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Easy Guacamole
Cookbook
Learn the Different Ways to Make
Delicious Guacamole with these
Authentic Guacamole Recipes
(2nd Edition)

By
BookSumo Press
All rights reserved

Published by
http://www.booksumo.com
 ENJOY THE RECIPES?
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WITH 6 MORE FREE
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 LEGAL NOTES
All Rights Reserved. No Part Of This Book May Be Reproduced Or
Transmitted In Any Form Or By Any Means. Photocopying, Posting Online,
And / Or Digital Copying Is Strictly Prohibited Unless Written Permission
Is Granted By The Book’s Publishing Company. Limited Use Of The Book’s
Text Is Permitted For Use In Reviews Written For The Public.
Table of Contents 52 . . . . . Italian Style Guacamole
53 . . . . . Olive Lover's Guacamole
54 . . . . . I ♥ Guacamole
7 . . . . . . Guacamole Cultural
55 . . . . . Coarse Garlic Guacamole
8 . . . . . . Little Tomato Guacamole
58 . . . . . Midnight Guacamole
9 . . . . . . Simply Guacamole and Lime
59 . . . . . Blue Dressing Guacamole
12 . . . . . Maria's Guacamole
60 . . . . . Fajita Guacamole
13 . . . . . Guacamole from Spain
61 . . . . . Backroad Guacamole
16 . . . . . Frumpy Guacamole
64 . . . . . Guacamole with Corn
17 . . . . . Mexico City Guacamole
65 . . . . . Honolulu Guacamole
18 . . . . . Cookout Guacamole
66 . . . . . Sweet Smoked Guacamole
19 . . . . . Tis' the Season for Guacamole
67 . . . . . Sesame Thai Guacamole
22 . . . . . San Miguel Inspired Guacamole
68 . . . . . Mature Oniony Guacamole
23 . . . . . Peach and Grape Guacamole
69 . . . . . Tropical Mexican Guacamole
24 . . . . . Guacamole for August
72 . . . . . Guacamole Dream
25 . . . . . Tropical Guacamole
73 . . . . . New-Age Guacamole
28 . . . . . 2-Pepper Guacamole
74 . . . . . Shibuya Terminal Guacamole
29 . . . . . Kiwi Guacamole
75 . . . . . 4-Ingredient Guacamole
30 . . . . . Annabelle's Guacamole
31 . . . . . Mediterranean Guacamole
34 . . . . . Vegetarian Dream Guacamole
35 . . . . . Macho Mayo Guacamole
36 . . . . . Summer Soiree Guacamole
37 . . . . . Guacamole from Japan
40 . . . . . Cajun Guacamole
41 . . . . . Arizona Guacamole
42 . . . . . Alejandra's Tomato Guac
43 . . . . . Restaurant Style Guacamole
46 . . . . . 3-Ingredient Guacamole
47 . . . . . Bell Pepper Medley Guacamole
48 . . . . . From Guacamole with Love
49 . . . . . Simply Greek Style Guacamole
Guacamole Prep Time: 20 mins

Cultural Total Time: 30 mins

Servings per Recipe: 6

Calories 186 kcal
Fat 14.9 g
Carbohydrates 14.5g
Protein 3.3 g
Cholesterol 0 mg
Sodium 111 mg

Ingredients
2 fresh chili de arbol peppers, or to taste 2 pinches garlic powder, or to taste
3 avocados - peeled, pitted, and mashed salt to taste
(one pit reserved) 1 lime, juiced
2 tablespoons finely chopped onion
1/4 cup chopped roma tomatoes
1 (14.5 ounce) can whole peeled tomatoes
1 1/2 cups chopped fresh cilantro

Directions
1. Set your oven to 300 degrees before doing anything else.
2. Get a cookie sheet and place your peppers on it.
3. Put everything in the oven for 9 mins then take off the stems.
4. Get a bowl, combine evenly: roma tomatoes, onion, and avocados.
5. Place the following in a food processor: garlic powder, peeled tomatoes, oven cooked
peppers, salt, and cilantro.
6. Process the mix until it is combined completely. Add 1/2 of processed mix with the roma
tomato mix. Place the rest of the blended mix to the side for later use as a condiment or
dip.
7. Add the juice of 1 lime to the guacamole mix and combine everything completely until it
is smooth.
8. Add your guacamole to a dish for serving then place the pit of the avocado in the center
of the mix to prevent the dish from turning brown.
9. Enjoy.

