After three months of steady travel, the country, which had become
more and more hilly as they advanced toward the west, assumed a
different character. The hills became mountains, and it was clear
that they were arriving at a great range running north and south.
They had for some time left the broad plains behind them, and game
was very scarce. The Indians had of late been more and more
disinclined to go far to the west, and the tribe with whom they
were now traveling told them that they could go no farther. They
signified that beyond the mountains dwelt tribes with whom they
were unacquainted, but who were fierce and warlike. One of the
party, who had once crossed, said that the people there had fires
like those which the white men had taught them to make.
"You see, Tom," Ned said, "they must have been in contact with the
Spaniards, or at least with tribes who have learned something from
the Spaniards. In that case our supernatural power will be at an
end, and our color will be against us, as they will regard us as
Spaniards, and so as enemies. At any rate, we must push on and take
our chance."
From the Indian they learned that the track lay up a valley before
them, that after a day's walking they would have to begin the
ascent. Another day's journey would take them to a neck between two
peaks, and the passage of this would occupy at least a day. The
native described the cold as great here, even in summer, and that
in winter it was terrible. Once across the neck, the descent on the
other side began.
"There can be no snow in the pass now, Tom; it is late in December,
and the hottest time of the year; and although we must be a very
great height above the sea, for we have been rising ever since we
left the coast, we are not so very far south, and I cannot believe
the snow can now lie in the pass. Let us take a good stock of dried
meat, a skin for water--we can fill it at the head of the
valley--and make our way forward. I do not think the sea can lie
very far on the other side of this range of mountains, but at any
rate, we must wait no longer. Captain Drake may have passed
already, but we may still be in time."
The next morning they bade adieu to their companions, with whom
they had been traveling for a fortnight. These, glad again to turn
their faces homeward, set off at once; and the lads, shouldering
their packs, started up the valley. The scenery was grand in the
extreme, and Ned and Tom greatly enjoyed it. Sometimes the sides
approached in perpendicular precipices, leaving barely room for the
little stream to find its way between their feet; at others it was
half a mile wide. When the rocks were not precipitous the sides
were clothed with a luxuriant foliage, among which the birds
maintained a concert of call and song. So sheltered were they that,
high as it was above the sea, the heat was very oppressive; and
when they reached the head of the valley, late in the afternoon,
they were glad indeed of a bathe in a pool of the stream.
Choosing a spot of ground near the stream, the lads soon made a
fire, put their pieces of venison down to roast, and prepared for a
quiet evening.
"It seems strange to be alone again, Tom, after so many months with
those Indians; who were ever on the watch for every movement and
word, as if they were inspired. It is six months, now, since we
left the western coast; and one almost seems to forget that one is
English. We have picked up something of half a dozen Indian
dialects; we can use their weapons almost as well as they can
themselves; and as to our skins, they are as brown as that of the
darkest of them. The difficulty will be to persuade the people on
the other side that we are whites."
"How far do you think the sea lies on the other side of this range
of giant mountains?" Tom asked.
"I have no idea," Ned replied, "and I do not suppose that anyone
else has. The Spaniards keep all matters connected with this coast
a mystery; but I believe that the sea cannot be many days' march
beyond the mountains."
For an hour or two they chatted quietly, their thoughts naturally
turning again to England, and the scenes of their boyhood.
"Will it be necessary to watch, think you?" Tom asked.
"I think it would be safer, Tom. One never knows. I believe that we
are now beyond the range of the natives of the Pampas. They
evidently have a fear of approaching the hills; but that only shows
that the natives from the other side come down over here. I believe
that they were, when the Spaniards landed, peaceable people; quiet
and gentle. So at least they are described. But those who take to
the mountains must be either escaped slaves, or fugitives from the
cruelty of the Spaniards; and even the gentlest man, when driven to
desperation, becomes savage and cruel. To these men our white skins
would be like a red rag to a bull. They can never have heard of any
white people, save the Spaniards; and we need expect little mercy
if we fall into their hands. I think we had better watch, turn
about. I will take the first watch, for I am not at all sleepy, and
my thoughts seem busy tonight, with home."
