It must have been midnight when Piñone’s solemn, chanting voice ceased,
and the strange story of his own and his father’s wonderful adventures
amongst the Trauco people came to an end. Then he arose from his seat by
the fire, and aroused half a dozen of the Indians, bidding them take
their turn at watching, and keeping up the fires, after which both he
and Aniwee, rolling themselves up in their fur capas, gave themselves up
to sleep.
“Now, boys and girls, down you lie, and try and get some rest, if indeed
the startling story you have heard does not drive sleep from your eyes,”
exclaimed Lady Vane, as she prepared to follow the Indians’ example. And
the boys and girls obeyed her at once, for fatigue was already beginning
to make itself felt on their young frames.
But Topsie, tired as she was, could not sleep. As she lay on her back,
cosily enveloped in her warm fur capa, she could see the stars twinkling
above her, and the pale moon shining its green light on the distant
snow-capped peaks of the Andes looming against the sky. The dark trees
of the forest looked like huge giants in the same fantastic light, and
the night wind rustled in their leaves, and enabled imagination to
people them with many a laughing elf and fairy sprite. Then the girl’s
eyes wandered to the horses, as they quietly cropped the long grass
beneath them, thence to the sleeping forms of her companions, and on to
the six watching Indians as they sat around the fire chatting and
smoking their pipes, two of the number being Coquet and Chorlo.
Topsie’s brain was busy, and her thoughts were far away. She was
thinking of that great gold mine of Or, which had claimed a victim to
the arms of death each time that it had been visited. She was thinking
of the gallant, large-eyed Trauco queen, to whose heart had come that
feeling of love, which, old since the world began, has aroused many to
do and dare for its sake, and her thoughts dwelt lingeringly around the
spot, where the brave strange being had died to save the life of the
handsome Cacique, whom she had loved, not selfishly but with the all
true instincts of human nature. And then she found herself wondering how
the expedition on which they had embarked would end, and picturing the
great, unknown, and untrodden scenes through which they were destined to
make their way; then the firelight danced in her eyes, the figures of
the Indians around it grew dim, the weird forest faded from her sight,
the stars and moon went out, as the weary girl succumbed at length in
the arms of refreshing sleep.
When she awoke, the dim grey of first dawn held sway, but soon it became
tinged with yellow, and red, and gold, and purple light, as the
revolving earth wound on its course to meet the God of day, and bathe in
his glowing and effulgent warmth. As he appeared rosy and beautiful
above the dark forest, the sleeping Indians began to open their eyes;
for with these children of nature, did not this gorgeous lamp herald the
birth of a new-born day? In a short time business and activity, bustle
and movement reigned, where all had been peaceful and still.
First came the maté bowl, and then a general saddling of steeds, after
which every one mounted, and headed by Shag, the journey was recommenced
in the same order as the previous day. But not before Sir Francis and
Piñone, as leaders of the expedition, had held careful and anxious
council, and thoroughly discussed the proposed search for La Guardia
Chica. From what Piñone had recounted of his experience amongst the
Traucos, Sir Francis had little doubt in his mind but that the child had
been carried off to the village on the banks of the river where her
father and grandfather had so long lived in captivity. In this opinion
the Araucanian Cacique concurred, and he expressed himself as confident
of being able to lead the expeditionary party thereto, after once
gaining the banks of the river which he had so lately quitted as the
Traucos’ captive.
Three days were spent in traversing the forest, and in reaching the
borders thereof, which opened on to the plain, through whose basin
flowed the sluggish river, which had played so important a part in the
fortunes of Harry and Topsie two years previously during their
wanderings in Patagonia, when, as young Castaways, they had roamed that
lonely, mysterious land with the Tehuelche Indians, and in the girl
Aniwee’s company. And a very important part, too, it had played in the
fortunes of Piñone, as we have seen. It was, therefore, with mixed
feelings that every one halted and viewed it from afar, as it wound its
snake-like course through the wooded ranges which girt the bases of the
glorious Cordilleras.
“Who votes a race for the river?” cried Freddy, appealing to the younger
members of the party as they sat at ease on their respective steeds.
Tired with the slow pace at which they had been proceeding for the last
few days, they accepted the challenge. Amidst the laughter of the
Indians, in which Sir Francis and Lady Vane cordially joined, our five
young friends set off as hard as their horses could gallop, each
desirous of first reaching the river.
“It is not wise,” remarked Piñone gravely, “for the Caciques to leave
the main party. If they fell into Trauco hands they could not escape.
Let us gallop after them, and rejoin them quickly.”
It was wise advice, and Sir Francis and Lady Vane hastened to adopt it.
Next moment the whole party were thundering across the plain in the wake
of the girls and boys, whom Shag, as a matter of course, had
accompanied. On reaching the river’s banks Piñone at once declared that
he recognised the spot, and pronounced it to be about twenty or thirty
miles due north of the settlement where dwelt the half-dozen
white-haired Traucos. He strongly advised a halt at this juncture, and
urged the wisdom of constructing a strong raft, upon which, in case of
necessity, they could take refuge. As they had axes and an abundance of
strong hide-thongs with them, he declared that the raft could easily be
put together in a few days.