Guacamole Cultural 7
LITTLE
Tomato
Prep Time: 20 mins
Total Time: 25 mins

Guacamole Servings per Recipe: 24

Calories 48 kcal
Fat 3.8 g
Carbohydrates 3.7g
Protein 0.7 g
Cholesterol 0 mg
Sodium 3 mg

Ingredients
6 fresh tomatillos, husks discarded and salt to taste
tomatillos rinsed 1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro
1 white onion, quartered 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice, or to taste
2 cloves garlic 3 ripe avocados, halved lengthwise and
2 jalapeno peppers, seeded if desired pitted
1 1/2 cups water, or amount to cover

Directions
1. Get a pot for boiling add in: jalapenos, tomatillos, garlic, and onion. Pour in some water to
get everything covered completely, then get the mix boiling. Once the mix ix boiling set
the heat to low, and let the mix cook until the tomatillos are no longer hard for about 7
mins.
2. Now fill your food processor half way with some of the veggies. Process the mix a few
times, then puree it completely for 2 mins, then add in your lime juice, cilantro, and salt.
Then continue to blend for 30 secs. Remove the avocado flesh from its skin and place the
flesh into the food processor. Puree the mix completely then taste it, add in some more
cilantro, lime, and salt, as you like then process everything one last time.
3. Enjoy.

8 Little Tomato Guacamole

Simply Prep Time: 10 mins

Guacamole and Total Time: 40 mins

Lime Servings per Recipe: 16

Calories 45 kcal
Fat 3.7 g
Carbohydrates 3.4g
Protein 0.7 g
Cholesterol 0 mg
Sodium 2 mg

Ingredients
2 avocados
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
1 ripe tomato, chopped
1 lime, juiced
salt and pepper to taste

Directions
1. Remove the skin from your avocados then place everything into a large dish. Mash the
avocados a bit then add in your pepper, onion, salt, garlic, lime juice, and tomato. Mash
the mix completely then add in some pepper, salt, and lime juice to your liking. Place
everything in the fridge for at least 2 hours then serve.
2. Enjoy.

Simply Guacamole and Lime 9

MARIA'S
Guacamole
Prep Time: 30 mins
Total Time: 1 hr

Servings per Recipe: 16

Calories 168 kcal
Fat 14.8 g
Carbohydrates 10.4g
Protein 2.3 g
Cholesterol 0 mg
Sodium 9 mg

Ingredients
8 ripe Hass avocados - pitted, peeled, 4 jalapeno peppers, seeded and minced
and diced 4 cloves garlic, finely minced
3 roma (plum) tomatoes, chopped 3 limes, juiced
1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro salt and ground black pepper to taste
4 green onions, chopped
1/2 tsp paprika

Directions
1. Place your avocados into a large serving dish then with a large spoon or fork process
them until this are smooth.
2. Once the avocados are smooth combine in your paprika, black pepper, tomatoes, salt,
cilantro, lime juice, green onions, garlic, and jalapenos.
3. Place of covering of foil or plastic over the dish and put everything into the fridge for
about 2 hours.
4. Enjoy.

12 Maria's Guacamole
Guacamole Prep Time: 30 mins

from Spain Total Time: 30 mins

Servings per Recipe: 2

Calories 187 kcal
Fat 14.9 g
Carbohydrates 14.7g
Protein 2.9 g
Cholesterol 0 mg
Sodium 554 mg

Ingredients
1 avocado - peeled, pitted, and diced 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
1 roma (plum) tomato, diced 3 drops hot sauce
1/2 red onion, diced 6 cilantro leaves, minced
1 serrano chili pepper, seeded and minced 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder

Directions
1. Get a large dish then place in the dish the following: cilantro, avocado, hot sauce,
tomato, Worcestershire, serrano, garlic, pepper, onion, and salt. Add in the lime juice and
completely mashing the mix then stir everything again.
2. Enjoy

NOTE: Place a covering of plastic on the bowl if you would like to save it for later use. If this
is the case then place the pit into the center of the mix and push the plastic wrap
tightly over the guacamole.