Tom was soon fast asleep, and Ned sat quietly watching the embers
of the fire, occasionally throwing on fresh sticks, until he deemed
that nearly half the night was gone. Then he aroused his companion
and lay down himself, and was soon fast asleep.
The gray light was just beginning to break when he was aroused by a
sudden yell, accompanied by a cry from Tom. He leaped to his feet,
just in time to see a crowd of natives rush upon himself and his
comrade, discharging as they did so numbers of small arrows,
several of which pierced him as he rose to his feet. Before they
could grasp their bows, or any other weapons, the natives were upon
them. Blows were showered down with heavy clubs and, although the
lads made a desperate resistance, they were beaten to the ground in
a short time. The natives at once twisted strong thongs round their
limbs; and then, dragging them from the fire, sat down themselves
and proceeded to roast the remains of the boys' deer meat.
"This is a bad business indeed, Tom," Ned said. "These men
doubtless take us for Spaniards. They certainly must belong to the
other side of the mountains, for their appearance and language are
altogether different to those of the people we have been staying
with. These men are much smaller, slighter, and fairer. Runaways
though no doubt they are, they seem to have more care about their
persons, and to be more civilized in their appearance and weapons,
than the savages of the plains."
"What do you think they will do with us, Ned?"
"I have no doubt in the world, Tom, that their intention is either
to put us to death with some horrible torture, or to roast us. The
Spaniards have taught them these things, if they did not know them
before; and in point of atrocities, nothing can possibly exceed
those which the Spaniards have inflicted upon them and their
fathers."
Whatever were the intentions of the Indians, it was soon evident
that there would be some delay in carrying them out. After they had
finished their meal, they rose from the fire. Some amused
themselves by making arrows from the straight reeds that grew by
the stream. Others wandered listlessly about. Some threw themselves
upon the ground and slept; while others, coming up to the boys,
poured torrents of invective upon them, among which they could
distinguish in Spanish the words "dog" and "Spaniard," varying
their abuse by violent kicks. As, however, these were given by the
naked feet, they did not seriously inconvenience the boys.
"What can they be waiting for?" Tom said. "Why don't they do
something if they are going to do it."
"I expect," Ned answered, "that they are waiting for some chief, or
for the arrival of some other band, and that we are to be kept for
a grand exhibition."
So it proved. Three days passed, and upon the fourth another band,
smaller in numbers, joined them. Upon the evening of that day the
lads saw that their fate was about to be brought to a crisis. The
fire was made up with huge bundles of wood; the natives took their
seats around it, with gravity and order; and the boys were led
forward by four natives, armed with spears. Then began what was a
regular trial. The boys, although they could not understand a word
of the language, could yet follow the speeches of the excited
orators. One after another arose and told the tale of the treatment
that he had experienced. One showed the weals which covered his
back. Another held up his arm, from which the hand had been lopped.
A third pointed to the places where his ears once had been. Another
showed the scar of a hot iron on his arms and legs. Some went
through a pantomime, which told its tale of an attack upon some
solitary hut, the slaughter of the old and infirm, and the dragging
away of the men and women into slavery. Others spoke of long
periods of labor, in a bent position, in a mine, under the cruel
whip of the taskmaster. All had their tale of barbarity and cruelty
to recite and, as each speaker contributed his quota, the anger and
excitement of the rest rose.
"Poor devils!" Ned said; "no wonder that they are savage against
us. See what they have suffered at the hands of the white men. If
we had gone through as much, you may be sure that we should spare
none. Our only chance is to make them understand that we are not
Spanish; and that, I fear, is beyond all hope."
This speedily proved to be the case. Two or three of the natives
who spoke a few words of Spanish came to them, calling them Spanish
dogs.
