“The gentlemen,” said he, gracefully getting rid of his superabundant hat, “will voluntarily excuse me for having waited so long with my respects and offers of service.  I should have gone to meet them at Marcapata, but my uncle the gobernador forbade me to do so for fear of displeasing the priest.  Gentlemen, I am Juan the nephew of Aragon.  It is by the advice of my uncle that I have come to place myself in your way, and ask if you will admit me to your company as mozo-assistant and interpreter.”

The colonel, whose antipathy to the salteador did not yield on a closer acquaintance, roughly asked the youth what he meant by his assurance.  Mr. Marcoy, however, was disposed to temporize.

“If you are Juan the nephew of Aragon,” said he, “you must have already learned from your uncle that we have engaged an interpreter, Pepe Garcia of Chile-Chile.”

“Precisely what he told me, senor,” replied the young man; “but, for my part, I thought that if one interpreter would be useful to these gentlemen on their journey, two interpreters would be a good deal better, on account of the fact that we walk better with two legs than with one:  that is the reason I have intercepted you, gentlemen.”

This opinion made everybody laugh, and as Juan considered it his privilege to laugh five times louder than any one, a quasi engagement resulted from this sudden harmony of temper.  Colonel Perez shrugged his shoulders:  Marcoy, as literary man, took down the name of the new-comer.  The nephew of Aragon was so delighted that he gave vent to a little cry of pleasure, at the same time cutting a pirouette.  This harmless caper allowed the party to detect; tied to his haversack, the local banjo, or charango, an instrument which the Paganinis of the country make for themselves out of half a calabash and the unfeeling bowels of the cat.

[Illustration:  “Gentlemen, I am Juan the nephew of Aragon.”]

The priest, who had recommended Pepe Garcia, had made mention of that person’s fine voice, with which the church of Marcapata was edified every Sunday.  The gobernador, while putting in a word for his nephew, and particularizing the beauty of his execution on the guitar, had insinuated doubts of the baritone favored by the padre.  Happy land, whose disputes are like the disputes of an opera company, and where people are recommended for business on the strength of their musical execution!

Aragon quickly understood that his friend in the expedition was not Colonel Perez, who had insultingly dubbed him the Second Fiddle (or Charango).  He attached himself therefore with the fidelity of a spaniel to Mr. Marcoy, walking alongside and resting his arm on the pommel of his saddle.  After an hour’s traverse of a comparatively desert plateau called the Pedregal, covered with rocks and smelling of the patchouli-scented flowers of the mimosa, Aragon pointed out the straw sheds and grassy plaza of Chile-Chile.  This rustic metropolis is not indicated on many maps, but for the travelers it had a special importance, bearing upon the inca history and etymological roots of Peru, for it was the residence of their interpreter-in-chief, Pepe Garcia.