Guacamole from Spain 13

 Another Random Document on
Scribd Without Any Related Topics
 “What!” roared the big lout, whom he had slightly touched upon the
arm. “Who the devil are you? Keep your hands off of me, you fool!”
The person on whom Adam looked was Gallows, whose face,
florid almost to being purple, was so savagely contorted as to
comprise an insult in itself.
“My cross-eyed friend,” retorted Adam, whose temper had risen
without delay, “have done looking at yourself, if you would see no
fool. If you will tell me which hand I put on you, I’ll cut it off, else I
may live to see it rot!”
The company had turned about at once. Pinchbecker was there,
with his satellite, Psalms Higgler, the little white-eyed scamp that
Adam had once dropped from the near-by window. The foppish
young Englishman, who owned the horse outside, was likewise in
the party. They all saw the burly Gallows turn to them hopelessly,
befuddled by Adam’s answer.
“You be a fool!” he roared again, his eyes bulging out of their
sockets in his wrath, “and I be the fool-killer!”
The company guffawed at this, the monster’s solitary sally of wit.
“You are a liar by the fact that you live,” said Rust. “Bah, you
disgust me with the thought of having the duties, which you have so
patently and outrageously neglected, thrust upon me. Begone.
There’s no fire to roast a barbecue, if I should be minded to spit you!”
The creature looked again at his fellows, who had obviously egged
him on.
“He insults you right prettily, good Gallows,” said the dandy, who
was himself a rascal banished from his own country. “But he dare not
fight you, we can see it plainly.”
“With you thrown in, I dare say there might be a moment’s sport in
a most unsavory blood-letting,” said Rust, whose hand went to his
sword-hilt calmly. “I should want some fresh air if I stuck either one of
you carrion-fed buzzards.”
Gallows knew by this that it was time to draw his blade. “You be a
fool and I be the fool-killer,” he roared as before, this being his best
hold on language to suit the occasion. Only now he came for Adam
like a butcher.
“Outside—go outside, gentlemen!” cried the landlord excitedly.
“Go outside!” said the voice of some one who was not visible. It
was Randolph, concealed in the adjoining room and watching the
proceedings through a narrow crack, where he had opened the door.
“Go on out, and I’ll fight you!” bellowed Gallows.
“After you,” said Rust, whose blade was out and being swiftly
passed under his exacting eye. “Go out first. You will need one more
breath than I.”
The brute obeyed, as if he had to do so and knew it, receiving
Adam’s order like the clod he was.
The other creatures made such a scrambling to see the show, and
otherwise evinced such an abnormal interest in the coming fight, that
Adam had no trouble in divining that the whole affair had been
prearranged, and that if he did not get killed, he would be arrested,
should he slay his opponent. He concluded he was something of a
match for the whole outfit.
“Have at you, mountain of foul meat,” he said, as he tossed down
his hat. “What a mess you will make, done in slices!”
The young dandy laughed, despite himself, from his place by the
door.
Gallows needed no further exasperations. He came marching up
to Rust and made a hack at him, mighty enough and vicious enough
to break down the stoutest guard and cleave through a man’s whole
body as well.