Ned shook his head and said, "Not Spanish."
For all reply the natives pointed to the uncovered portions of
their body, pulled back the skins which covered their arms and,
pointing to the white flesh, laughed incredulously.
"White men are Spaniards, and Spaniards are white men," Tom
groaned, "and that we shall have to die, for the cruelty which the
Spaniards have perpetrated, is clear enough.
"Well, Ned, we have had more good fortune than we could have
expected. We might have been killed on the day when we landed, and
we have spent six jolly months in wandering together, as hunters,
on the plain. If we must die, let us behave like Englishmen and
Christians. It may be that our lives have not been as good as they
should have been; but so far as we know, we have both done our
duty; and it may be that, as we die for the faults of others, it
may come to be considered as a balance against our own faults."
"We must hope so, Tom. I think we have both done, I won't say our
best, but as well as could be expected in so rough a life. We have
followed the exhortations of the good chaplain, and have never
joined in the riotous ways of the sailors in general. We must trust
that the good God will forgive us our sins, and strengthen us to go
through this last trial."
While they had been speaking the natives had made an end of their
deliberation. Tom was now conducted, by two natives with spears, to
a tree; and was securely fastened. Ned, under the guard of the
other two, was left by the fire. The tree was situated at a
distance of some twenty yards from it, and the natives mostly took
their place near the fire. Some scattered among the bushes, and
presently reappeared bearing bundles of dry wood. These were laid
in order round the tree, at such a distance that the flames would
not touch the prisoner, but the heat would gradually roast him to
death.
As Ned observed the preparations for the execution of his friend,
the sweat stood in great drops on his forehead; and he would have
given anything to be able to rush to his assistance, and to die
with him. Had his hands been free he would, without hesitation,
have snatched up a bow and sent an arrow into Tom's heart, to
release him from the lingering death which awaited him; and he
would then have stabbed himself with a spear. But while his hands
were sufficiently free to move a little, the fastenings were too
tight to admit of his carrying out any plan of that sort.
Suddenly an idea struck him, and he began nervously to tug at his
fastenings. The natives, when they seized them, had bound them
without examining their clothes. It was improbable that men in savage
attire could have about them any articles worth appropriating. The
knives, indeed, which hung from their belts had been cut off; but
these were the only articles which had been touched.
Just as a man approached the fire and, seizing a brand, stooped
forward to light the pyre, Ned succeeded in freeing his hands
sufficiently to seize the object which he sought. This was his
powder flask, which was wrapped in the folds of the cloth round his
waist. With little difficulty he succeeded in freeing it and,
moving a step closer to the fire, he cast it into the midst of it,
at the very moment the man with the lighted brand was approaching
Tom. Then he stepped back as far as he could from the fire. The
natives on guard over him, not understanding the movement, and
thinking he meditated flight, closed around him.
An instant later there was a tremendous explosion. The red hot
embers were flaming in all directions, and both Ned and the savages
who stood by him were, with many others, struck to the ground. As
soon as he was able, Ned struggled up again.
Not a native was in sight. A terrific yell had broken from them at
the explosion, which sounded to them like one of the cannons of
their Spanish oppressors; and, smarting with the wounds
simultaneously made by the hot brands, each, without a moment's
thought, had taken to his heels. Tom gave a shout of exultation, as
Ned rose. The latter at once stooped and, with difficulty, picked
up one of the still blazing brands, and hurried towards the tree.
"If these fellows will remain away for a couple of minutes, Tom,
you shall be free," he said, "and I don't think they will get over
their scare as quickly as that."
So saying, he applied the end of the burning brand to the dry
withes with which Tom was bound to the tree. These at once took
fire and flared up, and the bands fell to the ground.
"Now, Tom, do me the same service."
This was quickly rendered, and the lads stood free.
"Now, let us get our weapons."
