To which the negro replied, with a responsive sigh, "Yis, massa,--it
am."
After two days' delay our travellers were enabled to proceed. While
their host was busy saddling the mules Lawrence took Pedro aside.
"I am anxious about that bandit," he said. "It is not his power of
recovering I am afraid of, but our host's willingness to take care of
him."
"Have you not spoken to him about it, senhor, and paid him in advance,
like the good Samaritan?"
"Truly I have, but that does not secure fidelity in our host, and the
man's life may depend on his treatment during the next few days. I
almost wish that we might delay our journey a little."
"That cannot be," returned Pedro, with decision. "Besides, it is
unnecessary, for I have spoken to our host, and told him to take good
care of the fellow."
Lawrence could scarcely forbear smiling at the quiet assurance with
which Pedro spoke.
"Surely," he said, "you cannot count on his being influenced by your
commands after you are gone?"
"Yes, senhor, I can count on that, for he knows me, and I occasionally
pass this way."
Pedro turned away as he spoke and went towards the mules, the fastenings
of whose loads he carefully inspected. Lawrence went to look after his
own animal with his mind much relieved, for the manner of Pedro was such
as to inspire irresistible, almost blind, confidence.
During the first mile or two, as they rode along, our hero puzzled
himself in a vain attempt to analyse the cause of this confidence. Was
it the result of that imperturbable self-possession and invariable
readiness of resource which marked the guide; or was it the stern
truthfulness of his dark eyes, coupled with the retiring modesty and
gravity of his demeanour? Perhaps it was the union of these
characteristics. He could not tell.
While thus engaged in profound thought he was roused by Manuela riding
alongside of him, and pointing upwards with animated looks while she
exclaimed--
"See--look--senhor!"
Much surprised, for this was the first time during the journey that the
girl had ventured to attract his attention, the youth looked in the
direction indicated, and certainly the view that met his eyes was
calculated to banish not only the surprise, but all other feelings save
those of admiration of Nature and reverence for Nature's God.
They had just rounded one of those rocky bluffs which so frequently
interrupted their view during their upward journey, and had come upon a
scene which they could not find words adequately to describe. As
interjectional phrases alone could indicate something of their emotions
to each other, so fragmentary sentences alone will convey a faint
semblance of the truth to the intelligence of the reader.
Mountains, glens, and mighty cliffs; hideous precipices and yawning
gulfs; snow-clad summits high above them, and rock-riven gorges far
below. Distance upon distance ranging backward and upward to infinity,
where all was mingled with cloudland; sunlit here, darkest shadowed
there--wildness, weirdness, grandeur, and magnificence everywhere!
In the immediate foreground the serpentine path wound upward among
rugged rocks, and the riders, picking their steps, as it were, midway up
the face of a stupendous precipice, looked upward on the left at an
apparently summitless wall, and downward on the right into an almost
bottomless valley, through which a river roared as if mad with joy at
having escaped its glacier-prison; though its roaring was softened
well-nigh to silence by distance, while in appearance it seemed little
larger than a silver thread.
"I could almost believe that to be a giant's castle," remarked Lawrence,
pointing to the opposite side of the ravine, where a huge perpendicular
mountain of porphyry was so broken into turrets, towers, and
battlements, that it was difficult, except for its size, to believe it
other than the work of man. There were even holes and formations about
it that had the appearance of antique windows, gates, and drawbridges!
"Yes, it is a strange place," said the guide, checking his mule;
"moreover, we must spend the night under its shadow, for it is
impossible to reach a better place of shelter to-night; and, by good
fortune, yonder is something fresh for supper."
Pedro pointed to a spot about seven or eight hundred yards distant,
where a group of guanacos stood gazing at the intruders with profound
attention.
"How will you get near enough for a shot?" asked Lawrence; "they will be
gone before you can get across the ravine, and there is little or no
cover."
"You shall see," said Pedro, cocking his rifle.
