"who knows
if he will ever see his dear wife at Sorata, or if he will even live to
reach Chile-Chile?"

"Do you really think him in any such danger?" asked the more suspicious
Marcoy.

"Danger! Did you not see his miserable appearance as he left us?"

"I saw an appearance far from miserable, and therefore I am convinced
that the man is no more sick than you or I."

On hearing such a heartless heresy the colonel stepped back from his
comrade with a shocked expression, and asked what had given him such an
idea.

"A number of things, of which I need only mention the principal. In the
first place, the man's sickness falling on him like a thunder-clap;
next, his haste in catching back his hand when you tried to feel his
pulse; and then his smile, at once happy and mischievous, when you
offered him the peons and he found his stratagem succeeding beyond his
hopes."

"Why, now, to think of it!" said the colonel sadly; "but what could have
been his motive?"

"This gentleman is too delicate to sustain our kind of life," suggested
Marcoy. "He is tired of skinning his hands and legs in our service, and
eating peccary, monkey and snails as we do. His Bolivians are perhaps
quite as useful for our service, and while he is rioting at Cuzco we may
be enriching ourselves with cinchonas."

In effect, on the return of the peons ten days after, the examinador was
reported to have got quit of his fever shortly after leaving Sausipata,
and to have borne the journey to Chile-Chile remarkably well. He charged
his men to take back his compliments and the regrets he felt, at not
being able to keep with the company.

Nothing detained the band longer at Sausipata. The ten days of hunting,
botanizing, butterfly-catching and sketching had been an agreeable
relief, and young Aragon had assumed, with sufficient grace, the task of
attentive host and first player on the charango. The returning porters
had scarcely enjoyed two hours of repose when the caravan took up its
march once more.

As usual, the interpreters assumed the head of the command: the Indians
followed pellmell. Observing that some of them lingered behind, Mr.
Marcoy had the curiosity to return on his steps. What was his surprise
to find these honest fellows running furiously through the farm, and
devastating with all their might those plantations which were the pride
and the hope of the nephew of Aragon! They had already laid low several
cocoa groves, torn up the sugar-canes