Eight Hundred Leagues on the Amazon by Jules Verne

me. We shall start in a minute or two. It will not do to wait till

Torres has left Manaos. He has no longer got his silence to sell, and

the idea might occur to him. Let us be off!”

And so all three of them landed on the bank of the Rio Negro and

started for the town.

Manaos was not so considerable that it could not be searched in a few

hours. They had made up their minds to go from house to house, if

necessary, to look for Torres, but their better plan seemed to be to

apply in the first instance to the keepers of the taverns and lojas

where the adventurer was most likely to put up. There could hardly be

a doubt that the ex-captain of the woods would not have given his

name; he might have personal reasons for avoiding all communication

with the police. Nevertheless, unless he had left Manaos, it was

almost impossible for him to escape the young fellows’ search. In any

case, there would be no use in applying to the police, for it was

very probable–in fact, we know that it actually was so–that the

information given to them had been anonymous.

For an hour Benito, Manoel, and Fragoso walked along the principal

streets of the town, inquiring of the tradesmen in their shops, the

tavern-keepers in their cabarets, and even the bystanders, without

any one being able to recognize the individual whose description they

so accurately gave.

Had Torres left Manaos? Would they have to give up all hope of coming

across him?

In vain Manoel tried to calm Benito, whose head seemed on fire. Cost

what it might, he must get at Torres!

Chance at last favored them, and it was Fragoso who put them on the

right track.

In a tavern in Holy Ghost Street, from the description which the

people received of the adventurer, they replied that the individual

inquestion had put up at the loja the evening before.

“Did he sleep here?” asked Fragoso.

“Yes,” answered the tavern-keeper.

“Is he here now?”

“No. He has gone out.”

“But has he settled his bill, as a man would who has gone for good?”

“By no means; he left his room about an hour ago, and he will

doubtless come back to supper.”

“Do you know what road he took when he went out?”

“We saw him turning toward the Amazon, going through the lower town,

and you will probably meet him on that side.”

Fragoso did not want any more. A few seconds afterward he rejoined

the young fellows, and said:

“I am on the track.”

“He is there!” exclaimed Benito.

“No; he has just gone out, and they have seen him walking across to

the bank of the Amazon.”

“Come on!” replied Benito.

They had to go back toward the river, and the shortest way was for

them to take the left bank of the Rio Negro, down to its mouth.

Benito and his companions soon left the last houses of the town

behind, and followed the bank, making a slight detour so as not to be

observed from the jangada.

The plain was at this time deserted. Far away the view exstended

across the flat, where cultivated fields had replaced the former

forests.

Benito did not speak; he could not utter a word. Manoel and Fragoso

respected his silence. And so the three of them went along and looked

about on all sides as they traversed the space between the bank of

the Rio Negro and that of the Amazon. Three-quarters of an hour after

leaving Manaos, and still they had seen nothing!

Once or twice Indians working in the fields were met with. Manoel

questioned them, and one of them at length told him that a man, such

as he described, had just passed in the direction of the angle formed

by the two rivers at their confluence.

Without waiting for more, Benito, by an irresistible movement, strode

to the front, and his two companions had to hurry on to avoid being

left behind.

The left bank of the Amazon was then about a quarter of a mile off. A

sort of cliff appeared ahead, hiding a part of the horizon, and

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