58 
THE GOLDEN RIVER. 
was ready and we must come, but I felt there 
was just time for another success. ‘Ah,’ I 
said, ‘ now it is a bride I see, very young, very 
slim, all in white. 5 There was an immense 
sensation. Laughter from the older women, 
blushes and protestations from the girls. ‘ Who 
is the bridegroom ? Who is the bridegroom ? 5 
e I cannot see his face, but he too is young, and 
dark, and now the crystal has blurred again. 
I can see no more. 5 But the success of my 
crystal-gazing was instantaneous. The whole 
group followed us into the verandah, chattering 
and laughing. There was no doubt of the 
popularity of the entertainment. 
The air was a little cooler, but men were still 
busy fixing up an improvised awning of canvas 
over the open truck in which we were to travel. 
Chairs were handed up from the verandah for 
us to sit on; the old Indian woman climbed in 
with a basket on her arm and a large cigar in 
her mouth; the sallow girl sat on the floor, 
dangling her feet over the edge, and, after a 
moment’s hesitation, the young half-caste 
joined her. Half a dozen other people got in 
too, amongst them a sad faced Paraguayan 
with his wife, and two subdued little children. 
The amazing little engine, shaped as no engine 
ever was before, gave a wild shriek, and, with 
a lurch and stagger, the train moved off along 
the wobbly rails that headed for the monte. 
