In Search of an Unknown Race — page 164: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

152 VAM, after the travelers’ arrival, a small iron steamer from Bara, a hundred miles further up river, touched at Atlaxa to complete her loading. Van had no difficulty in arranging with her captain, a shrewd, sharp visaged Scotchman, for a passage for his party to Para. The steamer was to leave for that port the following day. He was about returning to Father Felix’s to announce the news, when a canoe, paddled by one man, shot alongside the rude pier. In the haggard, travel-worn occupant, whose clothing hung in rags about his ema- ciated figure, Van recognized, with an astonishment too great for utterance, Quipo the runner, his former guide to the city of Itambez! Before Van could accost him, the man glanced quickly in his face, and then, sinking on his knees, touched his forehead to the earth. Van, recognizing the sign, knew that something terrible had happened. ‘‘ Speak, Quipo—what is it?” he hoarsely exclaimed, with a sudden presentiment of what was coming. ‘“The saying of the wise men has come true. Es- comada has vomited forth flame and smoke and rivers of fire, till the great city is no more, and the province itself is laid waste,” replied Quipo, with a certain sol- emn pathos which was more forcible than any wild demonstration of grief. ‘‘My uncle,” gasped Van, ‘‘did he escape? ” Quipo sorrowfully shook his head. ‘“Thousands have perished, and among them was Xalaqua our governor and the good chief magistrate,” was the sad reply. Further questioning drew from Quipo the following — COMME NOOO <S3(E0)