from the cellars of the inn. In fact, it was an event for the town of
Tabatinga, this visit of the celebrated Fragoso, barber in ordinary
and extraordinary to the tribes of the Upper Amazon!
CHAPTER XIII
TORRES
AT FIVE O’CLOCK in the evening Fragoso was still there, and was
asking himself if he would have to pass the night on the spot to
satisfy the expectant crowd, when a stranger arrived in the square,
and seeing all t his native gathering, advanced toward the inn.
For some minutes the stranger eyed Fragoso attentively with some
circumspection. The examination was obviously satisfactory, for he
entered the loja.
He was a man about thirty-five years of age. He was dressed in a
somewhat elegant traveling costume, which added much to his personal
appearance. But his strong black beard, which the scissors had not
touched for some time, and his hair, a trifle long, imperiously
required the good offices of a barber.
“Good-day, friend, good-day!” said he, lightly striking Fragoso on
the shoulder.
Fragoso turned round when he heard the words pronounced in pure
Brazilian, and not in the mixed idiom of the natives.
“A compatriot?” he asked, without stopping the twisting of the
refractory mouth of a Mayouma head.
“Yes,” answered the stranger. “A compatriot who has need of your
services.”
“To be sure! In a minute,” said Fragoso. “Wait till I have finished
with this lady!”
And this was done in a couple of strokes with the curling-tongs.
Although he was the last comer, and had no right to the vacant place,
he sat down on the stool without causing any expostulation on the
part of the natives who lost a turn.
Fragoso put down the irons for the scissors, and, after the manner of
his brethren, said:
“What can I do for you, sir?”
“Cut my beard and my hair,” answered the stranger.
“All right!” said Fragoso, inserting his comb into the mass of hair.
And then the scissors to do their work.
“And you come from far?” asked Fragoso, who could not work without a
good deal to say.
“I have come from the neighborhood of Iquitos.”
“So have I!” exclaimed Fragoso. “I have come down the Amazon from
Iquitos to Tabatinga. May I ask your name?”
“No objection at all,” replied the stranger. “My name is Torres.”
When the hair was cut in the latest style Fragoso began to thin his
beard, but at this moment, as he was looking straight into his face,
he stopped, then began again, and then:
“Eh! Mr. Torres,” said he; “I seem to know you. We must have seen
each other somewhere?”
“I do not think so,” quickly answered Torres.
“I am always wrong!” replied Fragoso, and he hurried on to finish his
task.
A moment after Torres continued the conversation which this question
of Fragoso had interrupted, with:
“How did you come from Iquitos?”
“From Iquitos to Tabatinga?”
“Yes.”
“On board a raft, on which I was given a passage by a worther
fazender who is going down the Amazon with his family.”
“A friend indeed!” replied Torres. “That is a chance, and if your
fazender would take me—-”
“Do you intend, then, to go down the river?”
“Precisely.”
“Into Para?”
“No, only to Manaos, where I have business.”
“Well, my host is very kind, and I think he would cheerfully oblige
you.”
“Do you think so?”
“I might almost say I am sure.”
“And what is the name of this fazender?” asked Torres carelessly.”
“Joam Garral,” answered Fragoso.
And at the same time he muttered to himself:
“I certainly have seen this fellow somewhere!”
Torres was not the man to allow a conversation to drop which was
likely to interest him, and for very good reasons.
“And so you think Joam Garral would give me a passage?”
“I do not doubt it,” replied Fragoso. “What he would do for a poor
chap like me he would not refuse to do for a compatriot like you.”
“Is he alone on board the jangada?”
“No,” replied Fragoso. “I wa going to tell you that he is traveling
with all his family–and jolly people they are, I assure you. He is
accompanied by a crew of Indians and negroes, who form part of the