A short search revealed to them their bows, laid carefully aside,
while the ground was scattered with the arms which the natives, in
their panic, had dropped.
"Pick them all up, Tom, and toss them on the fire. We will take the
sting out of the snake, in case it tries to attack us again."
In a minute or two a score of bows, spears, and others weapons were
thrown on the fire; and the boys then, leaving the place which had
so nearly proved fatal to them, took their way up the mountain
side. It was a long pull, the more so that they had the food,
water, and large skins for protection from the night air to carry.
Steadily as they kept on, with only an occasional halt for breath,
it was late before they emerged from the forest and stood upon a
plateau between two lofty hills. This was bare and treeless, and
the keen wind made them shiver, as they met it.
"We will creep among the trees, Tom; and be off at daybreak,
tomorrow. However long the journey, we must get across the pass
before we sleep, for the cold there would be terrible."
A little way down the crest it was so warm that they needed no
fire, while a hundred feet higher, exposed to the wind from the
snow-covered peaks, the cold was intense. They kept careful watch,
but the night passed quietly. The next morning they were on foot,
as soon as the voices of the birds proclaimed the approach of day.
As they emerged from the shelter of the trees they threw their deer
skins round them, to act as cloaks, and stepped out at their best
pace. The dawn of day was yet faint in the east; the stars burning
bright as lamps overhead, in the clear thin air; and the cold was
so great that it almost stopped their breathing.
Half an hour later the scene had changed altogether. The sun had
risen, and the air felt warm. The many peaks on either side
glistened in the flood of bright light. The walking was easy,
indeed, after the climb of the previous day; and their burdens were
much lightened by their consumption of food and water. The pass was
of irregular width, sometimes but a hundred yards, sometimes fully
a mile across. Long habit and practice with the Indians had
immensely improved their walking powers and, with long elastic
strides, they put mile after mile behind them. Long before the sun
was at its highest a little stream ran beside them, and they saw,
by the course of its waters, that they had passed the highest part
of the pass through the Cordilleras.
Three hours later they suddenly emerged, from a part where the
hills approached nearer on either side than they had done during
the day's walk, and a mighty landscape opened before and below
them. The boys gave, simultaneously, a loud shout of joy; and then
dropped on their knees, in thanks to God, for far away in the
distance was a dark level blue line, and they knew the ocean was
before them.
"How far off should you say it was, Ned?" Tom asked, when they had
recovered a little from their first outburst of joy.
"A long way off," Ned said. "I suppose we must be fifteen thousand
feet above it, and even in this transparent air it looks an immense
distance away. I should say it must be a hundred miles."
"That's nothing!" Tom said. "We could do it in two days, in three
easily."
"Yes, supposing we had no interruption and a straight road," Ned
said. "But we must not count our chickens yet. This vast forest
which we see contains tribes of natives, bitterly hostile to the
white man, maddened by the cruelties of the Spaniards, who enslave
them and treat them worse than dogs. Even when we reach the sea, we
may be a hundred or two hundred miles from a large Spanish town;
and however great the distance, we must accomplish it, as it is
only at large towns that Captain Drake is likely to touch."
"Well, let us be moving," Tom said. "I am strong for some hours'
walking yet, and every day will take us nearer to the sea."
"We need not carry our deer skins any farther," Ned said, throwing
his down. "We shall be sweltering under the heat tomorrow, below
there."
Even before they halted for the night, the vegetation had assumed a
tropical character, for they had already descended some five
thousand feet.
"I wish we could contrive to make a fire tonight," Ned said.
"Why?" Tom asked. "I am bathed in perspiration, now."
"We shall not want it for heat, but the chances are that there are
wild beasts of all sorts in this forest."
Ned's premises turned out correct, for scarcely had night fallen
when they heard deep roarings, and lost no time in ascending a
tree, and making themselves fast there, before they went to sleep.
