dispatching it, which he did apparently without compunction,

notwithstanding that the poor brute had served him well in its
way. He cut up and smoke-dried the flesh, and the intolerable

pangs of hunger compelled me to share the loathsome food with
him. We were not only indecent, it seemed to me, but cannibals

to feed on the faithful servant that had been our butcher. "But
what does it matter?" I argued with myself. "All flesh, clean

and unclean, should be, and is, equally abhorrent to me, and
killing animals a kind of murder. But now I find myself

constrained to do this evil thing that good may come. Only to
live I take it now--this hateful strength-giver that will enable

me to reach Rima, and the purer, better life that is to be."
During all that time, when we toiled onwards league after league

in silence, or sat silent by the nightly fire, I thought of many
things; but the past, with which I had definitely broken, was

little in my mind. Rima was still the source and centre of all
my thoughts; from her they rose, and to her returned. Thinking,

hoping, dreaming, sustained me in those dark days and nights of
pain and privation. Imagination was the bread that gave me

strength, the wine that exhilarated. What sustained old Nuflo's
mind I know not. Probably it was like a chrysalis, dormant,

independent of sustenance; the bright-winged image to be called
at some future time to life by a great shouting of angelic hosts

and noises of musical instruments slept secure, coffined in that
dull, gross nature.

The old beloved wood once more! Never did his native village in
some mountain valley seem more beautiful to the Switzer,

returning, war-worn, from long voluntary exile, than did that
blue cloud on the horizon--the forest where Rima dwelt, my bride,

my beautiful--and towering over it the dark cone of Ytaioa, now
seem to my hungry eyes! How near at last--how near! And yet the

two or three intervening leagues to be traversed so slowly, step
by step--how vast the distance seemed! Even at far Riolama, when

I set out on my return, I scarcely seemed so far from my love.
This maddening impatience told on my strength, which was small,

and hindered me. I could not run nor even walk fast; old Nuflo,
slow, and sober, with no flame consuming his heart, was more than

my equal in the end, and to keep up with him was all I could do.
At the finish he became silent and cautious, first entering the

belt of trees leading away through the low range of hills at the
southern extremity of the wood. For a mile or upwards we trudged

on in the shade; then I began to recognize familiar ground, the
old trees under which I had walked or sat, and knew that a

hundred yards further on there would be a first glimpse of the
palm-leaf thatch. Then all weaknessforsook me; with a low cry

of passionatelonging and joy I rushed on ahead; but I strained
my eyes in vain for a sight of that sweet shelter; no patch of

pale yellow colour appeared amidst the universal verdure of
bushes, creepers, and trees--trees beyond trees, trees towering

above trees.
For some moments I could not realize it. No, I had surely made a

mistake, the house had not stood on that spot; it would appear in
sight a little further on. I took a few uncertain steps onwards,

and then again stood still, my brain reeling, my heart swelling
nigh to bursting with anguish. I was still standingmotionless,

with hand pressed to my breast, when Nuflo overtook me. "Where
is it--the house?" I stammered, pointing with my hand. All his

stolidity seemed gone now; he was trembling too, his lips
silently moving. At length he spoke: "They have come--the

children of hell have been here, and have destroyed everything!"
"Rima! What has become of Rima?" I cried; but without replying

he walked on, and I followed.
The house, we soon found, had been burnt down. Not a stick

remained. Where it had stood a heap of black ashes covered the
ground--nothing more. But on looking round we could discover no

sign of human beings having recently visited the spot. A rank
growth of grass and herbage now covered the once clear space

surrounding the site of the dwelling, and the ash-heap looked as
if it had been lying there for a month at least. As to what had

become of Rima the old man could say no word. He sat down on the
ground overwhelmed at the calamity: Runi's people had been there,

he could not doubt it, and they would come again, and he could
only look for death at their hands. The thought that Rima had

perished, that she was lost, was unendurable. It could not be!
No doubt the Indians tract come and destroyed the house during

our absence; but she had returned, and they had gone away again
to come no more. She would be somewhere in the forest, perhaps

not far off, patiently" target="_blank" title="ad.不耐烦地，急躁地">impatientlywaiting our return. The old man stared
at me while I spoke; he appeared to be in a kind of stupor, and

made no reply: and at last, leaving him still sitting on the
ground, I went into the wood to look for Rima.

As I walked there, occasionally stopping to peer into some
shadowy glade or opening, and to listen, I was tempted again and

again to call the name of her I sought aloud; and still the fear
that by so doing I might bring some hidden danger on myself,

perhaps on her, made me silent. A strange melancholy rested on
the forest, a quietude seldom broken by a distant bird's cry.

How, I asked myself, should I ever find her in that wide forest
while I moved about in that silent, cautious way? My only hope

was that she would find me. It occurred to me that the most
likely place to seek her would be some of the old haunts known to

us both, where we had talked together. I thought first of the
mora tree, where she had hidden herself from me, and thither I

directed my steps. About this tree, and within its shade, I
lingered for upwards of an hour; and, finally, casting my eyes up

into the great dim cloud of green and purple leaves, I softly
called: "Rima, Rima, if you have seen me, and have concealed

yourself from me in your hiding-place, in mercy answer me--in
mercy come down to me now!" But Rima answered not, nor threw

down any red glowing leaves to mock me: only the wind, high up,
whispered something low and sorrowful in the foliage; and

turning, I wandered away at random into the deeper shadows.
By and by I was startled by the long, piercing cry of a wildfowl,

sounding strangely loud in the silence; and no sooner was the air
still again than it struck me that no bird had uttered that cry.

The Indian is a good mimic of animal voices, but practice had
made me able to distinguish the true from the false bird-note.

For a minute or so I stood still, at a loss what to do, then
moved on again with greater caution, scarcely breathing,

straining my sight to pierce the shadowy depths. All at once I
gave a great start, for directly before me, on the projecting

root in the deeper shade of a tree, sat a dark, motionless human
form. I stood still, watching it for some time, not yet knowing

that it had seen me, when all doubts were put to flight by the
form rising and deliberately advancing--a naked Indian with a

zabatana in his hand. As he came up out of the deeper shade I
recognized Piake, the surly elder brother of my friend Kua-ko.

It was a great shock to meet him in the wood, but I had no time
to reflect just then. I only remembered that I had deeply

offended him and his people, that they probably looked on me as
an enemy, and would think little of taking my life. It was too

late to attempt to escape by flight; I was spent with my long
journey and the many privations I had suffered, while he stood

there in his full strength with a deadlyweapon in his hand.
Nothing was left but to put a bold face on, greet him in a

friendly way, and invent some plausible story to account for my
action in secretly leaving the village.

He was now standing still, silentlyregarding me, and glancing
round I saw that he was not alone: at a distance of about forty

yards on my right hand two other dusky forms appeared watching me
from the deep shade.

"Piake!" I cried, advancing three or four steps.