On and on hurried Benee now, at his old swinging trot.
On and on beneath the splendid stars, his only companions, that looked
so calmly sweet and appeared so near. God's angels surely they,
speaking, as they gazed down, words from their home on high, peace and
good-will to men, and happiness to all that lived and breathed.
On and on over plains, through moor and marsh, by lake and stream, by
forest dark and jungle wild. It was evident that Benee meant to put
leagues between himself and the camp of his recent enemies before each
star grew beautiful and died; before the fiery sun leapt red above the
eastern hills, and turned the darkness into day.
Benee had come onwards with such a rush that even the slimy alligators,
by pond or brown lake, left their lairs among the tall nodding reeds and
dashed in terror into the water.
Prowling wild beasts, the jaguar and puma, also hurried off at his
approach, and many a scared bird flew screaming up into the darkling
air.
But Benee heeded nothing. His way lay yonder. That bright particular
star away down on the southwestern horizon shone over the great
unexplored region of Bolivia.
Morning after morning it would be higher and higher above him, and when
it shone at an angle of forty-five degrees he would be approaching the
land of the cannibals.
Yes, but it was still a far cry to that country. By the time the sun
did rise, and the mists gathered themselves off the valleys and glens
that lay low beneath him, Benee felt sadly in want of rest.
He found a tree that would make him a good sleeping place, for the
country he was now traversing abounded in hideous snakes and gigantic
lizards, and he courted not the companionship of either.
The tree was an Abies of some undefined species.
Up and up crawled Benee, somewhat encumbered by his arms.
He got through a kind of "lubbers' hole" at last, though with much
difficulty, and, safe enough here, he curled up with his face to the
stem, and was soon so fast asleep that cannons could not have awakened
him.
But satisfied Nature got uneasy at last, and far on towards evening he
opened his eyes and wondered where he was.
Still only half-awake, he staggered to his feet and made a step forward.
It was only to fall over the end of a huge matted branch, but this
branch lowered him gently on to the one immediately beneath it, and this
down to the next, and so on. A strange mode of progression certainly,
but Benee found himself sitting on the ground at last, as safe and sound
as if he had come down in a parachute.
Then his recollection came back to him. He sought out some fruit-trees
now and made a hearty meal, quenched his thirst at a spring, and once
more resumed his journey.
For three days he marched onwards, but always by night. The country was
not safe by day, and he preferred the companionship of wild beasts to
that of wilder men. In this Benee was wise.
But awaking somewhat earlier one afternoon, he saw far beneath him, a
town, and in Benee's eyes it was a very large one.
And now a happy idea struck him. He had money, and here was
civilization. By and by he would be in the wilds once more, and among
savages who knew nothing of cash. Why should he not descend, mix with
the giddy throng, and make purchases of red cloth, of curios, and of
beads. He determined to do so.
But it would not do to go armed. So he hid his rifle and pistols in the
bush, covering them carefully up with dried grass. Then he commenced
the descent. Yes, the little town, the greater part of which was built
of mud hovels, was full, and the streets crowded, many in the throng
being Spaniards, Peruvians, and Portuguese.
Benee sauntered carelessly on and presently came to the bazaar.
Many of the police eyed him curiously, and one or two followed him.
But he had no intention of being baulked in his purpose.
So he entered a likely shop, and quickly made his purchases.
Wrapping these carefully up, he slung the bundle over his shoulder and
left.
He stumbled over a lanky Portuguese policeman a few yards off.
The man would have fallen had not Benee seized him in his iron grasp and
brought him again to his equilibrium.
Then he spoke a few words in Bolivian, and made signs that he wished to
eat and drink.
"Aguardiente!" said the officer, his eyes sparkling with joy.
He had really harboured some intentions of throwing Benee into the
tumble-down old prison, but a drink would be a far better solution of
the difficulty, and he cheerfully led the way to a sort of hotel.
And in twenty minutes' time this truly intelligent member of the force
and Benee were lying on skin mats with apparently all the good things in
this life spread out before them.
The officer was curious, as all such men are, whether heathens or not,
to know all about Benee, and put to him a score of questions at least,
part of which Benee replied to with a delicate and forgivable fib.
So the policeman was but little wiser at the end of the conversation
than he was at the beginning.
About half an hour before sunset, Benee was once more far up on the
moorlands, and making straight for the place where he had hidden his
guns and ammunition.
But he stopped short and stared with astonishment when, before rounding
the corner of the wood, a pistol shot rang out in the quiet air,
followed by the most terrible shrieking and howling he had ever listened
to.
He hurried on quickly enough now, and as he did so, a whole herd of huge
monkeys, apparently scared out of their senses, rushed madly past him.
Close to the jungle he found one of his revolvers. One chamber had been
emptied, and not far off lay a baboon in the agonies of death. Benee,
who, savage though he was, evidently felt for the creature, mercifully
expended another shot on it, and placed it beyond the reach of woe.
He was glad to find his rifle and other revolver intact, but the
cartridges from his belt were scattered about in all directions, and
strenuous efforts had evidently been made to tear open his leathern
ammunition-box.
It took some time to make everything straight again.
Now down went the sun, and very soon, after a short twilight, out came
the stars once more.
Benee now resumed his journey as straight as he could across the
plateau.
He had not travelled many hours, however, before clouds began to bank up
and obscure the sky, and it became very dark.
A storm was brewing, and, ushered in by low muttering thunder in the far
distance, it soon came on in earnest.
As the big drops of rain began to fall, shining in the flashes of the
lightning like a shower of molten gold, Benee sought the shelter of a
rocky cave which was near to him.
