aving
crossed it from the lands they once inhabited. We had little doubt that
our prisoner belonged to that tribe, and was probably a chief among
them.

My father told us of a report he had heard, of Spanish emissaries having
visited them for the purpose of inducing them to take up arms against
the Republicans; and should such be the case, the capture of our
prisoner, Kanimapo, might prove a fortunate circumstance, as we should
hold him as a hostage for their good behaviour. The next morning,
however, there appeared great probability that our hopes would be
disappointed; for on my uncle's visiting him he found him much worse.
As the day advanced, Uncle Denis expressed his fears that the Indian
would die, notwithstanding all the care bestowed on him.

Day after day, however, the wounded man lingered on. My father and
Norah were assiduous in their attentions to him; and he refused to take
such medicines as we possessed from any other hands but my sister's.
There was now no chance of his escaping, for he was too weak to walk;
indeed, he could scarcely sit up in his bed. Still, the Indians possess
wonderful vitality and endurance, which enable them to recover from
wounds of the body; but they succumb very quickly to European diseases.
Though apparently growing weaker, Kanimapo still clung to existence. He
seemed grateful, too, for the attentions shown him; but except having
mentioned his name, he had not told us who he was, nor had he given any
reason for attacking our party.

Uncle Denis had gone home; and soon after Gerald and I paid a visit at
his house. We then went on to that of our relation, Don Fernando
Serrano, where we were received by him and my cousins with the greatest
kindness. They were interested in hearing of all my adventures, and
especially in the accounts I gave them of our capturing the Indian; but
they were unable to conjecture who he was. I was delighted with all the
family, they were so gentle and loving to each other, and so kind to me.
What also surprised me much, was to find that Don Serrano regularly
read the Bible and had prayers with his family. Such a thing was at
that time probably unheard-of in South America. They did not speak
unkindly of the nearest padre, who occasionally visited them, but they
evidently held him in no respect.

"He is a poor ignorant man," observed Don Carlos, "a blind leader of the
blind; he expressed his horror at finding we read the Bible, and urged
us t