Soon after the trio of trackers have re-entered the _algarobia_ grove, a
frizzling, sputtering noise is heard therein; while an appetising odour
spreads all around, borne afar on the balmy breeze of the morning. Both
the sound and the smell proceed from some choice tit-bits which Gaspar
has taken from the body of the great bird--chiefly slices from the thigh
bone and breast.
By the time Cypriano has doffed the masquerading dress, and resumed his
proper travelling costume, the cooking is done, and breakfast declared
ready.
While eating it, by way of accompaniment they naturally converse about
the bird. Not the particular one which exclusively forms their repast,
but of ostriches in general, and more especially those of South America
commonly called _rheas_; though to the gauchos better known by the name
_avestruz_.
Both the boys are pretty well acquainted with these birds and their
habits; Cypriano having several times taken part in their chase; while
Ludwig best knows them in a scientific sense. Still there are many of
their ways, and strange ones, of which neither one nor the other has
ever heard, but that Gaspar has been witness to with his own eyes. It
is the gaucho, therefore, who imparts most of the information, the
others being little more than listeners.
"Though the thing isn't generally known," he says, "there are several
distinct kinds of _avestruz_ in different parts of the country. Of
myself I've seen three. First, a very small sort, not much bigger than
a turkey cock. It's darker coloured than the kind we're eating, with
shorter legs and feathered further down. It don't lay so many eggs
either; but, strange to say, they are almost as big as those of the
other sort, only differently shaped, and with a tinge of blue on the
shell. It I saw when I once went on an expedition with the Buenos Ayres
army down south to the plains of Patagonia. There the climate is much
colder than up here, and the _avestruz petise_, as the bird's called,
seems to like that best; since it's never seen on the warm pampas
farther north. On the other hand, the sort we have here, which is the
biggest of all, never strays down to these very cold districts, but goes
all over the _Chaco_ country, where it's hottest. The third kind I've
seen is in bulk about midways between the two; but it's a very rare
bird, and I believe not known to the learned _naturalistas_. Isn't that
so, Senor Ludwig?"
"Indeed, yes. I never heard of a third species, though father has told
me of the _avestruz petise_; which, as you say, is only found far south,
ranging from the Rio Negro to the Straits of Magellan."
"Well," continues Gaspar, resuming his account, "I'm sure of there being
there sorts; though I don't know much about the other two, only this
we've met here. Of them I ought to know a good deal, having hunted them
as often as there are days in the year. One thing there's been no end
of disputation about; and that is whether several hens lay their eggs in
the same nest. Now, I can say for certain they do. I've seen several
go to the same nest, one after the other, and on the same day too. What
should take them there if not to lay their eggs? True, they drop them
about everywhere, in a very loose, careless way; as can be told by their
being seen scattered all over the _campo_, and far from any nest. What
this is for I cannot myself tell; though I've heard some gauchos say
that these stray eggs--_huachos_ we call them--are laid here and there
for the young birds to feed upon. But that can't be so, since the
_huachos_ are never found pecked or broken, but always whole, whether
they be fresh or addled. I think it's more likely that the hens drop
these stray eggs because they have no nest in which to put them; that
where they have laid their others being already full. Besides, there is
the cock sitting upon it; who won't let any of them come near, once he
has taken to hatching?"
"Is it true, then, that the cock does the hatching?" interrogates
Ludwig.
"Quite true--all of it; and he's got a good many eggs to cover. I've
counted over fifty in one nest. That of itself shows no single hen
could have laid them; for, as it would take her a long time, the first
ones would be rotten before the last came. As for the cock when
sitting, he's as cross as an old duck doing the same, but _ten_ times
more dangerous to go near. I've known of a gaucho getting a kick from
one he'd started from off the nest, almost as hard as if it had been
given by a mule. And to hear them hiss then! Ah! that was nothing
we've just heard from this fellow."
"Is it true they can swim, Gaspar?" again questions Ludwig.
"Like swans. No, I'm wrong there, for nothing can be more unlike. So
far as the swimming goes, the _avestruz_ can do it, but in quite a
different way from swans. They swim with their bodies under water, and
only their shoulders, with the head and neck, above. It's a funny sight
to see a flock of them crossing one of the big rivers; and scores of
times I've been eye-witness to that bit of comicality. _Carramba_! a
curious bird, the _avestruz_ is altogether, and a useful one, as we've
now good reason to know. So, _senoritos_, let us be thankful to
Providence that there's such a plenty of them on these _pampas_, and
above all, for guiding the steps of this fine specimen, as to place it
so directly and opportunely in our way."
The discourse about ostriches is brought to a close with the breakfast
upon that which had led to it; both, along with the incident of the
bird's capture, having occupied little more time than is here taken in
telling of them. So little, indeed, that the sun's disc is not yet all
above the horizon, when, having completed the repast, the trackers start
up from their seats around the fire, and proceed to caparisoning their
animals.
Nor do they spend many moments at this. Ever mindful of what has
brought them thither--no mere excursion for pleasure's sake, but an
expedition forced upon them through sad, painful necessity--they waste
not a second that can be saved. Quickly, therefore, their horses are
got under saddle, and bridled, with every article of their _impedimenta_
fixed and fastened in its respective place, besides, something on the
croup of Ludwig _recado_, which was not hitherto there. Where the lost
traps had been carried, are now seen the two thigh-bones of the cock
ostrich, with most of the flesh still adhering, each as large as a leg
of mutton. There is a heart, liver, and gizzard also stowed away in a
wrap of a _vihao_, or wild plantain leaves, which, tied in a secure
packet, dangles alongside; the whole, as Gaspar declared, enough to keep
them provisioned for at least a couple of days.
