“Good-day, friend,” said Barney, galloping towards the disappointed herdsman and addressing him in Portuguese, “could you show us the road to Rio?  We’ve lost it intirely.”

The man pointed sulkily in the direction in which they were going, and, having mended his lasso, he wheeled about and galloped after the herd of cattle.

“Bad luck to yer manners!” said Barney, as he gazed after him.  “But what can ye expect from the poor critter?  He niver larned better Come along, Martin, we’ll rest here a while.”

They were soon under the shelter of the trees, and having fastened their horses to one of them, they proceeded to search for water.  While thus employed, Barney shouted to his companion, “Come here, lad; look here.”

There was something in the tone of the Irishman’s voice that startled Martin, and he sprang hastily towards him.  Barney was standing with his arms crossed upon his chest and his head bowed forward, as he gazed with a solemn expression on the figure of a man at his feet.

“Is he ill?” inquired Martin, stooping and lifting his hand.  Starting back as he dropped it, he exclaimed, “Dead!”

“Ah, boy, he has gone to his last account.  Look at him again, Martin.  It was he who came to the mine a week ago to buy a horse, and now—­” Barney sighed as he stooped and turned the body over in order to ascertain whether he had been murdered; but there were no marks of violence to be seen.  There was bread too in his wallet; so they could come to no other conclusion than that the unhappy man had been seized with fatal illness in the lonesome wood and died there.

As they searched his clothes they found a small leathern bag, which, to their amazement, was filled with gold-dust; and in the midst of the gold was another smaller bag containing several small diamonds.

“Ha!” exclaimed Martin, “that explains his hurry.  No doubt he had made off with these, and was anxious to avoid pursuit.”

“No doubt of it,” said Barney.  “Well, thief or no thief, we must give the poor cratur’ dacent burial.  There’s not a scrap o’ paper to tell who he is or where he came from,—­a sure sign that he wasn’t what he should ha’ been.  Ah!  Martin, what will we not do for the sake o’ money! and, after all, we can’t keep it long.  May the Almighty niver let you or me set our hearts on it.”

They dug a shallow grave with their hands in a sandy spot where the soil was loose, in which they deposited the body of the unfortunate man; and then remounting their horses, rode away and left him in his lonely resting-place.

For many days did Martin and Barney travel through the land on horseback, now galloping over open campos, anon threading their way through the forest, and sometimes toiling slowly up the mountain sides.  The aspect of the country varied continually as they advanced, and the feelings of excessive hilarity with which they commenced the journey began to subside as they became accustomed to it.