"But--but no weapon short of a cannon will carry so far--at least with
accuracy," exclaimed Lawrence in surprise, for at the time of which we
write breech-loaders and the long-range weapons of precision had not
been introduced in those regions. Indeed, the armies of South America,
and of Europe also, still slew each other with the familiar Brown Bess
and the clumsy flint-lock at that time.
Pedro paid no attention to the remark, but, dismounting, slowly raised
the rifle to his shoulder. The guide was one of those men who seem to
live in advance of their age. He had thought out, and carried out in a
rough-and-ready manner, ideas which have since been scientifically
reduced to practice. Being well aware that any projectile is drawn
downward in its flight by the law of gravitation, and that if you want
to hit a distant point you must aim considerably above it, he had, by
careful experiment, found out how high above an object at a given
distance one must aim in order to hit, and, by constant practice in
judging distance, as well as in taking aim above his mark, he had
attained to such skill as a long-range marksman that his friends almost
believed it impossible for game to get beyond the range of his deadly
weapon, and foes never felt easy till they were entirely out of his
sight. The comparative slowness, too, of the flint-lock in discharging
a rifle, had necessitated in him a degree of steadiness, not only while
taking aim, but even after pulling the trigger, which rendered him what
we might term statuesque in his action as he levelled his piece.
For a few seconds the rock beside him was not more steady. Then the
cliffs burst into a fusillade of echoes, and the guanacos leaped wildly
up the mountain-side, leaving one of their number on the rocks behind
them.
It was some time before the young Englishman could get over his
astonishment at this feat, for Pedro had pointed his weapon so high that
he did not appear to be aiming at the animal at all, and he maintained
an animated discussion with the mountaineer until they reached a part of
the pass which proved to be somewhat dangerous.
And here they met with a party of muleteers crossing the mountains in
the opposite direction. They were still far above them when first
observed descending the same steep and narrow road.
"We will wait here till they pass," said the guide, pulling up at a
point where the width of the track was considerable. "I see by the
escort that they carry something of value--probably bars of silver from
one of the mines. They have reached the worst part of the pass. I
shouldn't wonder to see one of the mules go over--they often do."
"And always get killed, I suppose," said Lawrence.
"Not always. Now and then they have wonderful escapes, but many
hundreds have been lost here. See!"
As he spoke one of the baggage-mules of the party touched the cliff with
its load. This caused the animal to stagger; his hind-legs actually
went over the precipice, and the loose stones began to roll away from
under his hoofs. With his fore-feet, however, still on the narrow
track, he held on bravely, even sticking his nose on the ground, so that
he had the appearance of holding on by his teeth! Two of the peons
rushed to render assistance, but before they reached him he had slipped,
and rolled down the awful slope which ended in a sheer perpendicular
precipice. Here he bounded off into space, and next moment fell,
baggage and all, with a tremendous splash into the river.
It seemed impossible that the poor animal could have escaped with life,
but in another moment his head reappeared above water, and he made a
brave struggle to gain the bank. The current, however, was too strong
for him. Down he went below the foaming water, his scraggy tail making
a farewell flourish as he disappeared. But again his head appeared, and
once again he struggled for the bank. This time with success, for he
had been swept into a shallow in which he was able to maintain his
foothold and slowly drag himself out of the river. When in safety, he
stood with drooping head and tail, as if in a state of the most thorough
dejection at having made such an exhibition of himself.
"Clebber beast!" shouted Quashy, who had stood with his ten fingers
expanded, his great mouth open, and his whole emotional soul glaring out
of his monstrous eyes.
"Well done!" echoed Lawrence, who was scarcely less pleased than his
servant.
The party now drew near, and very striking was their appearance--the
variously coloured mules, following the bell-mare which went in advance
as a leader, winding slowly down the crooked path, and the peons in
their picturesque costumes shouting, laughing, or singing wild snatches
of song as they were moved by fury, fun, or fancy.
The men, who numbered a dozen or so, and were well-armed, were
apparently relieved to find that our travellers were not bandits, in
regard to whom their questions showed that they felt some anxiety. They
had witnessed Pedro's shot from the heights above, and looked upon him
with no little surprise and much respect as they commented on his power
with the rifle.
