At the crisis described, the Indian party is no longer travelling upon
the Pilcomayo's bank, nor near it. They have parted from it at a point
where the river makes one of its grand curves, and are now crossing the
neck of the peninsula embraced within its windings. This isthmus is in
width at least twenty miles, and of a character altogether different
from the land lying along the river's edge. In short, a sterile,
treeless expanse, or "travesia"--for such there are in the Chaco--not
barren because of infertility in the soil, but from the want of water to
fertilise it. Withal, it is inundated at certain periods of the year by
the river's overflow, but in the dry season parched by the rays of a
tropical sun. Its surface is then covered with a white efflorescence,
which resembles a heavy hoar frost; this, called _salitre_, being a sort
of impure saltpetre, left after the evaporation and subsidence of the
floods.
They have entered this cheerless waste, and are about midway across it,
when the cry of alarm is heard; he who gave utterance to it being older
than the others, and credited with greater knowledge of things. That
which had caught his attention, eliciting the cry, is but a phenomenon
of Nature, though not one of an ordinary kind; still, not so rare in the
region of the Chaco; since all of them have more than once witnessed it.
But the thing itself is not yet apparent save to him who has shouted,
and this only by the slightest sign giving portent of its approach. For
it is, in truth, a storm.
Even after the alarmist has given out his warning note, and stands on
his horse's hips, gazing off in a certain direction, the others, looking
the same way, can perceive nothing to account for his strange behaviour.
Neither upon the earth, nor in the heavens, does there appear anything
that should not be there. The sun is coursing through a cloudless sky,
and the plain, far as eye can reach, is without animate object upon it;
neither bird nor beast having its home in the _salitre_. Nothing
observable on that wide, cheerless waste, save the shadows of themselves
and their horses, cast in dark _silhouette_ across the hoary expanse,
and greatly elongated; for it is late in the afternoon, and the sun
almost down to the horizon.
"What is it?" asks Aguara, the first to speak, addressing himself to the
Indian who gave out the cry. "You appear to apprehend danger?"
"And danger there is, chief," returns the other. "Look yonder!" He
points to the level line between earth and sky, in the direction towards
which they are travelling. "Do you not see something?"
"No, nothing."
"Not that brown-coloured stripe just showing along the sky's edge, low,
as if it rested on the ground?"
"Ah, yes; I see that. Only a little mist over the river, I should say."
"Not that, chief. It's a cloud, and one of a sort to be dreaded. See!
it's rising higher, and, it I'm not mistaken, will ere long cover the
whole sky."
"But what do you make of it? To me it looks like smoke."
"No; it isn't that either. There's nothing out that way to make fire--
neither grass nor trees; therefore, it can't be smoke."
"What, then? You appear to know!"
"I do. 'Tis _dust_."
"Dust! A drove of wild horses? Or may they be mounted? Ah! you think
it's a party of Guaycurus?"
"No, indeed. But something we may dread as much--ay, more--than them.
If my eyes don't deceive me, that's a _tormenta_."
"Ha!" exclaims the young cacique, at length comprehending. "A
_tormenta_, you think it is?"
The others of the band mechanically mutter the same word, in like tones
of apprehension. For although slow to perceive the sign, even yet but
slightly perceptible, all of them have had experience of the danger.
"I do, chief," answers he interrogated. "Am now sure of it."
While they are still speaking it--the cloud--mounts higher against the
blue background of sky, as also becomes more extended along the line of
the horizon. Its colour, too, has sensibly changed, now presenting a
dun yellowish appearance, like that mixture of smoke and mist known as a
"London fog." But it is somewhat brighter, as though it hung over,
half-concealing and smothering, the flames of some grand conflagration.
And as they continue regarding it, red corruscations begin to shoot
through its opaque mass, which they can tell to be flashes of lightning.
Yet all this while, upon the spot where they have pulled up the sun is
shining serenely, and the air still and tranquil as if gale or breeze
had never disturbed it!
But it is a stillness abnormal, unnatural, accompanied by a scorching
heat, with an atmosphere so close as to threaten suffocation.