Rust had expected no less than such a stroke. He spared his steel
the task of parrying the Gallows’ slash. Nimbly leaping aside, he
made a motion that had something debonair in its execution, and cut
a ghastly big flap, like a steak, from the monster’s cheek.
The fellow let out an awful bellow and ran at his opponent, striking
at him like a mad Hercules.
 “Spare yourself, fool-killer,” said Adam. He dared to bow, as he
dodged a mighty onslaught, in which Gallows used his sword like a
hatchet, and then he flicked the giant’s ear away, bodily, taking
something also of his jowl, for good measure.
The great hulk stamped about there like an ox, the blood
hastening down from his face and being flung in spatters about him.
Adam next cut him deeply in the muscle of his great left arm.
“I warm to my work,” he said, as he darted actively away and back.
“Gentlemen, is your choice for a wing or a leg of the ill-smelling
bird?”
The dandy, fresh from England, guffawed and cried “Bravo!” He
had been born a gentleman, in spite of himself.
The fight was a travesty on equality. The monster was absolutely
helpless. He was simply a vast machine for butchery, but he must
needs first catch his victim before he could perform his offices. He
was a terrible sight, with his great sword raised on high, or ripping
downward through the air, as he ran, half blinded by his own gore, to
catch the rover, who played with him, slicing him handily, determined
not to kill the beast and so to incur a penalty for murder.
The creatures inside the tavern, appalled by the exhibition they
had brought about, saw that their monster was soon to be a
staggering tower of blood and wounds.
“Don’t let him get away! Kill him! Kill him!” said the voice of
Randolph, from behind the others.
Adam heard him. He saw Pinchbecker shrink back at once.
Psalms Higgler, however, glad of an excuse and ready to take
advantage of a man already sufficiently beset, came scrambling out.
The foppish gentleman was too much of a sport to take a hand
against such a single swordsman as he found in Rust.
Aware that he was to have no chance, and convinced abruptly that
these wretches had plotted to kill him, Adam deftly avoided Gallows,
as the dreadful brute came again upon him, and slashing the fellow’s
leg behind the knee, ham-strung him instantly.
 Roaring like a wounded bull, the creature dropped down on his
side, and then got upon his hands and knees and commenced to
crawl, wiping out his eyes with his reddened hands.
Unable to restrain his rage, and fearing his intended victim would
yet avoid him, Higgler being already at bay and disarmed, Randolph
came abruptly out from the tavern himself, pistol in hand, to perform
the task which otherwise was doomed to failure.
“Call the guard!” he cried. “Call the guard!”
Adam had been waiting for some such treachery. He cut at the
pistol the second it rose, knocking it endways and slicing Randolph’s
arm, superficially, from near the wrist to the elbow. He waited then
for nothing more.
Across the road, before any one guessed his intention, he was up
on the back of the horse, before the yelled protest of the English
gentleman came to his ears.
“Gentlemen all,” he called to the group, “good evening.”
Clapping his heels to the ribs of the restive animal, he rode madly
away, just as Isaiah Pinchbecker, with half a dozen constables came
running frantically upon the scene.
 CHAPTER XXXI.

