IN THE WILDERNESS.
Some days afterwards we found ourselves among the mountains in a region
whose rugged grandeur and semi-desolation, whose rock-filled glens, tall,
frowning precipices, with the stillness that reigned everywhere around,
imparted to it a character approaching even to sublimity.
The _capataz_ was still our guide, our foremost man in everything; but
close beside him rode our indefatigable hunter, Dugald.
We had already seen pumas, and even the terrible jaguar of the plains; we
had killed more than one rhea--the American ostrich--and deer in
abundance. Moreover, Dugald had secured about fifty skins of the most
lovely humming-birds, with many beetles, whose elytra, painted and adorned
by Nature, looked like radiant jewels. All these little skins and beetles
were destined to be sent home to Flora. As yet, however, we had not come
in contact with the guanaco, although some had been seen at a distance.
But to-day we were in the very country of the guanaco, and pressing
onwards and ever upwards, in the hopes of soon being able to draw trigger
on some of these strange inhabitants of the wilderness.
Only this morning Dugald and I had been bantering each other as to who
should shoot the first.
'I mean to send my first skin to Flora,' Dugald had said.
'And I my first skin to Irene,' I said.
On rounding the corner of a cliff we suddenly came in sight of a whole
herd of the creatures, but they were in full retreat up the glen, while
out against the sky stood in bold relief a tall buck. It was the trumpet
tones of his voice ringing out plaintively but musically on the still
mountain air that had warned the herd of our approach.
Another long ride of nearly two hours. And now we must have been many
thousands of feet above the sea level, or even the level of the distant
plains.
It is long past midday, so we determine to halt, for here, pure, bubbling
from a dark green slippery rock, is a spring of water as clear as crystal
and deliciously cool. What a treat for our horses and dogs! What a treat
even for ourselves!
I notice that Dugald seems extra tired. He has done more riding to-day
than any of us, and made many a long _detour_ in search of that guanaco
which he has hitherto failed to find.
A kind of brotherly rivalry takes possession of me, and I cannot help
wishing that the first guanaco would fall to my rifle. The Gauchos are
busy preparing the stew and boiling water for the _mate_, so shouldering
my rifle, and carelessly singing to myself, I leave my companions and
commence sauntering higher up the glen. The hill gets very steep, and I
have almost to climb on my hands and knees, starting sometimes in dread as
a hideous snake goes wriggling past me or raises head and body from behind
a stone, and hisses defiance and hate almost in my face. But I reach the
summit at last, and find myself on the very edge of a precipice.
Oh, joy! On a little peak down beneath, and not a hundred yards away,
stands one of the noblest guanacos I have ever seen. He has heard
something, or scented something, for he stands there as still as a statue,
with head and neck in the air sniffing the breeze.
How my heart beats! How my hand trembles! I cannot understand my anxiety.
Were I face to face with a lion or tiger I could hardly be more nervous. A
thousand thoughts seem to cross my mind with a rush, but uppermost of all
is the fear that, having fired, I shall miss.
He whinnies his warning now: only a low and undecided one. He is evidently
puzzled; but the herd down in the bottom of the canon hear it, and every
head is elevated. I have judged the distance; I have drawn my bead. If my
heart would only keep still, and there were not such a mist before my
eyes! Bang! I have fired, and quickly load again. Have I missed? Yes--no,
no; hurrah! hurrah! yonder he lies, stark and still, on the very rock on
which he stood--my first guanaco!
The startled herd move up the canon. They must have seen their leader
drop.
I am still gazing after them, full of exultation, when a hand is laid on
my shoulder, and, lo! there stands Dugald laughing.
'You sly old dog,' he says, 'to steal a march on your poor little brother
thus!'
For a moment I am startled, mystified.
'Dugald,' I say, 'did I really kill that guanaco?'
'No one else did.'
'And you've only just come--only just this second? Well, I'm glad to hear
it. It was after all a pure accident my shooting the beast. I _did_ hold
the rifle his way. I _did_ draw the trigger----'
'Well, and the bullet did the rest, boy. Funny, you always kill by the
merest chance! Ah, Murdoch, you're a better shot than I am, for all you
won't allow it.'
Wandering still onwards and still upwards next day, through lonely glens
and deep ravines, through canons the sides of which were as perpendicular
as walls, their flat green or brown bottoms sometimes scattered with huge
boulders, casting shadows so dark in the sunlight that a man or horse
disappeared in them as if the earth had opened and swallowed him up, we
came at length to a dell, or strath, of such charming luxuriance that it
looked to us, amid all the barrenness of this dreary wilderness, like an
oasis dropped from the clouds, or some sweet green glade where fairies
might dwell.
I looked at my brother. The same thought must have struck each of us, at
the same moment--Why not make this glen our _habitat_ for a time?
'Oh!' cried Archie, 'this is a paradise!'
'Beautiful! lovely!' said Dugald. 'Suppose now--'
'Oh, I know what you are going to say,' cried Donald.
'And I second the motion,' said Sandie Donaldson.
