utterly destroyed, my poor fellow," said Lawrence, in a
tone of pity; "but it may be that your family has escaped. A good
number of people have escaped. Here are a few dollars for you. You
will need them, I fear. You can owe them to me, and pay them when next
we meet."

The gift was accompanied with a look of pleasantry, for Lawrence well
knew there was little chance of their ever meeting again.

Pedro sat regarding them with a grim smile. "You are a stout fellow,"
he said, in a tone that was not conciliatory, after the beggar had
accepted the dollars with many expressions of gratitude; "from all I
have heard of Conrad of the Mountains, you are quite a match for him, if
he were alone."

"He was not alone, senhor," replied the beggar, with a look that told of
a temper easily disturbed.

To this Pedro replied contemptuously, "Oh, indeed!" and, turning
abruptly away, rode on.

"You doubt that man?" said Lawrence, following him.

"I do."

"He looked honest."

"Men are not always to be judged by their looks."

"Das a fact!" interposed Quashy; "what would peepil judge ob _me_, now,
if dey hoed by looks?"

"They'd say you were a fine, genial, hearty, good-natured blockhead,"
said Lawrence, laughing.

"True, massa, you's right. I'm all dat an' wuss, but not _always_ dat.
Sometimes I'm roused; an' I'm _awrful_ w'en I'm roused! You should see
me w'en my back's riz. Oh _my_!"

The negro opened his eyes and mouth so awfully at the mere idea of such
a rising that his companions were fain to seek relief in laughter. Even
the grave Manuela gave way to unrestrained merriment, for if she failed
to thoroughly understand Quashy's meaning, she quite understood his
face.

That night they found welcome shelter in a small farm.

"Did you fall in with the notorious bandit, Conrad of the Mountains?"
asked their host, after the ceremonious reception of his guests was
over.

"No, senhor," answered Pedro. "Is that fellow in this neighbourhood
just now?"

"So it is said, senhor. I have not seen him myself, and should not know
him if I saw him, but from descriptions I should think it must be he. I
have a poor fellow--a peon--lying here just now, who has been robbed and
nearly murdered by him. Come, he is in the next room; you can speak to
him."

Saying this, the host introduced Pedro and Lawrence into an inner
chamber, where the wounded man lay, groaning horribly. He was very
ready, indeed eager, to give all t