A REFUGEE.

Irresponsibly joyous, thus to be in a saddle, on a spirited horse,

Rust was soon dashing across the common and turning about like a
centaur, for ease and grace, glanced back to see who might be
joining in the race. His naked sword was still in his hand. It was red
from point to hilt. He wiped it on the horse, thereby causing the
animal to plunge and to run in a frenzy of nervousness.
Adam chortled. The affair from beginning to end, from his present
standpoint, appealed to his sense of humor. The consequences of
his adventure would be presented to his mind soon enough. He
merely knew now that he had won out of a tight corner, as a
gentleman should, that a glorious animal was bounding beneath him
and, that sweet night air came rushing upon him as if it opened its
arms to receive him.
Aware that he would soon be pursued, and mentally
acknowledging that the horse was not his own, he rode to a farm-
house about a mile or so out from the town, and there dismounted.
Reluctantly he said farewell to the charger, bidding the farmer have
the animal returned to Boston in the morning, with his thanks and
compliments. For the service he presented the wondering man with
a piece of silver, the last he had of the small amount left him after
paying the fares of the beef-eaters up to Massachusetts.
 Coolly inviting himself to have a bite of the farmer’s scanty supper,
he bade the man good night, about five minutes before the mounted
constables came riding hotly to the place. He even heard them,
when they left the farm and began to scour the woods to jump him
up. At this he smiled with rare good humor, confident of the powers
of superior wood-craft to baffle anybody or anything in all
Massachusetts, save alone an Indian.
Understanding all the delighted chucklings of the forest as he did,
he felt at once secure among the trees, as one of the family.
Moreover he loved to be wandering in the woods at night. He
continued to walk, on and on, beginning to wonder at last what he
really intended to do. Then, at the thought of Garde, who might be
expecting to see him, and whom he very much desired again to see,
he waxed somewhat impatient with this enforced flight from the town
where she was.
The more he thought upon it, then, the more impossible it seemed
for him to return. Against Randolph, enthroned in power, and against
all his wretched disciples, he could not expect to breathe a word
which would avail to get him justice. It would be sheer madness to
make the attempt. The creatures would charge him with all the
crimes on the calendar, and, swearing all to one statement, would
convict him of anything they chose. The whole affair had been
planned to beat him, or worse, and to a galling extent it had quite
succeeded. He was balked, completely and absolutely, in
whatsoever direction his meditations turned. To try to see Garde
would be fairly suicidal. Not to see her, especially after his promises,
would be, to a man so much in love as he, a living death.
And again, the beef-eaters. What was to become of his faithful
retinue? They would arrive there, only to find that he had again
deserted them, leaving them wholly at the mercy of Randolph and
his jackals. These demons would not be slow at recognizing who
and what Pike and Halberd were, from episodes of the past. The two
would go straight into the lion’s mouth, at the Crow and Arrow.
He thought at first of going to Plymouth. He could write to Garde
from there, he reflected, and also to Halberd and Pike. But he soon
concluded that this would be to walk merely into the other end of the
enemy’s trap, for no good or comforting purpose. New York
presented itself as a jurisdiction where Randolph’s arm would have
no power to do him harm. But New York was a long way off. If he
went there, not only would he miss seeing Garde, but he could not
warn his retinue in time to keep them out of Randolph’s clutches.
The business was maddening. He began to think, as a
consequence of dwelling on the hopelessness of his own situation,
that Randolph would be aiming next at Garde herself, in wreaking his
dastardly vengeance for his past defeats. This was intolerable. He
halted, there in the dark woods, swaying between the good sense of
hiding and the nonsense of going straight back to the town, to carry
Garde away from the harpies, bodily.
A picture of old David Donner, stricken, helpless, a child, arose in
his mind, to confront him and to mock his Quixotic scheme. He could
not carry both Garde and her grandfather away to New York, nor
even to the woods. He was penniless. This was not the only
obstacle, even supposing Donner would consent so to flee, which
was not at all likely.
It was also certain that Garde would not permit him to carry her off
and leave the old man behind. But at least, he finally thought, he
could go back to the town and be near, to protect her, if occasion
should require a sword and a ready wit. Could he but manage to do
this—to go there secretly and remain there unknown—he could
gather his beef-eaters about him and together they could and would
combat an army!
But how to go back and be undetected, that was the question. In
the first place he despised the idea of doing anything that did not
smack of absolute boldness and fearlessness. Yet Boston was a
seething whirlpool of Randolph’s power, at this time. Simply to be
caught like a rat and killed like a pest would add nothing of glory to
his name, nor could it materially add to Garde’s happiness and
safety.
Driven into a corner of his brain, as it were, by all these moves and
counter-moves on the chess-board of the situation, he presently
conceived a plan which made him hug himself in sheer delight.
He would simply disguise himself as an Indian and go to town to
make a treaty with Randolph, the Big-man-afraid-to-be-chief.
This so tickled his fancy that, had an Indian settlement been near
at hand, he would have been inside his buckskins and war-paint and
back to Boston ahead of the constables themselves. In such a guise,
he told himself, he could manage to see his sweetheart, he could get
his beef-eaters clear of danger, baffle his foes, and arrange to carry
both Garde and her grandfather away to safety.
But the first consideration was, where should he find an Indian?
He was aware that the Red men had been pushed backward and
westward miles from the towns of the whites. It was years since he
had roamed through the forests and mountains——years since he
had known where his old-time, red brothers built their lodges. There
could be but one means of finding a camp, namely: to walk onward,
to penetrate fairly to the edge of the wilderness beyond.
Nothing daunted by the thought of distance, he struck out for the
west. Like the Indians themselves, he could smell the points of the
sunrise and sunset, unerringly. With boyish joy in his thoughts, and
in the dreams he fashioned of the hair-breadth events that would
happen when he arrived in the town in his toggery, he plodded along
all night, happy once more and contented.
 CHAPTER XXXII.

A FOSTER PARENT.