Sir Francis yielded to this prudent advice, and when not busy lending a
hand in its construction, the young people of the party would amuse
themselves by fishing in the river or bathing therein. But Aniwee sat
apart, moody and restless. The loss of her child had grievously affected
her spirits, and the anxiety and suspense to which she fell a victim
were hard to bear. She strove to be brave, this girl Queen, but her
heart was grievously torn, and she who could charge in the fiercest
battle, ride the wildest of horses, take a foremost part in the most
dangerous of sports, found it hard to face the trial which had come to
darken her life, just at the very moment when, by the restoration of
Piñone, she had thought her life brimful of promise, and good fortune,
and happiness bright beyond compare. Blancha was her faithful attendant,
seldom quitting her side, and Graviel, when not otherwise engaged in
serving Piñone, would render her many a little service and respectful
attention. The young Cacique, too, did all in his power to cheer her,
and give her hope in the successful issue of the expedition, at the same
time assuring her of the kind treatment which the child would receive.
This had helped, more than anything else, to raise Aniwee’s spirits from
their deep despondency, though suspense still made her moody and sad.
One afternoon the two girls and the three boys were fishing by the
river, when Mary, who was about fifty yards down stream, suddenly began
to call loudly for help. Harry, Topsie, and Freddy at once ran towards
her, but as they did so they saw her jerked violently forward, and still
clinging to the line, fall headlong into the river. Being a first-rate
swimmer, this did not concern them so much; but they were a good deal
startled when they saw her dragged right across to the other side, then
up stream, and then down stream again, at an alarming rate, the water
rising in foam, and swirling all round her with a hissing sound.
“What is it, Mary?” shouted Harry to his cousin.
“I have hooked something big,” gasped the girl.
“But let it go, Mary, let it go!” cried Topsie and Freddy in one breath.
At the same time Sir Francis, Lady Vane, and Aniwee came running up.
“I can’t,” again gasped the girl; “the line is tied to my wrist, and I
can’t break it.”
As she spoke she was almost dragged under by the force of the animal,
whatever it might be, which she had hooked to her line, and for a second
her head was entirely submerged. In a moment Harry had jumped in to help
her, followed by Freddy. It was lucky they did so, for the furious
captive had begun lashing the water, and doing its utmost to drag its
captor below, and if Mary had not been a strong, muscular girl she must
have succumbed. As it was, when Harry and Freddy swam to her side and
grasped the line, it was all the united three could accomplish to
prevent themselves being towed down stream.
At this juncture Piñone came running up with a lasso, followed by the
rest of the Indians, and Shag, who had been off on a private hunt of his
own, put in an appearance. Topsie at once called him, and putting the
noose end of the lasso in his mouth, bade him swim with it to Harry. The
good dog at once obeyed, and the lad, on receiving it, slipped it over
Mary’s shoulders, and bade Freddy catch hold of it as well as the line.
He then proceeded to do the same himself, after which he called to those
on land to haul in. They responded with a will, but the burden was
heavy, and the strain very great. Yet the good lasso held out stoutly,
and presently all were landed.
Poor Mary’s wrist was considerably lacerated by the line, from which she
was at once freed, and then began the business of landing the big catch,
still a mystery to every one.
It resisted to its utmost, lashing the water furiously, and swirling to
and fro like a very torpedo, but it was no match for twenty strong pair
of arms, and was finally brought to the surface amidst the shouts of the
Indians, the cries of astonishment of the children, and the loud
barkings of Shag. Amidst this pandemonium of noises the wretched monster
was landed from the cool waters of that river, to which it was never
destined to return.
With the instincts of true humanity, Sir Francis at once put an end to
its life by a blow from his hatchet on its head, and then every one
crowded round to inspect the extraordinary creature, the like of which
had never been seen by any of those present before. It was truly a
monster and a monstrosity as well.
Its head was broad and flat, and the skull stood forward over the
beast’s eyes like a cap. These eyes were small and fiery-looking, and
the mouth, which it had unclosed in its death gasp, was ornamented with
two rows of thin sharp pointed teeth, very like French nails in
appearance. Its body was about six feet long, between an eel and serpent
in shape, and about two feet in diameter. The skin, however, was not
smooth, like either the former or the latter, but scaly, and very
similar to the mailed coat of a crocodile, and apparently of extreme
toughness, for the axe blow dealt by Sir Francis had inflicted no mark
thereon, though the force thereof had killed the life in the monster’s
body.
“Well, Mary, if I ever—no, Mary, no I never!” sang out Harry as he
looked at his pretty cousin, who had been instrumental in bringing to
light this extraordinary animal; “talk of sea-monsters and sea-serpents,
I call this the most diabolical serpent I ever saw in my life. What is
your opinion, Shag?”
Shag looked wise at this remark, and wagged his tail. He evidently
agreed with Harry.
“Well, you all look like drowned rats,” laughed Lady Vane; “fortunately
you have each got a change of clothing. Run, Mary, and do you dear boys
go and get changed, while the Indians bring this dreadful-looking
monster to the raft. It must be skinned, and kept as a trophy by Mary
the discoverer.”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]