tree-tops. All at once an object arrested them. It was a patch of
bright rose-coloured foliage, easily distinguishable amid the green
leaves that surrounded it. It was not down in the Montana--for that is
a thousand feet below us. It was upon the side of the Sierra. My eyes
glanced quickly around. I beheld other patches of similar foliage, some
of them nearly an acre in breadth. My heart again leaped with joy. I
knew well what these red spots of the forest were. They were clumps of
_cinchona_ trees--those trees that yield the celebrated febrifuge--the
Peruvian bark!
"New ideas passed rapidly through my mind. `Our fortune is gone,'
thought I. `Here is a fortune in those valuable trees. Here is a mine
that only requires to be worked. I shall turn _cascarillero_--I shall
be a _bark-hunter_.'
"At first I thought that we might gather the bark, and send Guapo to
sell it in the towns of the Sierra. Then the idea came into my mind
that it might be possible to collect an immense quantity, store it up,
build a great raft, float it down the rivers, and dispose of it in Para.
I knew that in this way it would more than quadruple its price--for the
traders of the Sierra purchase it from the poor cascarilleros, and have
enormous profits upon it from the larger merchants.
"But how to live while making this store? Yes, how to live even on the
morrow? Could we support ourselves by hunting, or find sustenance from
fruits and roots, as you have suggested? This was the most important
question of all, for our present necessities far outweighed our future
prospects.
"The very thought of our necessity caused me once more to glance over
the forest, and I continued to scan it on all sides. My eye was again
arrested, and fixed upon a point where I saw there existed a different
vegetation from any that could be seen elsewhere. There is a small
valley about five hundred feet below us. It is a sort of table valley,
and the stream along which we have been travelling runs through it,
afterwards dashing over a fall to join the river below. In this valley
I saw huge broad leaves of a brilliant yellowish green. I knew them at
once to be the leaves of the great _musaceae_, either plantains or
bananas. I thought, too, I could distinguish the form of the _yucca_
plant. These are the certain signs of some settlement, or where one has
existed. I fancy the latter is the correct idea, as I could distinguish
neither house nor smoke. It may be some deserted Indian `chacra,' or it
may be the grounds of an old mission. In either case, we shall be
likely to find those useful plants from which we may obtain food."
"Oh, papa! mamma!" cried Leon, running up and interrupting the
conversation. "See what is here among the trees! I declare it is a
great cross!"
Don Pablo and Isidora walked toward the spot. There, sure enough, was a
large wooden cross planted in the ground, and leaning to one side. The
wood was much decayed, but the inscription that had been deeply cut in
the transverse beam was still legible. It was simply the Spanish
phrase:--
"Brazos de Dios" (The arm of God).
Isidora took Don Pablo by the hand, and looking steadfastly in his face,
pointed to the inscription.
"It _is_ true," said she, "God protects us!"
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
THE DESERTED MISSION.
That night all went to rest with hope in their hearts, though still not
without some anxiety.
If you reflect upon the situation in which they were placed, you will
not wonder that they were anxious about the future. Their first care
had been to fly into the wilderness, without thinking upon the
necessities they might encounter there--without reflecting that they had
made no provision of food to sustain them. It is true that in the great
Montana there are many plants and trees whose roots and fruits can be
eaten; but a traveller may go for days without finding one of these.
Indeed, to pass through this great forest, in most places, is
impossible, so completely are the creeping parasites matted and laced
together. It is necessary to keep along the rivers in a canoe or raft,
else you cannot get from place to place. You cannot even walk along the
banks of many of these rivers, as the underwood hangs into the very
water! For the same reason game is hard to be procured, and neither Don
Pablo nor Guapo were provided with proper weapons to hunt with. Don
Pablo's pistols were all the fire-arms they had, and Guapo had no other
weapon than his machete. With their present means, then, there was very
little chance of their killing any game, even should they have fallen in
with it. But they saw none as yet, except some birds, such as parrots,
macaws, and toucans, that fluttered among the leaves. No wonder, then,
they were anxious about what they should find to eat, or whether they
should find anything at all.
Don Pablo considered the cross a good omen, or rather a good _sign_.
Some missionary must have planted it in years gone by. No doubt a
missionary station must have been near; and it was highly probable that
what he had seen in the little valley below would turn out to be the
very place where it had stood.
As soon as it became day, therefore, Don Pablo again ascended the tree
to take the bearings of the valley, so that they should proceed towards
it. Guapo also climbed up, so that both might make sure of the route
they ought to take--for in the tangled forests of South America it is no
easy matter to reach any object, which you may have only seen at a
distance from the top of a tree. Without a compass, the traveller soon
loses his direction; and, after hours of vain exertion and devious
wandering, often finds himself at the very place from which he had
started.
