"Though I have never crossed this forest, I do not believe I shall be embarrassed in finding the way, being sufficiently accustomed to the pampas.

But there is a graver question--that of food.

I have only what is barely enough for myself while on the way to the Farm of San Felice." "Mr.Harris," replied Mrs.Weldon, "fortunately we have food in more than sufficient quantity, and we shall be happy to share with you." "Well, Mrs.Weldon, it seems to me that all is arranged for the best, and that we have only to set out." Harris went toward the steep bank, with the intention of going to take his horse from the place where he had left it, when Dick Sand stopped him again, by asking him a question.
To abandon the sea-coast, to force his way into the interior of the country, under that interminable forest, did not please the young novice.

The sailor reappeared in him, and either to ascend or descend the coast would be more to his mind.
"Mr.Harris," said he, "instead of traveling for one hundred and twenty miles in the Desert of Atacama, why not follow the coast?
Distance for distance, would it not be better worth while to seek to reach the nearest town, either north or south ?" "But my young friend," replied Harris, frowning slightly, "it seems to me that on this coast, which I know very imperfectly, there is no town nearer than three or four hundred miles." "To the north, yes," replied Dick Sand; "but to the south----" "To the south," replied the American, "we must descend as far as Chili.
Now, the distance is almost as long, and, in your place, I should not like to pass near the pampas of the Argentine Republic.

As to me, to my great regret, I could not accompany you there." "The ships which go from Chili to Peru, do they not pass, then, in sight of this coast ?" asked Mrs.Weldon.
"No," replied Harris.