“Will you permit me to kiss him on his pretty cheeks?” asked Harris.

“Willingly,” replied Mrs. Weldon.

But Mr. Harris’s face, it appeared, did not please little Jack, for he clung more closely to his mother.

“Hold!” said Harris, “you do not want me to embrace you?  You are afraid of me, my good little man?”

“Excuse him, sir,” Mrs. Weldon hastened to say.  “It is timidity on his part.”

“Good! we shall become better acquainted,” replied Harris.  “Once at the Farm, he will amuse himself mounting a gentle pony, which will tell him good things of me.”

But the offer of the gentle pony did not succeed in cajoling Jack any more than the proposition to embrace Mr. Harris.

Mrs. Weldon, thus opposed, hastened to change the conversation.  They must not offend a man who had so obligingly offered his services.

During this time Dick Sand was reflecting on the proposition which had been made to them so opportunely, to gain the Farm of San Felice.  It was, as Harris had said, a journey of over two hundred miles, sometimes through forests, sometimes through plains—­a very fatiguing journey, certainly, because there were absolutely no means of transport.

The young novice then presented some observations to that effect, and waited for the reply the American was going to make.

“The journey is a little long, indeed,” replied Harris, “but I have there, a few hundred feet behind the steep bank, a horse which I count on offering to Mrs. Weldon and her son.  For us, there is nothing difficult, nor even very fatiguing in making the journey on foot.  Besides, when I spoke of two hundred miles, it was by following, as I have already done, the course of this river.  But if we go through the forest, our distance will be shortened by at least eighty miles.  Now, at the rate of ten miles a day, it seems to me that we shall arrive at the Farm without too much distress.”

Mrs. Weldon thanked the American.

“You cannot thank me better than by accepting,” replied Harris.  “Though I have never crossed this forest, I do not believe I shall be embarrassed in finding the way, being sufficiently accustomed to the pampas.  But there is a graver question—­that of food.  I have only what is barely enough for myself while on the way to the Farm of San Felice.”

“Mr. Harris,” replied Mrs. Weldon, “fortunately we have food in more than sufficient quantity, and we shall be happy to share with you.”

“Well, Mrs. Weldon, it seems to me that all is arranged for the best, and that we have only to set out.”

Harris went toward the steep bank, with the intention of going to take his horse from the place where he had left it, when Dick Sand stopped him again, by asking him a question.

To abandon the sea-coast, to force his way into the interior of the country, under that interminable forest, did not please the young novice.  The sailor reappeared in him, and either to ascend or descend the coast would be more to his mind.