A DECISION
After a long, solemn conference in the Pemberton hut next morning, it
was decided that Goncalves had been effectually squelched by the ruse
which Hal had so cleverly executed. None of them anticipated a return
visit from the Brazilian with such a purpose in mind. Old Marcellus felt
confident that they were safe from like marauders.
“But it’s time we heard from Rene,” said the old man. “Besides, somebody
ought to put word in General Ceara’s ear about Señor Goncalves.”
“How about me going?” Hal asked more in fun than anything. “I’m sure
Ceara would receive me as a representative of the Pemberton family,
wouldn’t he?”
“I don’t know why he wouldn’t,” Felice said, pursing her full red lips
thoughtfully. “Grandfather couldn’t stand the journey, even if it is
only a five-hour paddle, and Joaquim couldn’t satisfactorily interpret a
message. I’m out of the question in a revolutionary camp, so you are the
only solution. Joaquim can go with you, Mr. Hal. If you start now you’ll
be back tonight before midnight.”
“Suits me,” Hal said gaily. “I’ll be tickled pink to pike a
revolutionary camp. Only you’re sure they won’t nab me in, huh?”
“General Ceara’s a very just man, Hal,” Old Marcellus assured him. “I
shall give you a letter of introduction to him, telling him that I can
vouch for your secrecy.”
“How about Goncalves—he might be so sore at me that he’ll try and whoop
up things a bit, huh?”
“General Ceara’s long been provoked with him, Hal,” said Felice,
unconsciously using the young man’s Christian name too. “He’ll give your
complaints just consideration.”
“As you say, _Felice_,” Hal countered, smiling. “I’m to tell him then
what greedy eyes the Brazil-nut has cast on your gold hills, huh? And it
goes without saying, that I’ll tell him word for word about last night.”
“Of course—don’t forget that important part. General Ceara is too much
of a patriot not to see that Goncalves is not a man for the _Cause_.”
“I agree with you, Felice,” Hal said whimsically. “He’d be the cause of
any _Cause_ busting up.”
They talked over the question of food to be taken on the trip, and while
Old Marcellus was writing his letters, they summoned Joaquim and made
known to him what was required. Then just before noon Felice came down
to the river and helped push them off.
“Don’t get nervous, Hal,” she called.
“Your letter to Ceara will explain everything.”
“Even that it’s not my fault that my uncle’s a secret service man,
hunting for your brother?” Hal laughed.
“Of course,” she said, giggling merrily. “Your uncle’s not going to hunt
for Rene after you get back to _Manaos_, is he?”
“Not if I can see Rene first and Unk next. Those two will compromise and
I don’t mean maybe.”
“Indeed they will.” She waved a dainty handkerchief toward the departing
canoe and smiled sweetly. “Be sure that Rene gets the other letter, Hal!
I do hope he’s there all right. He’s got to know we’ve struck gold at
last. And because of you.”
“Don’t thank me, Lady Felice. It was a mere accident. Really, Goncalves
ought to get the credit for that.”
She shook her head, trying to look severe at Hal’s raillery, but in the
end she smiled and called a warning to the Indian to be careful of the
river. Then when the canoe glided swiftly out of sight of the
settlement, she called, “Adios, Hal! I’ll see you tonight.”
“Adios, yourself, Felice!” Hal called back. “And as for tonight, that
remains to be seen.”
The girl laughed in answer, and Hal listened to its sad, sweet echo
until the noise of the rapids deafened him.