deadly places because, as he himself admits, he can not find his mate. But I am speaking now of the man himself, where I meant only to tell you the bare truth of what has been done—the truth which you have every right to know. ”

“ Pedro replied coolly. “It is no loss to any one.”
And we passed on, three of us knowing the Bat's command to burn the pajé in his own house had been obeyed.
At the farther edge of the bush we found our trail, and through the forest we passed silently to the camp. Soon the canoes were loaded, and out into the stream we shoved.
“All aboard once more, and bound for Viciado,” Senhor Tom sang out. “Traveling again two by two, as the animals came from the ark. And thus endeth this chapter of our little story.” ”

“ Dead? Killed by one man? Ho-ho-ho!”
“Go on and see for yourselves. It is as I tell you. What news of Viciado?”
“Viciado has been cleaned,” was the grim answer. “You will find it safe as a church. The Hawk's tools in that town have been so well plugged with lead that they will work no more. We shall go on, friend, to make sure your tale is not a dream. We want no mistakes. But who is this woman?”
Bold eyes centered on the senhorita. They were a hard crew, those traders, and we did not like their stares at the girl. Senhor Tom arose, hand on gun. ”

“ Boat after boat went by, loaded with men and guns. Each long dugout held two or three traders and perhaps a dozen Indians—savage-looking redskins whose tribe I could not guess. Later I heard that they had been brought by the traders from the north side of the Amazon, and that they were even more fierce than they looked. In all, the boats must have held a hundred men.
At length they were gone on their useless journey. ”