Adam covered many a mile before the morning. Mindless of his

hunger, spurred by the thought that he must soon be back in Boston,
he felt that the further he went the more he must hasten. Thus he
marched straight on till noon.
He rested briefly at this time, filled his craving stomach with water,
and again made a start. In fifteen minutes he came upon a clearing,
at the edge of a little valley where up-jutting rocks were as plentiful
as houses in a city. Pausing for a moment, to ascertain the nature of
the place, and to prepare himself against possible surprise, he
presently approached a small log hut, of more than usually rude
construction.
There appeared to be no signs whatsoever of life about the place.
No smoke ascended from the chimney; there was no animal in sight,
not even so much as a dog.
Adam glanced hurriedly about the acre or so of land, beholding
evidences of recent work. A tree had been felled, not far away, within
the week. In a neat little patch of tilled soil, green corn stood two feet
high and growing promisingly.
Going to the cabin-door he knocked first and gave it a push
afterward, for it was not latched, although it was nearly closed. There
being no response from the inside, he entered. The light entered with
him. It revealed a strange and dreadful scene.
On the floor lay a man, dressed, half raised on his elbow, looking
up at the visitor with staring eyes, while he moved his lips without
making a sound. A few feet away sat a little brown baby-boy, clothed
only in a tiny shirt. He looked up at big Adam wistfully. Strewn about
were a few utensils for cooking, a bag which had once contained
flour, the dust of which was in patches everywhere, and an empty
water-bucket and dipper, with all the bedding and blankets from a
rude wooden bunk, built against the wall.
In amazement Adam stood looking at the man. In the haggard
face, with its unkempt beard and glassy eyes he fancied he saw
something familiar. Memory knocked to enter his brain. Then, with a
suddenness that gave him a shock, he recognized a man he had
known in England—an elder brother of Henry Wainsworth, supposed
to have died years before—drowned while attempting to escape from
an unjust sentence of imprisonment for treason.
“Wainsworth!” he said, “good faith! what is the meaning of this?”
The man sank back on the floor, a ghost of a smile passing across
his face. He moved his lips again, but Adam heard not a word.
Bending quickly down, he became aware that the man was
begging for water. He caught up the bucket and hastened forth,
presently finding the spring, to which a little path had been worn in
the grass.
Back at once, he placed the dipper to the dried-out lips and saw
this fellow-being drink with an evidence of joy such as can only come
to the dying. Wainsworth shivered a little, as the dipper left his teeth,
and jerked his hand toward the silent child, sitting so near, on the
floor. Adam comprehended. He gave more of the water to the small,
brown baby. It patted the dipper with its tiny hands and looked up at
him dumbly.
“What in the world has happened here?” said Rust.
Making a mighty effort, the man on the floor partially raised his
head and arms. He looked at Adam with a hungering light in his
eyes. “I’m—done—for,” he said, thickly and feebly.
Adam hustled together the blankets on the floor and made a
pillow, which he placed for Wainsworth to lie on. “Shall I put you into
the bed?” he asked.
The man shook his head. “I’m crushed,” he said, winking from his
eyes the already gathering film that tells of the coming end. “Tree—
fell—killed the—wife. I—crawled—here.”
Adam looked at him helplessly. He knew the man was dying. He
felt what agonies the man must have suffered. “Man!” he said, “can’t
I get you something to eat?”
Wainsworth waved his hand toward the wreckage strewed on the
floor. “Nothing—here,” he said. Then he made a great effort, the
obvious rally of his strength. “Save the—boy,” he implored. “Give him
a—chance.... Don’t—tell—about me. I married—his mother—
Narragansett—God bless—her.... Give—him—a—chance....
Thanks.”
As he mentioned the child’s mother, his eyes gave up two tears—
crystals, which might have represented his soul, for it had quietly
escaped from his broken body.
Adam, kneeling above him, looked for a moment at his still face,
on which the shadow of a smile rested. Then he looked at the little,
brown youngster, half Narragansett Indian, gazing up in his
countenance with a timid, questioning look, winking his big black
eyes slowly, and quite as deliberately moving his tiny toes.
It was not a situation to be thought out nor coped with easily. To
have found any human being in this terrible plight would have been
enough, but to have found Henry Wainsworth’s brother thus, and to
have him tell such a brief, shocking story, and make of his visitor all
the things which Adam would have to become at once, was enough
to make him stand there wondering and wondering upon it all.
“You poor little rascal,” he said to the child, at last.
He selected a shovel and a pick, from some tools which he noted,
in a corner, and laying aside his sword, he went to work, on the
preface to his duties, out by the patch of corn where he found the
pretty, young Indian mother, clasped and held down to earth in an all
too ardent embrace, by an arm of the fallen tree.
When he had padded up the mound over the two closed human
volumes, he was faint with hunger. He carried the tools again to the
house, and stood as before, looking at the baby-boy, who still sat
where he had left him, on the floor.
“Well, I suppose you are hungry, you little brown man,” he said. “I
