In Search of an Unknown Race — page 174: what you’re looking at

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

162 VAN. purposely into the blanched face of Flores, who stood a little way off. ‘‘I ¢’zk he’s dead,” he muttered, and without continuing he turned away. But Ninada had only heard his first utterance. ‘“‘ Dead /” she repeated wildly, as Manola, with a faint cry, approached her young mistress. And as Father Felix, puffing and blowing with his unwonted exertion, came hurrying up, the girl looked up in his face with beseeching eyes. ‘‘Father Felix,” she said almost inaudibly, ‘‘it is not true.” The good priest took Van’s pulse between his fingers for a moment, then he reverently laid the limp arm by the side of the body. ‘‘Alas, my daughter,” he chokingly replied, ‘‘ the poor boy is gone! ” With features on which stony despair was written, Ninada bent down and touched her white lips to Van’s forehead. And then Manola extended her arms just in time to prevent the fainting girl from falling across her cousin’s prostrate form. Three hoarse blasts from the whistle of the little steamer warned the others that Captain McGrath was growing impatient. The Scotchman was anxious to get to Para to take advantage of the market before the slower-moving trading boats. Like time and tide, he would wait for no man—or woman, as he grimly re- marked to his Portuguese pilot, who stood beside him in the wheel-house. ‘Tom,’ said Father Felix, in a hurried undertone, ‘‘there’s only you now for the young leddy to look to as a protector till she gits among herown friends. The (COMIC OO KS (E{o)