In the morning they proceeded upon their journey. After walking a
couple of hours, Ned laid his arm upon Tom's shoulder.
"Hush!" he whispered. "Look there."
Through the trees, at a short distance off, could be seen a stag.
He was standing, gazing intently at a tree, and did not appear to
have heard their approach.
"What can he be up to?" Tom whispered. "He must have heard us."
"He seems paralyzed," Ned said. "Don't you see how he is trembling?
There must be some wild beast in the tree."
Both gazed attentively at the tree, but could see nothing to
account for the attitude of the deer.
"Wild beast or no," Ned said, "he will do for our dinner."
So saying, he unslung his bow, and fitted an arrow. There was a
sharp twang, and the deer rolled over, struck to the heart. There
was no movement in the tree, but Ned placed another arrow in place.
Tom had done the same.
They stood silent for a few minutes, but all was still.
"Keep your eyes on the tree and advance slowly," Ned said. "Have
your sword ready in case of need. I cannot help thinking there is
something there, though what it is I can't make out."
Slowly, and with the greatest caution, they approached the tree.
All was perfectly still.
"No beast big enough to hurt us can be up there," Ned said at last.
"None of the branches are thick enough to hide him.
"Now for the stag."
Ned bent over the carcass of the deer, which lay a few feet only
from the tree. Then suddenly there was a rapid movement among the
creepers which embraced the trunk, something swept between Ned and
Tom, knocking the latter to the ground, while a cry of alarm and
astonishment rose from Ned.
Confused and surprised, Tom sprang to his feet, instinctively
drawing his sword as he did so. For a moment he stood, paralyzed
with horror. A gigantic snake had wound its coils round Ned's body.
Its head towered above his, while its eyes flashed menacingly, and
its tongue vibrated with a hissing sound as it gazed at Tom. Its
tail was wound round the trunk of the tree. Ned was powerless, for
his arms were pinioned to his side by the coils of the reptile.
It was but a moment that Tom stood appalled. He knew that, at any
instant, by the tightening of its folds the great boa could crush
every bone of Ned's body; while the very closeness of its embrace
rendered it impossible for him to strike at it, for fear of
injuring its captor. There was not an instant to be lost. Already
the coils were tightening, and a hoarse cry broke from Ned.
With a rapid spring Tom leaped beyond his friend, and with a blow,
delivered with all his strength, severed the portion of the tail
coiled round the tree from the rest of the body.
Unknowingly, he had taken the only course to save Ned's life. Had
he, as his first impulse had been, struck at the head as it raised
itself above that of Ned, the convulsion of the rest of the body
would probably have crushed the life out of him; but by cutting off
the tail, he separated the body from the tree which formed the
fulcrum upon which it acted. As swiftly as they had enclosed him
the coils fell from Ned, a writhing mass upon the ground; and a
second blow from Tom's sword severed the head from the body. Even
now, the folds writhed and twisted like an injured worm; but Tom
struck, and struck, until the fragments lay, with only a slight
quivering motion in them, on the ground.
Then Tom, throwing down his cutlass, raised Ned; who, upon being
released from the embrace of the boa, had fallen senseless. Alarmed
as Tom was at his comrade's insensibility, he yet felt that it was
the shock, and the revulsion of feeling which caused it, and not
any serious injury which he had received. No bones had been heard
to crack and, although the compression had been severe, Tom did not
think that any serious injury had been inflicted.
He dashed some water from the skins over Ned's face, rubbed his
hands, spoke to him in a loud voice, and ere long had the
satisfaction of seeing him open his eyes.
"Thank God!" Tom exclaimed fervently. "There, don't move, Ned. Take
it quietly. It's all right now. There, drink a little water."
He poured a few drops down Ned's throat, and the latter, whose eyes
had before had a dazed and wondering expression, suddenly sat up
and strove to draw his sword.
"Gently, Ned, gently. The snake is dead, chopped up into pieces. It
was a near shave, Ned."