must see what there is to be had.”
There was little opportunity for extended explorations. The one
room had contained the all of Wainsworth and his Narragansett
partner. Rust soon found himself wondering what the two had lived
upon. What flour and meal there had been, the man, despite his two
crushed legs, had pulled down, from a box-like cupboard, on the
wall, together with a bit of dried meat. Of the latter only a dry
fragment remained, still tied to a string, while of the meal and flour,
only the empty bags gave evidence that they once had existed.
There was no way possible for Adam to know that in the forest, not
far away, the lone woodsman had set his traps, for squirrels and
rabbits, nor that fifteen minutes’ walk from the door a trout stream
had furnished its quota to the daily fare. He only knew that there was
nothing edible to be found here now. There was salt, a bit of grease,
on a clean white chip of pine, and a half gourd, filled with broken-up
leaves, which had doubtless been steeped for some manner of tea
or drink.
“Partner,” he said, to the child, “someone has been enforcing
sumptuary laws upon us. I hesitate in deciding whether we shall take
our water salted or fresh.”
With his hand on the hilt of his sword he regarded the youngster
earnestly. Nothing prettier than the little naked fellow could have
been imagined, howbeit he was not so plump as a child of his age
should be, for the lack of nourishment had already told upon him
markedly. Adam felt convinced, from various indications, that the tree
which had done its deadly work had fallen about a week before, and
that Wainsworth had not been able to do anything more than to crawl
to the cabin, to die, neither for himself or the child.
For a time the rover wondered what he must do. His own plans
had nearly disappeared from his mind. He reflected that a child so
brown as this, so obviously half a little Narragansett, would be ill
received by the whites. The Indians would be far more likely to
cherish the small man, according to his worth. He therefore believed
the best thing he could do would be to push onward, in the hope of
finding an Indian settlement soon. There were several reasons, still
remaining unaltered, why it would be wiser not to take the child to
Boston.
“Well, our faces are dirty, partner,” he said, at the end of a long
cogitation, in which the baby had never ceased to look up in his
countenance and wink his big eyes, wistfully. “Let’s go out and have
a bath.”
He took the tiny chap up in his arms and carried him forth to the
spring. Here, in the warm sunlight, he got down on his knees in the
grass, bathed his protégé, over and over again, for the pleasure it
seemed to give the child and the joy it was to himself, to feel the little
wet, naked fellow in his hands.
The sun performed the offices of a towel. Without putting his tiny
shirt back upon him, Adam rolled the small bronze bit of humanity
about his back, patting his velvety arms and thighs and laughing like
the grown-up boy he was, till the little chap gurgled and crowed in
tremendous delight. But it having been only the freshness of the
water, air and sunlight which had somewhat invigorated the baby, he
presently appeared to grow a little dull and weary. Adam became
aware that it was time to be moving. He washed out the child’s wee
shirt and hung it through his belt to dry as they went. Then taking a
light blanket from the cabin, for the child’s use at night, he left the
cabin behind and proceeded onward as before.
He walked till late in the afternoon without discovering so much as
a sign of the Indian settlement he was seeking. By this time his own
pangs of hunger had become excruciating. It was still too early in the
summer for berries or nuts to be ripe, and the half green things
which he found where the sun shone the warmest were in no
manner fit to be offered to the child, as food.
Arriving at another small valley, as the sun was dipping into the
western tree-tops, the rover sat down for a rest, and to plan
something better than this random wandering toward the sunset. He
had chuckled encouragement to the child from time to time, laughing
in the little fellow’s face, but hardly had he caught at the subtle signs
on the small face, at which a mother-parent would have stared wild-
eyed in agony.
Now, however, as he sat the tiny man on the grass before him, he
saw in the baby’s eyes such a look as pierced him to the quick. For a
moment the infinite wistfulness, the dumb questioning, the
uncomplaining silence of it, made him think, or hope, the child was
only sad. He got down on all fours at once.
“Partner,” said he, jovially, “you are disappointed in me. I make
poor shift as a mother. Do you want to be cuddled, or would you
rather be tickled?”
He laid the little chap gently on his back and tried to repeat the
frolic of the earlier hours. He rolled the small bronze body in the
grass, as before, and petted him fondly. But the baby merely winked
his eyes. He seemed about to cry, but he made no sound. Adam’s
fingers ceased their play, for the joy departed from them swiftly.
“Maybe you’re tired and sleepy,” he crooned. “Shall I put on your
shirt and sing you a little Indian lullaby? Yes? That’s what he wants,
little tired scamp.”
He adjusted the abbreviated shirt, awkwardly, but tenderly, after
which he held his partner in his arms and hummed and sang the
words of a Wampanoag song, which he had heard in his boyhood,
times without number. The song started with addresses to some of
the elements, thus:
 “Little Brook, it is night,
Be quiet, and let my baby sleep.