'Well,' I exclaimed, 'seeing, Sandie, that no motion has yet been made--'
'Here is the motion, then,' exclaimed Dugald, jumping out of his saddle.
It was a motion we all followed at once; and as the day was getting near
its close, the Gauchos set about looking for a bit of camping-ground at
once. As far as comfort was concerned, this might have been chosen almost
anywhere, but we wanted to be near to water. Now here was the mystery: the
glen was not three miles long altogether, and nowhere more than a mile
broad; all along the bottom it was tolerably level and extremely well
wooded with quite a variety of different trees, among which pines, elms,
chestnuts, and stunted oak-trees were most abundant; each side of the glen
was bounded by rising hills or braes covered with algorroba bushes and
patches of charmingly-coloured cacti, with many sorts of prickly shrubs,
the very names of which we could not tell. Curious to say, there was very
little undergrowth; and, although the trees were close enough in some
places to form a jungle, the grass was green beneath. But at first we
could find no water. Leaving the others to rest by the edge of the
miniature forest, Dugald and I and Archie set out to explore, and had not
gone more than a hundred yards when we came to a little lake. We bent
down and tasted the water; it was pure and sweet and cool.
'What a glorious find!' said Dugald. 'Why, this place altogether was
surely made for us.'
We hurried back to tell the news, and the horses and mules were led to the
lake, which was little more than half an acre in extent. But not satisfied
with drinking, most of the dogs plunged in; and horses and mules followed
suit.
'Come,' cried Donald, 'that is a sort of motion I will willingly second.'
He commenced to undress as he spoke. So did we all, and such splashing and
dashing, and laughing and shouting, the birds and beasts in this romantic
dale had surely never witnessed before.
Dugald was an excellent swimmer, and as bold and headstrong in the water
as on the land. He had left us and set out to cross the lake. Suddenly we
saw him throw up his arms and shout for help, and we--Donald and I--at
once commenced swimming to his assistance. He appeared, however, in no
danger of sinking, and, to our surprise, although heading our way all the
time, he was borne away from us one minute and brought near us next.
When close enough a thrill of horror went through me to hear poor Dugald
cry in a feeble, pleading voice,
'Come no nearer, boys: I soon must sink. Save yourselves: I'm in a
whirlpool.'
It was too true, though almost too awful to be borne. I do not know how
Donald felt at that moment, but as for myself I was almost paralyzed with
terror.
'Back, back, for your lives!' shouted a voice behind us.
It was our Gaucho _capataz_. He was coming towards us with powerful
strokes, holding in one hand a lasso. Instead of swimming on with us when
he saw Dugald in danger, he had gone ashore at once and brought the
longest thong.
We white men could have done nothing. We knew of nothing to do. We should
have floated there and seen our dear brother go down before our eyes, or
swam recklessly, madly on, only to sink with him.
Dugald, weak as he had become, sees the Gaucho will make an attempt to
save him, and tries to steady himself to catch the end of the lasso that
now flies in his direction.
But to our horror it falls short, and Dugald is borne away again, the
circles round which he is swept being now narrower.
The Gaucho is nearer. He is perilously near. He will save him or perish.
Again the lasso leaves his hand. Dugald had thrown up his hands and almost
leapt from the water. He is sinking. Oh, good Gaucho! Oh, good _capataz_,
surely Heaven itself directed that aim, for the noose fell over our
brother's arms and tightened round the chest!
In a few minutes more we have laid his lifeless body on the green bank.
Lifeless only for a time, however. Presently he breathes, and we carry him
away into the evening sunshine and place him on the soft warm moss. He
soon speaks, but is very ill and weak; yet our thanks to God for his
preservation are very sincere. Surely there is a Providence around one
even in the wilderness!
We might have explored our glen this same evening, perhaps we really ought
to have done so, but the excitement caused by Dugald's adventure put
everything else out of our heads.
In this high region, the nights were even cold enough to make a position
near the camp fire rather a thing to be desired than otherwise. It was
especially delightful, I thought, on this particular evening to sit around
the fire and quietly talk. I reclined near Dugald, who had not yet quite
recovered. I made a bed for him with extra rugs; and, as he coughed a good
deal, I begged of him to consider himself an invalid for one night at
least; but no sooner had he drunk his mug of _mate_ than he sat up and
joined in the conversation, assuring us he felt as well as ever he had in
his life.
[Illustration: Tries to steady himself to catch the Lasso]
It was a lovely evening. The sky was unclouded, the stars shining out very
clear, and looking very near, while a round moon was rising slowly over
the hill-peaks towards the east, and the tall dark pine-trees were casting
gloomy shadows on the lake, near which, in an open glade, we were
encamped. I could not look at the dark waters without a shudder, as I
thought of the danger poor Dugald had so narrowly escaped. I am not sure
that the boy was not always my mother's favourite, and I know he was
Flora's. How could I have written and told them of his fearful end? The
very idea made me creep nearer to him and put my arm round his shoulder. I
suppose he interpreted my thoughts, for he patted my knee in his brotherly
fond old fashion.
