SHOWS WHAT THE LOST ONES DID, AND HOW THEY WERE FOUND

The condition of being “lost” is a sad one in any circumstances, but being lost in a forest ­a virgin forest ­a forest of unknown extent, in a vast continent such as that of South America, must be admitted to be a peculiarly severe misfortune.  Nevertheless, we are bound to say that our hero and his friends did not appear to regard their lost condition in this light.  Perhaps their indifference arose partly from their ignorance of what was entailed in being lost in the forest.  The proverb says, that “where ignorance is bliss ’tis folly to be wise.”  Whether that be true or not, there can be no question that it is sometimes an advantage to be ignorant.  Had our lost friends known the extent of the forest, in which they were lost, the number of its wild four-footed inhabitants, and the difficulties and dangers that lay before them, it is certain that they could not have walked along as light-heartedly as they did, and it is probable that they would have been less able to meet those difficulties and dangers when they appeared.

Be this as it may, Will Osten and Larry O’Hale, Muggins, and Old Peter, continued to wander through the forest, after discovering that they were lost, until the increasing darkness rendered further progress impossible; then they stopped and sat down on the stump of a fallen tree.

“It is clear,” said our hero, “that we shall have to pass the night here, for there is no sign of human habitation, and the light is failing fast.”

“That’s so,” said Muggins curtly.

“I’m a’feard on it,” observed Old Peter with a sigh.

“Faix, I wouldn’t mind spindin’ the night,” said Larry, “av it worn’t that we’ve got no grub.  It would be some comfort to know the name o’ the country we’re lost in.”

“I can tell you that, Larry,” said Will Osten; “we are in Peru; though what part of it I confess I do not know.”

“Peroo, is it?  Well, that’s a comfort ­anyhow.”

“I don’t ‘xacly see where the comfort o’ that lies,” said Muggins.

“That’s cause yer intellects is obtoose, boy!” retorted Larry; “don’t ye know that it’s a blissin’ to know where ye are, wotiver else ye don’t know?  Supposin’, now, a stranger shud ax me, `Where are ye, Paddy?’ ­ov course I cud say at wance, `In Peroo, yer honour;’ an’ if he shud go for to penetrate deeper into my knowledge o’ geography, sure I cud tell him that Peroo is in South Ameriky, wan o’ the five quarters o’ the globe, d’ye see?”

“But suppose, for the sake of argyment as Shikspur says, that the stranger wos to ax ye wot ye know’d about Peroo, what ’ud ye say to that, lad?” asked Old Peter.

“Wot would I say!  Why, I’d ax him with a look of offended dignity if he took me for a schoolmaster, an’ then may be I’d ax him wot he know’d about it himself ­an’ krekt him av he wos wrong.”

“I can tell you this much about it, at all events,” said Will, with a laugh, “that it is a Republic, and a celebrated country for gold mines.”

“And I can add to yer information,” said Old Peter, “that there’s an oncommon lot o’ tigers an’ other wild beasts in it, and that if we would avoid bein’ eat up alive we must kindle a fire an’ go to sleep in a tree.  By good luck I’ve got my flint and steel with me.”

“By equal good luck I have two biscuits in my pocket,” said Will; “come, before we do anything else, let us inquire into our resources.”

Each man at once turned his pockets inside out with the following result: ­

Our hero, besides two large coarse sea-biscuits, produced one of those useful knives which contain innumerable blades, with pickers, tweezers, corkscrews, and other indescribable implements; also a note-book, a pencil, a small pocket-case of surgical instruments (without which he never moved during his wanderings), and a Testament ­the one that had been given to him on his last birthday by his mother.  Old Peter contributed to the general fund his flint, steel, and tinder ­most essential and fortunate contributions ­and a huge clasp-knife.  Indeed we may omit the mention of knives in this record, for each man possessed one as a matter of course.  It was by no means a matter of course, however, but a subject of intense gratification to at least three of the party, that Muggins had two pipes and an unusually large supply of tobacco.  Larry also had a short black pipe and a picker, besides a crooked sixpence, which he always kept about him “for luck,” a long piece of stout twine, and a lump of cheese.  The sum total was not great, but was extremely useful in the circumstances.

