The next day, April 7th, Austin, who was on guard at sunrise, saw Dingo run barking to the little river. Almost immediately Mrs. Weldon, Dick Sand and the blacks came out of the .  
Decidedly there was something there.
 
"Dingo has a living creature, man or beast," said the .
 
"At all events it was not Negoro," observed Tom, "for Dingo would bark with fury."
 
"If it is not Negoro, where can he be?" asked Mrs. Weldon, giving Dick Sand a look which was only understood by him; "and if it is not he, who, then, is it?"
 
"We are going to see, Mrs. Weldon," replied the novice. Then, addressing Bat, Austin, and Hercules, "Arm yourselves, my friends, and come!"
 
Each of the blacks took a gun and a cutlass, as Dick Sand had done. A was slipped into the breech of the Remingtons, and, thus armed, all four went to the bank of the river.
 
Mrs. Weldon, Tom, and Acteon remained at the entrance of the grotto, where little and Nan still rested by themselves.
 
The sun was then rising. His rays, by the high mountains in the east, did not reach the cliff directly; but as far as the western horizon, the sea sparkled under the first fires of day.
 
Dick Sand and his companions followed the of the shore, the curve of which joined the mouth of the river.
 
There Dingo, motionless, and as if on guard, was continually barking.
 
It was evident that he saw or scented some native.
 
And, in fact, it was no longer against Negoro, against its enemy on board the ship, that the dog had a this time.
 
At that moment a man turned the last plane of the cliff. He advanced to the strand, and, by his familiar gestures, he sought to calm Dingo. They saw that he did not care to face the anger of the vigorous animal.
 
"It is not Negoro!" said Hercules.
 
"We cannot lose by the change," replied Bat.
 
"No," said the novice. "It is probably some native, who will spare us the of a separation. We are at last going to know exactly where we are."
 
And all four, putting their guns back on their shoulders, went rapidly toward the unknown.
 
The latter, on seeing them approach, at first gave signs of the greatest surprise. Very certainly, he did not expect to meet strangers on that part of the coast. Evidently, also, he had not yet perceived the of the "Pilgrim," otherwise the presence of the shipwrecked would very naturally be explained to him. Besides, during the night the surf had finished the ship's ; there was nothing left but the that floated in the offing.
 
At the first moment the unknown, seeing four armed men marching toward him, made a movement as if he would his steps. He carried a gun in a shoulder-belt, which passed rapidly into his hand, and from his hand to his shoulder. They felt that he was not .
 
Dick Sand made a gesture of salutation, which doubtless the unknown understood, for, after some , he continued to advance.
 
Dick Sand could then examine him with attention.
 
He was a vigorous man, forty years old at the most, his eyes bright, his hair and beard gray, his skin sunburnt like that of a who has always lived in the open air, in the forest, or on the plain. A kind of blouse of tanned skin served him for a close coat, a large hat covered his head, leather boots came up above his knees, and spurs with large rowels sounded from their high heels.
 
What Dick Sand noticed at first—and which was so, in fact—was that he had before him, not one of those Indians, rovers over the pampas, but one of those adventurers of foreign blood, often not very , who are frequently met with in those distant countries.
 
It also seemed, by his rather familiar attitude, by the reddish color of a few hairs of his beard, that this unknown must be of Anglo-Saxon origin. At all events, he was neither an Indian nor a Spaniard.
 
And that appeared certain, when in answer to Dick Sand, who said to him in English, "Welcome!" he replied in the same language and without any accent.
 
"Welcome yourself, my young friend," said the unknown, advancing toward the novice, whose hand he pressed.
 
As to the blacks, he himself with making a gesture to them without speaking to them.
 
"You are English?" he asked the novice.
 
"Americans," replied Dick Sand.
 
"From the South?"
 
"From the North."
 
This reply seemed to please the unknown, who shook the novice's hand more vigorously and this time in very a American manner.
 
"And may I know, my young friend," he asked, "how you find yourself on this coast?"
 
But, at that moment, without waiting till the novice had replied to his question, the unknown took off his hat and bowed.
 
Mrs. Weldon had advanced as far as the steep bank, and she then found herself facing him.
 
It was she who replied to this question.
 
"Sir," said she, "we are shipwrecked ones whose ship was broken to pieces yesterday on these reefs."
 
An expression of pity spread over the unknown's face, whose eyes sought the which had been .
 
"There is nothing left of our ship," added the novice. "The surf has finished the work of demolishing it during the night."
 
"And our first question," continued Mrs. Weldon, "will be to ask you where we are."
 
"But you are on the sea-coast of South America," replied the unknown, who appeared surprised at the question. "Can you have any doubt about that?"
 
"Yes, sir, for the tempest had been able to make us from our route," replied Dick Sand. "But I shall ask where we are more exactly. On the coast of Peru, I think."
 
"No, my young friend, no! A little more to the south! You are on the Bolivian coast."
 
"Ah!" exclaimed Dick Sand.
 
"And you are even on that southern part of Bolivia which borders on
."
"Then what is that ?" asked Dick Sand, pointing to the on the north.
 
"I cannot tell you the name," replied the unknown, "for if I know the country in the interior pretty well from having often traversed it, it is my first visit to this shore."
 
Dick Sand reflected on what he had just learned. That only half astonished him, for his calculation might have, and indeed must have, deceived him, concerning the currents; but the error was not considerable. In fact, he believed himself somewhere between the twenty-seventh and the thirtieth parallel, from the bearings he had taken from the of Paques, and it was on the twenty-fifth parallel that he was wrecked. There was no impossibility in the "Pilgrim's" having by small digression, in such a long passage.
 
Besides, there was no reason to doubt the unknown's assertions, and, as that coast was that of lower Bolivia there was nothing astonishing in its being so .
 
"Sir," then said Dick Sand, "after your reply I must conclude that we are at a rather great distance from Lima."
 
"Oh! Lima is far away—over there—in the north!"

Mrs. Weldon, made suspicious first of all by Negoro's , observed the newly-arrived with extreme attention; but she could discover nothing, either in his attitude or in his manner of expressing himself which could lead her to suspect his good faith.
 
"Sir," said she, "without doubt my question is not rash. You do not seem to be of Peruvian origin?"
 
"I am American as you are, madam," said the unknown, who waited for an instant for the American lady to tell him her name.
 
"Mrs. Weldon," replied the latter.
 
"I? My name is Harris and I was born in South Carolina. But here it is twenty years since I left my country for the pampas of Bolivia, and it gives me pleasure to see compatriots."
 
"You live in this part of the province, Mr. Harris?" again asked Mrs.
Weldon.
"No, Mrs. Weldon," replied Harris, "I live in the South, on the Chilian frontier; but at this present moment I am going to Atacama, in the northeast."
 
"Are we then on the borders of the desert of that name?" asked Dick
Sand.
", my young friend, and this desert extends far beyond the mountains which shut off the horizon."
&............