"No loss for any of us," muttered Bat.
"You are right," replied Dick; "perhaps he is a native; let us hope he may be able to tell us our whereabouts, and save us the trouble of exploring."
With their rifles on their shoulders, they advanced steadily towards the new arrival. The stranger, on becoming aware of their approach, manifested great surprise; he was apparently puzzled as to how they had reached the shore, for the "Pilgrim" had been entirely broken up during the night, and the spars that were floating about had probably been too few and too scattered to attract his attention. His first attitude seemed to betray something of fear; and raising to his shoulder a gun that had been slung to his belt, he began to retrace his steps; but conciliatory gestures on the part of Dick quickly reassured him, and after a moment's hesitation, he continued to advance.
He was a man of about forty years of age, strongly built, with a keen, bright eye, grizzly hair and beard, and a complexion tanned as with constant exposure to the forest air. He wore a broad-brimmed hat, a kind of leather jerkin, or tunic and long boots reaching nearly to his knees. To his high heels was fastened a pair of wide-rowelled spurs, which clanked as he moved.
Dick Sands in an instant saw that he was not looking upon one of the roving Indians of the pampas, but upon one of those adventurers, often of very doubtful character, who are not unfrequently to be met with in the remotest quarters of the earth. Clearly this was neither an Indian nor a Spaniard. His erect, not to say rigid deportment, and the reddish hue with which his hair and beard were streaked, betokened him to be of Anglo-Saxon origin, a conjecture which was at once confirmed when upon Dick's wishing him "good morning," he replied in unmistakable English, with hardly a trace of foreign accent,—
"Good morning, my young friend."
He stepped forward, and having shaken hands with Dick, nodded to all his companions.
"Are you English?" he asked.
"No; we are Americans," replied Dick.