All this wealth having been collected together, it was agreed that the biscuits, cheese, tobacco, and pipes should be common property.  They were accordingly divided with the utmost care by Will, who, by the way, did not require a pipe as he was not a smoker.  We do not record this as an evidence of his superior purity!  By no means.  Will Osten, we regret to say, was not a man of strong principle.  All the principle he had, and the good feelings which actuated him, were the result of his mother’s teaching ­not of his own seeking.  He did not smoke because his mother had discouraged smoking, therefore ­not having acquired the habit ­he disliked it.  Thousands of men might (and would) have been free from this habit to-day had they been affectionately dissuaded from it in early youth.  So, too, in reference to his Testament ­Will always carried it about with him, not because he valued it much for its own sake, or read it often, but because it was the last gift he received from his mother.  It reminded him of her; besides, it was small and did not take up much room in his pocket.  Blessed influence of mothers!  If they only knew the greatness of their power, and were more impressed with the importance of using it for the glory of God, this would be a happier world!

The costume of these wanderers, like their small possessions, was varied.  All wore white duck trousers and blue Guernsey or cotton shirts with sou’-westers or straw hats, but the coats and cravats differed.  Larry wore a rough pilot-cloth coat, and, being eccentric on the point, a scarlet cotton neckerchief.  Old Peter wore a blue jacket with a black tie, loosely fastened, sailor fashion, round his exposed throat.  Muggins wore the dirty canvas jacket in which he had been engaged in scraping down the masts of the Rover when he left her.  Will Osten happened to have on a dark blue cloth shooting-coat and a white straw hat, which was fortunate, for, being in reality the leader of the party, it was well that his costume should accord with that responsible and dignified position.  They had no weapons of any kind, so their first care was to supply themselves with stout cudgels, which each cut in proportion to his notions of the uses and capacities of such implements ­that of Larry O’Hale being, of course, a genuine shillelah, while the weapon cut by Muggins was a close imitation of the club of Hercules, or of that used by the giant who was acquainted with the celebrated giant-killer named Jack!

“Now, boys, if we’re goin’ to ait and slaip, the sooner we set about it the better,” observed Larry, rising and commencing to collect sticks for a fire.  The others immediately followed his example, and in a few minutes a bright blaze illuminated the dark recesses of the tangled forest, while myriads of sparks rose into and hung upon the leafy canopy overhead.  There was something cheering as well as romantic in this.  It caused the wanderers to continue their work with redoubled vigour.  Soon a fire that would have roasted an ox whole roared and sent its forked tongues upwards.  In the warm blaze of it they sat down to their uncommonly meagre supper of half a biscuit and a small bit of cheese each ­which was washed down by a draught from a neighbouring stream.

They had finished this, and were in the act of lighting their pipes, when a roar echoed through the woods which caused them to pause in their operations and glance uneasily at each other.

“Sure, it’s a tiger!” exclaimed Larry.

“There’s no tigers in them parts,” said Muggins.

“I don’t know that, lad,” observed Old Peter.

“I’ve hear’d that there are jaguars an’ critters o’ that sort, which is as big and as bad as tigers, an’ goes by the name, but p’raps ­”

Old Peter’s observations were here cut short by the loud report of a gun close at hand.  As if by instinct every man leaped away from the light of the fire and sheltered himself behind a tree.  For some time they stood listening eagerly to every sound, but no foe appeared, nor was there a repetition of the shot.  The longer they listened the more inclined were they to believe that their senses had deceived them, and Larry O’Hale’s heart was beginning to make a troublesome attack on his ribs, as he thought of ghosts ­especially foreign ghosts ­when all eyes were attracted to a human form which appeared to flit to and fro among the tree stems in the distance, as if to avoid the strong light of the fire.

Knowing that one man with a gun could make certain of shooting the whole party if he chose, and that he would not be more likely to attempt violence if trust in his generosity were displayed, Will Osten, with characteristic impetuosity, suddenly walked into the full blaze of the firelight and made signals to the stranger to approach.  Larry and the others, although they disapproved of the rashness of their young leader, were not the men to let him face danger alone.  They at once joined him, and awaited the approach of the apparition.

It advanced slowly, taking advantage of every bush and tree, and keeping its piece always pointed towards the fire.  They observed that it was black and partially naked.

Suddenly Muggins exclaimed ­“I do b’lieve it’s ­” He paused.

“Sure, it’s the nigger ­och! av it isn’t Bunco!” cried Larry.

Bunco it was, sure enough, and the moment he perceived that he was recognised, he discarded all precaution, walked boldly into the encampment, and shook them all heartily by the hand.