But although everything seems in readiness, they are not yet prepared to
take a final departure from the place. A matter remains to be
determined, and one of the utmost importance--being no less than the
direction in which they should go. They have thought of it the night
before, but not till darkness had come down upon them. Still
unrecovered from the excitement consequent on the attack of the
_gymnoti_, and afterwards occupied in drying their wet garments, with
other cares of the occasion, even Gaspar had failed during daylight to
examine the nether side of the ford at its outcoming, where he supposed
he might hit upon the trail they were in search of. It was not because
he had forgotten it, but that, knowing they would stay there all night,
he also knew the tracks, if any, would keep till the morning.
Morning having arrived, from earliest daybreak and before, as is known,
they have been otherwise occupied; and only now, at the moment of moving
off, do they find time to look for that which must decide their future
course and the route they are to take.
With a parting glance at the place of bivouac, and each leading his own
horse, they move out of the _algarobia_ grove, and on down to the edge
of the _riacho_, stopping at the spot where they came across.
But not a moment spend they there, in the search for hoof-marks other
than those of their own horses. They see others soon as arrived at the
stream's edge; scores of them, and made by the same animals they have
been all along tracking. Not much in this it might appear; since
unfortunately, these hoof-marks can be distinguished no farther than to
the summit of the sloping bank. Beyond they are covered up, as
elsewhere, by the mud. But Gaspar's keen eye is not to be thus baffled;
and a joyful ejaculation escaping his lips tells he has discovered
something which gives him gladness. On Cypriano asking what it is, he
makes answer--
"Just what we're wanting to find out; the route the redskins have taken
after parting from this place. Thanks to the Virgin, I know the way
they went now, as well as if I'd been along with them."
"How do you know that?" questions Cypriano, who with Ludwig has been
examining the Indian trail down by the water's edge--apart from the
gaucho, who had followed it up to the summit of the slope.
"Come hither!" he calls out. "Look there!" he adds as they get beside
him, "You see that these tracks have the toes all turned down stream;
which tells me the horses did the same, and, I should say, also their
riders. Yes! Soon as out of the water they turned down; proof good as
positive that they've gone along the _riacho_ this side, and back again
to the big river. So it's no use our delaying longer here; there's
nothing farther to be learnt, or gained by it."
So says Gaspar; but Cypriano, and also Ludwig, think otherwise. Both
have a wish--indeed, an earnest desire--once more to look upon the
tracks of the pony on which they know Francesca to have been mounted.
And communicating this to the gaucho, he holds their horses while they
return to search for them.
To their satisfaction they again beheld the diminutive hoof-marks; two
or three of which have escaped being trampled out by the horses that
came behind. And after regarding them for a time with sad glances,
Ludwig turns away sighing, while his cousin gives utterance to what more
resembles a curse, accompanied by words breathing vengeance against the
abductors.
Rejoining the gaucho, all three mount into their saddles; and, without
further dallying, ride off down the _riacho_, to make back for the main
river.
But, again upon the latter's bank, they find the trail blind as before,
with nothing to guide them, save the stream itself. To the gaucho,
however, this seems sufficient, and turning his horses's head upward, he
cries out--
"Now, _muchachos mios_! we must on to the _salitral_!"
And on for this they ride; to reach the point where it commences, just
as the sun's lower limb touches, seeming to rest on the level line of
the horizon.
And now, having arrived on the edge of the _salitral_, they make halt,
still keeping to their saddles, with eyes bent over the waste which
stretches far beyond and before them. Greater than ever is the gloom in
their looks as they behold the sterile tract, which should have shown
snow-white, all black and forbidding. For the _salitral_, as all the
rest of the campo, is covered with a stratum of mud, and the _travesia_
across it has been altogether obliterated.
Gaspar only knows the place where it begins; this by the bank of the
river which there also commences its curve, turning abruptly off to the
south. He thinks the route across the _salitral_ is due westward, but
he is not sure. And there is no sign of road now, not a trace to
indicate the direction. Looking west, with the sun's disc right before
their faces, they see nothing but the brown bald expanse, treeless as
cheerless, with neither break nor bush, stick nor stone, to relieve the
monotony of its surface, or serve as a land-mark for the traveller. And
the same thing both to the right and left, far as their eyes can reach;
for here the river, after turning off, has no longer a skirting of
trees; its banks beyond being a low-lying saline marsh--in short, a part
of the _salitral_. To ride out upon that wilderness waste, to all
appearance endless, with any chance or hope of finding the way across
it, would be like embarking in an open boat, and steering straight for
the open ocean.
Not on that night, anyhow, do they intend making the attempt, as the
darkness will soon be down upon them. So dismounting from their horses,
they set about establishing a camp.
But when established they take little delight in its occupation. Now
more than ever are they doubtful and dejected; thinking of that terrible
_travesia_, of which all traces are lost, and none may be found beyond.
To Cypriano no night since their starting out seemed so long as this.
Little dream they, while seated around their camp-fire, or lying
sleepless alongside it, that the tract of country they so much dread
entering upon, will, in a few hours' time, prove their best friend.
Instead of sending them further astray it will put them once more on the
lost trail, with no longer a likelihood of their again losing it.
Unaware of this good fortune before them, they seek rest with feelings
of the utmost despondency, and find sleep only in short snatches.