ed off to arouse the stable-hand. The stable-hand had
not been to Manoel's house. He knew nothing of what had happened. He
worked most of the night cheerfully, preparing for the welcome
camping-trip.

By noon on the following day, when streets and country roads lay
deserted under the tropic sun, the cavalcade was off. The wagon, drawn
by two mules in charge of the stable-hand, led the way. It was laden
with tent, baggage, and the women-folk, Ann, Natalie, and mammy. Behind
followed Leighton on his favorite horse and Shenton and Lewis on their
ponies. By sundown they reached the banks of the Tiete. It took men and
boys an hour to set the big bell tent.

CHAPTER VII

Because the road led north, they traveled north. Week after week, month
after month, sometimes by hard, long stretches where water was scarce,
sometimes lingering where pasturage was good, sometimes halting to let a
fever run its course, they pushed northward. The farther they went, the
more barren became the wilderness. The feudal mansions of the wealthy
coffee-planters gave way to the miserable abodes of a land of drought.
But houses were never far between, and wherever there were houses, there
was cane rum. It was so cheap it was often given away for a smile.

Twice in the long months Shenton had eluded his watchful father, once by
slipping his saddle-cloth and going back to pick it up, and once by
riding ahead on a misty morning. Each time he stole back with hanging
and drooping shoulders. The look of utter despondency and gloomy despair
in his eyes wrung his parents' hearts, held back his father's hand from
wrath.

Of them all, Shenton suffered most from fever. There came a time when he
could no longer ride. Natalie, grown pale and thin, but strong withal,
took his place on the pony and he hers on the wagon. There he lay long
hours in his mother's arms.

When all the storms of life had swept over her, Ann Leighton looked back
upon those days as the abiding-place of her dearest memories. Safe
within the circle of her arms lay her boy. There no evil could reach
him, no gnawing temptation ravage his child's will. Her watchful love
warded off the gloomy hour. His prattle of childish things warmed her
heart until it swelled to an exquisite agony of content.

One day they awoke to a new presence on the flat horizon. Far, far away
rose a mountain from the plain. It was wonderfully symmetrical, rising
to a single peak. All day long they traveled