He laid him down on the rough dry grass to wait until the storm should
clear away.
He felt drowsy, however. Perhaps the unusually good fare he had
partaken of in the village had something to do with this; but of late
his hardships had been very great indeed, so it is no wonder that now
exhausted Nature claimed repose.
The last thing he was conscious of was a long, low, mournful cry that
seemed to come from the far interior of the cave.
It was broad daylight when he again awoke, and such an awakening!
Great snowy-breasted owls sat blinking at the light, but all the rocks
around, or the shelves thereof, were alive with coiling, wriggling
snakes of huge size.
One had twined round his leg, and he knew that if he but moved a muscle,
it would send its terrible fangs deep into his flesh, and his journey
would be at an end.
Gradually, however, the awful creature unwound itself and wriggled away.
The sight of this snake-haunted cave was too much for even Benee's
nerves, and he sprang up and speedily dashed, all intact, into the open
air.
----
Notwithstanding his extraordinary adventure in the cave of serpents, the
wandering Indian felt in fine form that day.
The air was now much cooler after the storm, all the more so, no doubt,
that Benee was now travelling on a high table-land which stretched
southwards and west in one long, dreary expanse till bounded on the
horizon by ridges of lofty serrated mountains, in the hollow of which,
high in air, patches of snow rested, and probably had so rested for
millions of years.
The sky was very bright. The trees at this elevation, as well as the
fruit, the flowers, and stunted shrubs, were just such as one finds at
the Cape of Good Hope and other semi-tropical regions. The ground on
which he walked or trotted along was a mass of beauty and perfume, rich
pink or crimson heaths, heather and geraniums everywhere, with patches
of pine-wood having little or no undergrowth. Many rare and beautiful
birds lilted and sang their songs of love on every side, strange larks
were high in air, some lighting every now and then on the ground, the
music of their voices drawn out as they glided downwards into one long
and beautiful cadence.
There seemed to be a sadness in these last notes, as if the birds would
fain have warbled for ever and for aye at heaven's high gate, though
duty drew them back to this dull earth of ours.
But dangers to these feathered wildlings hovered even in the sunlit sky,
and sometimes turned the songs of those speckled-breasted laverocks into
wails of despair.
Behold yonder hawk silently darting from the pine-wood! High, high he
darts into the air; he has positioned his quarry, and downwards now he
swoops like Indian arrow from a bow, and the lark's bright and happy
song is hushed for ever. His beautiful mate sitting on her cosy nest
with its five brown eggs looks up astonished and frightened. Down fall
a few drops of red blood, as if the sky had wept them. Down flutter a
few feathers, and her dream of happiness is a thing of the past.
And that poor widowed lark will forsake her eggs now, and wander through
the heath and the scrub till she dies.
----
Benee had no adventures to-day, but, seeing far off a band of
travellers, he hid himself in the afternoon. For our Indian wanted no
company.
He watched them as they came rapidly on towards his hiding-place, but
they struck off to the east long before reaching it, and made for the
plains and village far below.
Then Benee had his dinner and slept soundly enough till moonrise, for
bracing and clear was heaven's ozonic breath in these almost Alpine
regions.
Only a scimitar of a moon. Not more than three days old was it, yet
somehow it gave hope and heart to the lonely traveller. He remembered
when a boy he had been taught to look upon the moon as a good angel, but
Christianity had banished superstition, and he was indeed a new man.
After once more refreshing himself, he started on his night march,
hoping to put forty miles behind him ere the sun rose.
Low lay the white haze over the woods a sheer seven thousand feet
beneath him.
It looked like snow-drifts on the darkling green.
Yet here and there, near to places where the river glistened in the
young moon's rays were bunches of lights, and Benee knew he was not far
from towns and civilization. Much too near to be agreeable.
He knew, however, that a few days more of his long weary march would
bring him far away from these to regions unknown to the pale-face, to a
land on which Christian feet had never trodden, a loveless land, a
country that reeked with murder, a country that seemed unblessed by
heaven, where all was moral darkness, as if indeed it were ruled by
demons and fiends, who rejoiced only in the spilling of blood.
But, nevertheless, it was Benee's own land, and he could smile while he
gazed upwards at the now descending moon.
Benee never felt stronger or happier than he did this evening, and he
sang a strange wild song to himself, as he journeyed onwards, a kind of
chant to which he kept step.
A huge snake, black as a winter's night, uncoiled itself, hissed, and
darted into the heath to hide. Benee heeded it not. A wild beast of
some sort sprang past him with furious growl. Benee never even raised
his rifle. And when he came to the banks of a reed-girt lake, and saw
his chance of shooting a huge cayman, he cared not to draw a bead
thereon. He just went on with his chant and on with his walk. Benee was
truly happy and hopeful for once in his life.
And amid such scenery, beneath such a galaxy of resplendent stars, who
could have been aught else?
"How beautiful is night!
A dewy freshness fills the silent air;
No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain,
Breaks the serene of heaven.
In glory yonder moon divine
Rolls through the dark-blue depths,
Beneath her steely ray
The desert circle spreads,
Like the round ocean girdled with the sky.
How beautiful the night!"
But almost before he could have believed it possible, so quickly do
health and happiness cause time to fly, a long line of crimson cloud,
high in the east, betokened the return of another day.
The night-owls and the great flitting vampire bats saw it and retreated
to darksome caves. There was heard no longer far over the plain the
melancholy howl of the tiger-cat or snarl of puma or jaguar.
Day was coming!
Day was come!