Our Gaucho _capataz_ was just telling a story, an adventure of his own, in
the lonely pampas. He looked a strange and far from comely being, with his
long, straggling, elf-like locks of hair, his low, receding forehead, his
swarthy complexion, and high cheek bones. The mark of a terrible spear
wound across his face and nose did not improve his looks.
'Yes, senors,' he was saying, 'that was a fearful moment for me.' He threw
back his poncho as he spoke, revealing three ugly scars on his chest. 'You
see these, senors? It was that same tiger made the marks. It was a
keepsake, ha! ha! that I will take to de grave with me, if any one should
trouble to bury me. It was towards evening, and we were journeying across
the pampa. We had come far that day, my Indians and me. We felt
tired--sometimes even Indians felt tired on de weary wide pampa. De sun
has been hot all day. We have been chased far by de white settlers. Dey
not love us. Ha! ha! We have five score of de cattle with us. And we have
spilt blood, and left dead and wounded Indians plenty on de pampa. Never
mind, I swear revenge. Oh, I am a bad man den. Gaucho malo, mucho malo,
Nandrin, my brother _cacique_, hate me. I hate him. I wish him dead. But
de Indians love him all de same as me. By and by de sun go down, down,
down, and we raise de _toldo_[14] in de canon near a stream. Here grow
many ombu-trees. The young senors have not seen this great tree; it is de
king of the lonely pampa. Oh, so tall! Oh, so wide! so spreading and
shady! Two, three ombu-trees grow near; but I have seen de great tiger
sleep in one. My brother _cacique_ have seen him too. When de big moon
rise, and all is bright like de day, and no sound make itself heard but de
woo-hoo-woo of de pampa owl, I get quietly up and go to de ombu-tree. I
think myself much more brave as my brother _cacique_. Ha! ha! he think
himself more brave as me. When I come near de ombu-trees I shout. Ugh! de
scream dat comes from de ombu-tree make me shake and shiver. Den de
terrible tiger spring down; I will not run, I am too brave. I shoot. He
not fall. Next moment I am down--on my back I lie. One big foot is on me;
his blood pour over my face. He pull me close and more close to him. Soon,
ah, soon, I think my brother _cacique_ will be chief--I will be no more.
De tiger licks my arm--my cheek. How he growl and froth! He is now going
to eat me. But no! Ha! ha! my brother _cacique_ have also leave de camp to
come to de ombu-tree. De tiger see him. P'r'aps he suppose his blood more
sweet as mine. He leave poor me. Ha! ha! he catch my brother _cacique_ and
carry him under de shade of de ombu-tree. By and by I listen, and hear my
brother's bones go crash! crash! crash! De tiger is enjoying his supper!'
'But, _capataz_,' I said, with a shudder, 'did you make no attempt to save
your brother chief?'
'Not much! You see, he all same as dead. Suppose I den shoot, p'r'aps I
kill him for true; 'sides, I bad Gaucho den; not love anybody mooch. Next
day I kill dat tiger proper, and his skin make good ponchos. Ha! ha!'
Many a time during the Gaucho's recital he had paused and looked uneasily
around him, for ever and anon the woods re-echoed with strange cries. We
white men had not lived long enough in beast-haunted wildernesses to
distinguish what those sounds were, whether they proceeded from bird or
beast.
As the _capataz_ stopped speaking, and we all sat silent for a short time,
the cries were redoubled. They certainly were not calculated to raise our
spirits: some were wild and unearthly in the extreme, some were growls of
evident anger, some mere groanings, as if they proceeded from creatures
dying in pain and torment, while others again began in a low and most
mournful moan, rising quickly into a hideous, frightened, broken, or
gurgling yell, then dying away again in dreary cadence.
I could not help shuddering a little as I looked behind me into the
darkness of the forest. The whole place had an uncanny, haunted sort of
look, and I even began to wonder whether we might not possibly be the
victims of enchantment. Would we awaken in the morning and find no trees,
no wood, no water, only a green canon, with cliffs and hills on every
side?
'Look, look!' I cried, starting half up at last. 'Did none of you see
that?'
'What is it? Speak, Murdoch!' cried Archie; 'your face is enough to
frighten a fellow.'
I pressed my hand to my forehead.
'Surely,' I said, 'I am going to be ill, but I thought I could distinctly
see a tall grey figure standing among the trees.'
We resumed talking, but in a lower, quieter key. The events of the
evening, our strange surroundings, the whispering trees, the occasional
strange cries, and the mournful beauty of the night, seemed to have cast a
glamour over every heart that was here; and though it was now long past
our usual hour for bed, no one appeared wishful to retire.
All at once Archie grasped me by the shoulder and glanced fearfully into
the forest behind me. I dared scarcely turn my head till the click of
Yambo's revolver reassured me.
Yes, there was the figure in grey moving silently towards us.
'Speak, quick, else I fire!' shouted our _capataz_.
'_Ave Maria!_'
Yambo lowered the revolver, and we all started to our feet to confront the
figure in grey.
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[14] Toldo = a tent.