In Search of an Unknown Race — page 181: what you’re looking at

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

VAN. ' 159g find another day dawning on the world—the beginning of the second one after the departure of the steamer. ‘‘The saints be praised—for this my son was dead and is alive ag’in,’”’ said a well-known voice. Raising himself upright in the hammock, Van saw before him Father Felix’s face, beaming with smiles, ‘‘And they have gone!” exclaimed Van, in a dull, despairing tone, as the priest called out something in Spanish to the fat, turbaned cook, who was waddling past. Very much puzzled to understand how Vari should know this, and why his hands kept roving restlessly about his waist, Father Felix nodded. Then, as the colored cook brought a bowl of chicken broth, which Van devoured with eager relish, the priest curiously asked how much he remembered of what had hap- pened, Well, it was a strange experience. Whether it was that the poison had not been made strong enough, or Van’s exuberant vitality had counteracted its fatal effects, is uncertain. But from the time he fell to the ground, Van was like one inatrance. His eyes were fixed, his tongue mute, nor could he move a muscle in any part of his body. Yet he could see and hear everything that Saati with almost abnormal distinctness. Thus he was enabled to describe the appearance of the Indian who had approached him as he lay on the green sward, and he was also conscious of being robbed of the money belt about his waist, but without the power of speech or motion. He knew when Ninada fainted and was carried GEomicbooks:c¢