“You see, my young friend,” said Harris, “that it is a strong animal, and you may count on it not failing you on the route.”

Harris detached his horse, took it by the bridle, and descended the steep bank again, preceding Dick Sand.  The latter had thrown a rapid glance, as well over the river as toward the forest which shut up its two banks.  But he saw nothing of a nature to make him uneasy.

However, when he had rejoined the American, he suddenly gave him the following question, which the latter could little expect: 

“Mr. Harris,” he asked, “you have not met a Portuguese, named Negoro, in the night?”

“Negoro?” replied Harris, in the tone of a man who does not understand what is said.  “Who is this Negoro?”

“He was the cook on board,” replied Dick Sand, “and he has disappeared.”

“Drowned, perhaps,” said Harris.

“No, no,” replied Dick Sand.  “Yesterday evening he was still with us, but during the night he has left us, and he has probably ascended the steep bank of this river.  So I asked you, who have come from that side, if you had not met him.”

“I have met nobody,” replied the American; “and if your cook has ventured alone into the forest, he runs a great risk of going astray.  Perhaps we shall overtake him on the way.”

“Yes; perhaps!” replied Dick Sand.

When the two returned to the grotto, breakfast was ready.  It was composed, like the supper of the evening before, of alimentary conserves, of corned beef and of biscuit.  Harris did honor to it, like a man whom nature had endowed with a great appetite.

“Let us go,” said he; “I see that we shall not die of hunger on the way!  I shall not say as much for that poor devil of a Portuguese, of whom our young friend has spoken.”

“Ah!” said Mrs. Weldon, “Dick Sand has told you that we have not seen Negoro again?”

“Yes, Mrs. Weldon,” replied the novice.  “I desired to know if Mr. Harris had not met him.”

“No,” replied Harris; “so let us leave that deserter where he is, and think of our departure—­whenever you are ready, Mrs. Weldon.”

Each took the pack which was intended for him.  Mrs. Weldon, assisted by Hercules, placed herself on the horse, and the ungrateful little Jack, with his gun strapped on his back, straddled the animal without even thinking of thanking him who had put that excellent beast at his disposal.  Jack, placed before his mother, then said to her that he would know how to lead the gentleman’s horse very well.

They then gave him the bridle to hold, and he did not doubt that he was the veritable head of the caravan.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XVI.

ON THE WAY.