This, however, lasts but a short while. For in less than ten minutes
after the cloud was first descried, a wind reaches them blowing directly
from it at first, in puffs and gusts, but cold as though laden with
sleet, and so strong as to sweep several of them from the backs of their
horses. Soon after all is darkness above and around them. Darkness as
of night; for the dust has drifted over the sun, and its disc is no
longer visible--having disappeared as in a total eclipse, but far more
suddenly.
It is too late for them to retreat to any place of shelter, were one
ever so near, which there is not. And well know they the danger of
being caught in that exposed spot; so well that the scene now exhibited
in their ranks is one of fright and confusion.
Terrified exclamations are sent up on all sides, but only one voice of
warning, this from him who had first descried the cloud.
"From your horses!" he calls out, "take shelter behind them, and cover
your faces with your _jergas_! If you don't you'll be blinded
outright."
His counsel acts as a command; though it is not needed, all of them, as
himself, sensible of the approaching peril. In a trice they have
dropped to the ground, and plucking the pieces of skins which serve them
as saddles, from the backs of their horses, muffle up their faces as
admonished. Then each clutching the halter of his own, and holding it
so as to prevent the animal changing position, they await the onslaught
of the storm.
Meanwhile, Aguara has not been inactive. Instead of having seized the
pony's bridle-rein, he has passed round to the rear of the troop,
leading his captive along with him; for the wind strikes them in front.
There in the lee of all, better sheltered, he dismounts, flings his arms
around the unresisting girl, and sets her afoot upon the ground. He
does all this gently, as though he were a friend or brother! For he has
not lost hope he may yet win her heart.
"Star of my life," he says to her, speaking in the Tovas tongue, which
she slightly understands. "As you see we're in some danger, but it will
soon pass. Meanwhile, we must take steps to guard against it. So,
please to lie down, and this will protect you."
While speaking, he takes the plumed cloak from his shoulders and spreads
it over those of the captive, at the same time covering her head with
it, as if it were a hood. Then he gently urges her to lie on the
ground.
To all she submits mechanically, and without offering opposition; though
she little cares about the dust-storm--whether it blind or altogether
destroy her.
Soon after it is on and over them in all its fury, causing their horses
to cower and kick, many screaming in affright or from the pain they have
to endure. For not only does the _tormenta_ carry dust with it, but
sand, sticks, and stones, some of the latter so large and sharp as often
to inflict severe wounds. Something besides in that now assailing them;
which sweeping across the _salitral_ has lifted the sulphureous
efflorescence, that beats into their eyes bitter and blinding as the
smoke of tobacco. But for having muffled up their faces, more than one
of the party would leave that spot sightless, if not smothered outright.
For nearly an hour the tempest continues, the wind roaring in their
ears, and the dust and gravel clouting against their naked skins, now
and then a sharp angled pebble lacerating them. At times the blast is
so strong they have difficulty in keeping their places; still more in
holding their horses to windward. And all the while there is lightning
and thunder, the last loud and rolling continuously. At length the
wind, still keenly cold, is accompanied by a sleety rain, which pours
upon them in torrents, chill as if coming direct from the snowy slopes
of the Cordilleras--as in all likelihood it does.
They know that this is a sign of the _tormenta_ approaching its end,
which soon after arrives; terminating almost as abruptly as it had
begun. The dust disappears from the sky, that which has settled on the
ground now covering its surface with a thick coating of mud--converted
into this by the rain--while the sun again shines forth in all its
glory, in a sky bright and serene as if cloud had never crossed it!
The _tormenta_ is over, or has passed on to another part of the great
Chaco plain.
And now the Tovas youths, their naked skins well washed by the shower,
and glistening like bronze fresh from the furnace--some of them,
however, bleeding from the scratches they have received--spring upon
their feet, re-adjust the _jergas_ on the backs of their horses, and
once more remount.
Then their young chief, by the side of the captive girl, having returned
to his place at their head, they forsake that spot of painful
experience, and continue their journey so unexpectedly interrupted.