The first few miles were trying, for the coast was swampy and
thickly grown up to underbrush; but in time the jungle gave place
to higher timber and to open savannas deep in guinea-grass. Soon
after noon the travelers came to a farm, the owner of which was
known to one of the guides, and here a stop was made in order to
secure horses and food.
It was a charming little rancho. The palm-thatched house was set
in a grove of mamey and mango trees, all heavily burdened with
fruit; there was a vianda-patch, and, wonder of wonders, there
were a half-dozen cows dozing in the shade. Spying these animals,
Norine promptly demanded a glass of milk, and O'Reilly translated
her request to the farmer.
The man was obliging until he learned that the American lady
purposed drinking the milk fresh and warm; then he refused
positively. Fresh milk was full of fever, he explained: it was
alive with germs. He would bring her, instead, some which had been
boiled and salted in the usual Cuban manner. This he did, but
after one bitter mouthful Norine insisted upon her original
request. With a dubious shake of his head and a further warning
the farmer directed his son to oblige the pretty lady by milking
one of the cows; he made it plain, however, that he disclaimed all
responsibility for the result.
Johnnie, who was badly fagged from the previous night's work,
found a shady spot and stretched himself out for a nap.
Pages:
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235