Part 32 (1/2)

”We two?” says I; ”nay, we shall be three.”

”As how?” says he.

”Why,” says I, ”are we not on our road to rescue my cousin from the hands of Lewis de Pino?”

”No,” says he, stopping again; ”that are we not. For we're giving De Pino as wide a berth as I can contrive. Our factor will set out on that path as soon as he finds you flown.”

”Friend,” says I, ”'tis for you to choose betwixt going on with me to the rescue of my cousin or taking me back to the station.”

He tilted his hat forwards, and, scratching his head, was silent a minute; then, in a grumbling kind of voice, he says:

”What a plague do we want with a female?”

”Would you suffer her to go into slavery?” says I.

”They like it,” says he sullenly. ”Not at first, but after a bit. She'll be treated well, and I count she won't thank you from taking her away from a fine house and rich gowns to wander about in the woods without a roof to her head or a whole rag to her back.”

”Nor matter for that,” says I; ”she shall be taken out of the Portugal's hands if I live.”

”Well,” says he, a little more cheerfully, ”if it is to rob the Portugal, I shall be less loth; and to oblige you, more willing. We must turn back, howsomever, to those horrid rocks again.”

We turned about, and retraced our steps in silence for a while.

”Don't take it amiss, master,” says he presently, ”if I'm a little bit downhearted at the prospect of having a lady's society; but I've had so much of that sort of thing these last ten years that I shouldn't be sorry if I never saw another female.”

”How's that?” says I.

”Why, master,” says he, ”I'm married.”

”And you can quit your wife without regret?” says I.

”It ain't a wife I'm quitting without regret,” says he; ”it's twenty or thirty.”

I asked him to explain this matter; which he did forthwith, telling me that all the slaves in those mines were women, and that when one wounded herself, or fell sick by overwork, so that to save her life it was necessary she should lay up for a time, she was forthwith married to him. This strange custom perplexed me until I came to perceive the motive.

”Have you any children?” says I.

”Children!” says he; ”Lord love you, I've got sixty if I've got one. But you can't expect a father to be very partial to his children when there so many of 'em. I give you my word, I don't know Jack from Jill; and they're all orange-tawney.”

CHAPTER XLII.

WE ARE PURSUED BY DOGS AND PORTUGALS.

In this discourse we retraced our steps, and crossing the valley (yet wide of the station) we ascended again that chain of hills crossed the day before; for Lewis de Pino, as I was now informed by Matthew, had turned out of his road to sell me and traffic for gold; and after a long and painful march we came about daylight to the woods.

Here we rested, though against my inclination, being tormented with apprehensions concerning my dear Lady Biddy; but Matthew was pretty nigh spent with fatigue, having less strength than I, and none of that terrible anxiety which p.r.i.c.ked me onward. Thus, in one way and another, was a good deal of precious time lost.

When Matthew perceived that my impatience was becoming intolerable to me, he rose, and we once more pushed on. Yet he had a difficulty to keep pace with me, and from time to time he would remonstrate at my pace, saying, ”Not so fast, master--not so fast; you forget that your legs are a quarter of a yard longer than mine,” and the like.