For the first time in the presence of the stranger Lewis smiled.  His smile was rare and, as is often the case with a rare smile, it held accumulated charm.

“Sir,” he said, “let me cook a meal for you.”

While Lewis cooked, the stranger laid the table for two.  In less than an hour the meal was ready.  A young fowl, spitchcocked, nestled in a snowy bed of rice, each grain of which was a world unto itself.  The fowl was basted with the sovereign gravy of the South; thick, but beaten smooth, dusted with pepper and salt, breathing an essence of pork.  Beside the laden platter was a plate of crisp bread—­bread that had been soaked into freshness in a wet cloth and then toasted lightly.  Beside the bread lay a pat of fresh butter on a saucer.  It was butter from the tin, but washed white in the cool water of the spring, and then sprinkled with salt.

The stranger nodded approval as he started to eat.

“A simple meal, my accomplished friend,” he said to Lewis, “but I know the mouths of the gods are watering.”

When nothing was left of the food, the stranger, through Lewis, ordered the table cleared, then he turned to his guest.

“You have already had occasion to see how useful you would be to me,” he said.  “I propose that you seek employment no further.  Join me not as cook, but as interpreter, companion, friend in very present trouble.  I will pay you a living wage.”

Lewis’s eyes lighted up.  What wage should he demand for accompanying this strange man, who drew him as Lewis himself drew shy, wild creatures to his knee?  No wage.  No wage but service.  “I will go with you,” he said.

“Good!” said the stranger.  “Now—­where shall we go?”

“Where shall we go?” repeated Lewis, puzzled.

“Yes.  Where shall we go?”

“That is for you to say,” said Lewis, gravely, fearing a joke.

“Not at all,” said the stranger.  “To me it is a matter of complete indifference.  Of all the spots on the face of the earth, this is the last; no game, no water, no scenery, no women, no food.  And having seen the last spot on earth, direction no longer interests me.  What would you like to see?”

Lewis felt himself inside a book of fairy-tales.

“I?” he said, smiling shyly.  “I should like to see the sea again.”

“Right you are!” said the stranger.  “Tell the guide to start for the sea.”

CHAPTER XI

The stranger was accompanied by two muleteers, a cook, a wash-boy, and the guide.  Not one of these was a menial, for menials do not breed in open country.  When the stranger shouted for one of them, they all gathered round him and stood at ease, smiling at his gestures, guessing genially at what he was trying to say, and in the end calmly doing things their own way.

When Lewis called the guide, they all came, as was their custom.