“Little wind, it is night,

Go away, and let my baby sleep.

“Little storm, it is night,

Be still, and let my baby sleep.

“Little wolf, it is night,

Howl not, and let my baby sleep.”

and after many verses monotonously soothing, came an

incantation:

“Great Spirit, I place my babe

Upon the soft fur of thy breast,
Knowing Thou wilt protect,
As I cannot protect;
And therefore, oh Great Spirit,
Guard my child in slumber.”

Adam sang this song like a pleading. But his little partner could not
sleep, or feared to sleep. Then the rover looked at the tiny face and
realized that the child would soon be dying of starvation. At this he
started to his feet, abruptly.
He had undergone the pains of hunger often, himself; he was not
impatient now with the pangs in his stomach, nor the weakness in
his muscles. But he could not bear the thought of the child so
perishing, here in the wilderness.
He saw poor Wainsworth again, and heard him beg that the child
be given a chance. He thought of the man’s shattered life, his
escape from persecution, his isolation, in which he had preferred the
society of his Indian wife and child to association with his kind. Then
he blamed himself for coming further into this deserted region, when
he knew that by going back, at least he could find something for the
child to eat—something that would save its life!
But he could not forget that he himself was a refugee. Wrongly or
rightly, Randolph was still on his track. Nothing in his own case had
been altered, but the case was no longer one concerning himself
alone. He took the child on his arm, where he had carried him
already many miles, and faced about.
“Partner, let them take me,” he said. “I wish them joy of it.”
He started back for Boston, for in the child’s present extremity, the
nearest place where he could be sure of finding food was the only
one worthy a thought.
 CHAPTER XXXIII.

REPUDIATED SILVER.

Sometime, along toward the middle of the night, Adam tripped, on

a root which lay in his path, and in catching himself so that his small
partner should not be injured, he sprained his foot. He proceeded
onward without sparing the member, however, for he had begun to
feel a fever of impatience.
His foot swelled. It finally pained him excessively, so that he
limped. He wore away the night, but when the morning came, he
was obliged to snatch an hour of sleep, so great was the sense of
exhaustion come upon him.
His face had become pale. With his hair unkempt, his eyes
expressive of the fever in his veins and his mouth somewhat drawn,
he was not a little haggard, as he resumed his lame, onward march.
The child in his arms was no burden to his enduring strength, but as
a load on his heart the little chap was heavy indeed. Sleeping, the
miniature man appeared to be sinking in a final rest, so wan had his
tiny face become. Waking, he gazed at Adam with such a dumb
inquiry ever present in his great, wistful eyes, that Rust began to
wish he would complain—would cry, would make some little sound to
break his baby silence.
They were obliged to rest frequently, throughout the day. Try as he
might, Adam could not cover the ground rapidly. Whenever he
resumed walking, after sitting for a moment on a log, or a rock, he