Eight Hundred Leagues on the Amazon by Jules Verne

on running toward the monkey’s corpse.

But the young men, who were taking the same direction, had less

ground to cover, and coming forward a few paces, found themselves

face to face with Torres.

The latter had recovered his presence of mind.

“Many thanks, gentlemen,” said he gayly, as he raised the brim of his

hat; “in killing this wretched animal you have just done me a great

service!”

The hunters looked at him inquiringly, not knowing what value to

attach to his thanks.

Torres explained matters in a few words.

“You thought you had killed a monkey,” said he, “but as it happens

you have killed a thief!”

“If we have been of use to you,” said the youngest of the two, “it

was by accident, but we are none the less pleased to find that we

have done some good.”

And taking several steps to the rear, he bent over the guariba, and,

not without an effort, withdrew the case from his stiffened hand.

“Doubtless that, sir, is what belongs to you?”

“The very thing,” said Torres briskly, catching hold of the case and

failing to repress a huge sigh of relief.

“Whom ought I to thank, gentlemen,” said he, “for the service you

have rendered me?”

“My friend, Manoel, assistant surgeon, Brazilian army,” replied the

young man.

“If it was I who shot the monkey, Benito,” said Manoel, “it was you

that pointed him out to me.”

“In that case, sirs,” replied Torres, “I am under an obligation to

you both, as well to you, Mr. Manoel, as to you, Mr. —-”

“Benito Garral,” replied Manoel.

The captain of the woods required great command over himself to avoid

giving a jump when he heard this name, and more especially when the

young man obligingly continued:

“My father, Joam Garral, has his farm about three miles from here. If

you would like, Mr. —-”

“Torres,” replied the adventurer.

“If you would like to accompany us there, Mr. Torres, you will be

hospitably received.”

“I do not know that I can,” said Torres, who, surprised by this

unexpected meeting, hesitated to make a start. “I fear in truth that

I am not able to accept your offer. The occurrence I have just

related to you has caused me to lose time. It is necessary for me to

return at once to the Amazon–as I purpose descending thence to

Para.”

“Very well, Mr. Torres,” replied Benito, “it is not unlikely that we

shall see you again in our travels, for before a month has passed my

father and all his family will have taken the same road as you.”

“Ah!” said Torres sharply, “your father is thinking of recrossing the

Brazilian frontier?”

“Yes, for a voyage of some months,” replied Benito. “At least we hope

to make him decide so. Don’t we, Manoel?”

Manoel nodded affirmatively.

“Well, gentlemen,” replied Torres, “it is very probable that we shall

meet again on the road. But I cannot, much to my regret, accept your

offer now. I thank you, nevertheless, and I consider myself as twice

your debtor.”

And having said so, Torres saluted the young men, who in turn saluted

him, and set out on their way to the farm.

As for Torres he looked after them as they got further and further

away, and when he had lost sight of them–

“Ah! he is about to recross the frontier!” said he, with a deep

voice. “Let him recross it! and he will be still more at my mercy!

Pleasant journey to you, Joam Garral!”

And having uttered these words the captain of the woods, making for

the south so as to regain the left bank of the river by the shortest

road, disappeared into the dense forest.

CHAPTER III

THE GARRAL FAMILY

THE VILLAGE of Iquitos is situated on the left bank of the Amazon,

near the seventy-fourth meridian, on that portion of the great river

which still bears the name of the Mar&acitc;non, and of which the bed

separates Peru from the republic of Ecuador. It is about fifty-five

leagues to the west of the Brazilian frontier.

Iquitos, like every other collection of huts, hamlet, or village met

with in the basin of the Upper Amazon, was founded by the

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