Our Little Brazilian Cousin
"Can you show me the way to the camp?" she asked. "I am lost."
"What camp? Where did you come from?" asked the Indian. She was a little younger than Maria, and dressed in a quaint little peasant's costume of blue skirt and red blouse with a huge straw hat upon her black hair.
Quickly Maria told her story and the little girl said,
"I can take you back. You must have run very quickly to have come so far. We must start at once to reach the Mission before dark."
"Oh, thank you ever so much," said Maria. "I am so anxious to get back, for my father will be hunting for me."
"He might hunt all night and not find you, for the forest has many paths," said the little girl. She had a sad little face but it was very sweet when she smiled.
"What is your name?" asked Maria as the two girls trudged along through the forest, her companion still carrying the cockatoo.
"Guacha,18 because I have no mother," she answered. "That is my Indian name, but I am also called Teresa."
"My mother is dead, too," said Maria, and the two little girls looked into one another's eyes with sympathy.
"My father is dead, also," said Guacha. "We were of the Mission Indians, but all my own people died of the fever two years ago."
"But who do you live with?" asked Maria. "Have you no friends at all?"
"Oh, I live with some of the Indians who were my father's friends!" said Guacha, "and Chiquita here is my good friend," and she smiled at the bird, who chattered to her gaily and pecked gently at her cheek. "I wish you could go home with me!" cried Maria impulsively, and just then she heard a shout resounding through the forest,
"Maria! Maria!" sounded her father's voice, and the two little girls hurried along faster, Maria answering the call as loudly as she could.
In a few moments they came in sight of the camp, and Maria was caught to her father's breast and kissed and scolded all in the same breath, while the rest of the children gathered around, eager with questions, all but Guacha, who stood apart, wistful and silent. Maria did not forget her, however, for escaping from her father's arms, she took the little Indian girl by the hand and said,
"Scold me all you want to, Daddy, though I did not mean to run away, but be kind to Guacha, who brought me back and who has no father."
Then the little Indian was made welcome, thanked and made much of, and the Senhora said,
"You must stay all night with us, dear child, for it is too late for you to return home through the forest. Will they be worried about you?"
"Thank you, Senhora, I will stay," she said simply. "There is no one at all to worry about me."
CHAPTER XII
GUACHA
Chiquita and Guacha proved a pleasant addition to the happy circle of little folk, for, though shy at first, the little Indian soon thawed out in the genial atmosphere about her. Many quaint little stories she told of Indian ways and customs, legends of the times of the Inca conquests, and stories of the days when her forefathers had been Caciques of the tribe. She was a sweet-natured little soul, and the Senhora kept her with them until the last day of their stay.
The evening before they were to return to Sao Paulo, all sat around the camp-fire, laughing, talking, and telling stories, Guacha beside Maria, for the two little girls had grown nearly inseparable. The green and red cockatoo was perched upon Guacha's shoulder, half asleep, but when his little mistress laughed, he chuckled sleepily, that half amused, half contemptuous laugh which makes a parrot seem so human.
"To-morrow we start toward home," said Lola dreamily, as she sat resting her head against her mother's knee.
"Saudade,19 little daughter?" asked her father.
"Oh, no, papa, how could I be really homesick when I am having such a delightful time with my cousins," said Lola sweetly. "But I should like to see grandmamma in Para and my dear old nurse at the fazenda."
"I want to see Joachim and Vicente," said Affonzo.
"I want to see mamma," said Martim. Big boy that he was, he was not ashamed of being devoted to his mother.
Maria's eyes filled with tears, and she slipped one hand into her father's and he held it tight.
The Senhora hummed lightly under her breath the sweet Brazilian "Home Sweet Home,"20 then the young folk took up the strain and sang together:
"Mine is the country where the palm-trees rearTheir stately heads toward the azure sky,And where, in accents ever soft and clear,The sabiá sings her hymn of melody;Here, in my exile, say what warblers rareCan with the sabiá's notes their own compare?"Friendless, alone, at night, I dream of thee;My slumbering senses wrapped in peace and blissI see the palms; the sabiá's melodyFalls on my ears; once more I feel the kissOf lips I love; I wake, the vision's gone,The sabiá to his native woods has flown."Spare me, O God, until in peace I lieAsleep for ever in the land I love,Then may the sabiá carol joyfully,Perched in the palms, my resting-place above.So gathering in the first-fruits of my love,No longer homesick, every heart-ache past,Bearing the sheaves for which in grief I strove,A plenteous harvest may I reap at last."As they finished, Maria heard from the slight figure beside her a sigh that was almost a sob and she turned quickly to find Guacha's eyes filled with tears, fixed upon her.
"What is it?" she whispered. "Are you ill?"
"Oh no," said Guacha. "But you all love each other so dearly and I have no one to love, only Chiquita," as the cockatoo rubbed his fluffy head against her cheek.
"You have me," said Maria.
"But you are going away from me," she answered mournfully.
"No, my child." Maria's father laid his hand kindly upon the little Indian's dark head. "You may come with us if you will."
"Oh, papa!" cried Maria, her face alight with eager delight. "Will you really take Guacha back with us?"
"I thought that you might like to have her go back with us and play that she was your sister," he said pleasantly. "Your aunt says she will take care of you both during the rest of the year, and the old people who have cared for your little friend are ready to give her to us if she wants to come. How about it, Guacha? Will you go far off to Para and be Guacha's sister?"
She looked from him to Maria, from Maria to the Senhora, who smiled at her kindly.
"May I take Chiquita?" she asked. "He hasn't a friend in all the world but me."
"Of course you may take your birdie, you dear little girl," said the Senhora, "and we shall all hope to have you very happy with us."
Guacha gave a contented little sigh, and slipped her hand into Maria's.
"You are all so good," she said. "I could never be anything but happy with you."
"It will be ever so jolly," broke out Affonzo, the irrepressible.
"Yes," said Martim. "I'll have another girl cousin to tease, but she won't treat me as unkindly as you treat your Brazilian cousins, Maria."
"Well, maybe not," laughed Maria, "but you know Guacha is the only one of you all who is really and truly my Little Brazilian Cousin."
THE END1
A sharp blade like the Cuban machete.
2
Rubber gatherer.
3
This is the Indian legend of El Dorado, which is really El Hombre Dorado, or the gilded man, and it was this story which led so many of the early explorers to search for "El Dorado."
4
A Brazilian lizard.
5
A kind of palm.
6
My country has shadesWhere the Sabia singsThe birds of your gladesNo like melody bringsOur Heaven has more starsOur fields have more flowersOur woods have more lifeOur life has more love.7
Preserves.
8
Cocoa jelly.
9
Flag bearers.
10
Tapioca meal.
11
Governor's Island.
12
Independence or death.
13
The bell cow.
14
Drying fields.
15
Owner of the plantation.
16
Land breeze
17
Sea breeze.
18
A lamb without a mother.
19
Homesickness.
20
Written by Goncalves Dias, who perished by shipwreck in sight of his native shores.