A few questions were asked, a few compliments paid, and then the two
parties, passing each other, proceeded on their respective ways.
Crossing the mountain torrent at a rather dangerous ford, towards
evening Pedro led his companions to a spot not far from the ramparts of
what Lawrence styled the giant's castle.
It was not an inviting spot at first. There was little pasture for the
wearied mules on the almost naked rocks, and the stunted trees and
gnarled roots told eloquently of the severity of winter in those high
regions. There was, however, a good spring of water and an over-arching
rock, which promised some degree of refreshment and shelter, and when
firewood was collected, a ruddy blaze sent up, the kettle put on to
boil, and several fine cuts of the guanaco set up to roast, the feelings
of sadness which had at first influenced Lawrence were put to flight,
and he felt more satisfaction in his lodging than he could have
experienced if it had been a palatial hotel with its confined air and
feather beds and cloying luxuries.
There was a species of natural recess in the cliff which Pedro screened
off as a chamber for Manuela, while she assisted Quashy to prepare the
supper.
"There's nothing like fresh mountain air," exclaimed Lawrence, with a
glow of enthusiasm, after the first attack on the guanaco steaks had
subsided.
"Specially when the said air happens to be quiet and warm, and the night
fine and the stars bright and the company pleasant," added the guide.
Quashy had a habit, when his risible faculties were only gently tickled,
of shutting his eyes, throwing back his head, opening his great mouth
wide, and indulging in a silent laugh. Having done so on the present
occasion, he shut his mouth with a snap and opened his eyes.
"Ho yis," he said in a low tone, "bery nice when it all plisent like
now, but it am anoder t'ing when de fresh mountain air goes howlerin'
an' bowlerin' about like a wild beast, an' when it snowses an frozes fit
to cut off your noses an' shribel up de bery marrow in your bones! Oh!
you got no notion what--"
"Hold your tongue, Quashy," interrupted Lawrence, "why, your description
of such things makes one shiver. Let us hope we may have no experience
of them and enjoy our comforts while we may."
"Dat's true flosuffy, massa," returned the negro, helping himself to
more guanaco, and offering some on the end of his fork to Manuela, who
accepted the same with her usual ready smile, which, however, on this
occasion, expanded into an uncontrollable little laugh.
Lawrence was perplexed, and so was Quashy, for the quiet little Indian
was not given to giggling at trifles, much less to laughing at nothing.
Lawrence observed, however, that the girl did not reach out her hand
with her usual graceful action, but on the contrary gave her arm an
awkward twist which obliged the negro to stretch needlessly far over
towards her in handing the meat.
The result was that a pannikin of coffee which Quashy had placed on his
plate--the plate being in his lap--began to tilt over. Before any one
could warn him it overturned, causing the poor man to spring up with a
yell as the hot liquid drenched his legs. Of course every one laughed.
People always do at such mild mishaps. As the coffee was not too hot,
and there was more in the kettle, Quashy joined in the laugh while he
wiped his garments, and afterwards replenished his pannikin.
But a new light began to force itself upon Lawrence. "Can it be," he
thought, "that she did that on purpose?--that she saw the pannikin was
tilting, and--no, that's impossible!"
He looked earnestly at the girl. She had recovered her gravity by that
time, and was quietly eating her supper with downcast eyes.
"Impossible," he repeated in thought, "so unlike her, and so very unlike
the Indian character." Nevertheless his perplexity remained, and when
he went to sleep that night, after gazing long and earnestly up at the
bright stars and at the white summits of the Andes which rose in awful
grandeur above him, he dreamed that while Quashy was sitting sound
asleep with his head on his knees in front of the fire, Manuela availed
herself of the opportunity to pour an ocean of hot coffee down his back!
Starting up wide awake at this, he found that Quashy lay beside him,
sleeping quietly on his back, that Pedro was similarly engaged, that the
Indian girl had disappeared into her dormitory, that the giant's castle
looked more splendidly real than ever in the rising moonlight, and that
no sound was to be heard save the brawling of the escaped river, as it
fled from its glacier-prison to its home in the mighty sea.