After carefully noting the direction of the valley, Don Pablo and Guapo
came down from the tree; and while the former, assisted by Leon, packed
and saddled the animals, Guapo was busy with his machete in clearing
away the brush-wood that obstructed the path. This did not turn out
such a task after all. It was only at the brow of the ridge, where the
undergrowth had choked up the way. A little farther down it was quite
passable, and the party, animals and all, were soon winding down the
Sierra towards the valley. Half-an-hour's travelling brought them to
their destination; and then a shout of joy, coming simultaneously from
all of them, announced their arrival upon the spot.
What was it that caused them to utter this shout of joy? Before them
towered the great _musaceae_--plantains and bananas (_Musa paradisiaca_
and _Sapientum_). There were both: their broad yellow-green and
wax-like leaves sheathing their succulent stems, and bending gracefully
over to a length of twenty feet. But beautiful as were the leaves of
these giant plants, more attractive still to the eyes of our travellers
were the huge clusters of fruit-pods that hung from beneath them. Each
of these would have weighed nearly an hundred-weight! There was food
for hundreds. These plants grew by the water's edge, in a damp soil--
their natural habitat. Their leaves drooped over the stream. Another
plant, equally interesting, was seen farther back, in a dry place.
There were many of these ten or fifteen feet high, and as thick as a
man's wrist. This was the _yucca_ plant (_Jatropha manihot_). All of
them knew it. They knew that its roots produced the far-famed cassava.
Cassava is bread. Hurrah! the staff of life was secure!
But, more than this, there were fruits in abundance: there were mangoes
and guavas, oranges and the celebrated cherimoya--the favourite of Peru.
There were shaddocks and sweet limes; and see! yonder is a clump of
sugar-canes, with their thin silken leaves and yellow tassels waving in
the wind. Oh, look here! Here is a coffee-shrub, with its ripe,
aromatic berries; and here is the cacao-tree (_Theobroma cacao_).
Coffee and chocolate--there was a choice of beverages! Ha! what have we
here--this plant like an orange-tree? It is a species of holly. As I
live, it is the _yerba mate_, the "Paraguay tea" (_Ilex Paraguensis_).
What shall we light upon next?
And so the delighted travellers went on, over the ground, through the
thick-tangled weeds and convolvuli, making new discoveries at every
step. Even Guapo's favourite, the coca-shrub, was found growing among
the rest, and the eyes of the old Indian sparkled at the sight of it.
Don Pablo's first conjecture had been right. They had arrived at the
ruin of some old missionary station, long since deserted. Some zealous
monk had planted all these plants and trees; had for years, no doubt,
tended them with care; had dreamt of establishing around this lonely
spot a great hierarchy, and making the "wilderness blossom as the rose."
An evil day had come--perhaps during the revolt of Juan Santos, or
maybe in the later revolution of Tupac Amaru. The hand of the savage
had been turned against the priest, who had fallen a victim, and his
roof--the mission-house--had been given to the flames. Not a vestige of
building was to be seen--neither stick nor stone--and had it not been
for the curious variety of vegetation collected on the spot, this once
cultivated and flourishing garden might have been taken for part of the
primeval forest.
It must have been a long time since the place was inhabited, for great
trees and parasites had grown up in the midst of the cultivated plants.
After the first transports of delight had to some extent subsided, a
consultation was held as to future proceedings. They were not long in
coming to a conclusion. It was resolved that a house should be built in
the middle of this wild garden, which should be, for a time at least,
their home.
The poor llamas had made their last journey. They were to be killed.
Guapo, although reluctant to part with his old favourites, knew that
they could not live in the warm climate of the valley, and therefore
consented. Their flesh, it is true, is none of the best, but it would
taste the better that no other was to be had; and their wool and skins
would be found useful. The llamas were killed.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
THE GUACO AND THE CORAL SNAKE.
It was Guapo himself that killed the llamas, and, having skinned them,
he cut the flesh into thin strips, and hung it upon the branches to dry
in the sun. This, of course, was necessary, as they had no salt to cure
it with; but meat well dried under a hot sun will keep good for a long
time. It is curious, that in all Spanish-American countries they
preserve most of their meat in this way, whereas in North America, among
the people of our own race, "jerked beef" (for that is the name we give
it) is very rare. Now, in Spanish America there are vast depositories
of salt--both in mines and on plains, with salt lakes--called _salinas_;
yet, for want of a proper commercial activity existing among these
people, in many places the valuable article, salt, is both scarce and
dear. In Mexico dried or "jerked" beef is called "tasajo." In Peru, as
we have stated, it is "charqui;" but mutton cured in this way is
distinguished by the name "chalona." Now as the llamas are a species of
sheep, it was "chalona" that Guapo was making out of their mutton.
The others were not idle; Don Pablo, assisted by Leon, was clearing a
place on which they intended to build the house, while the Dona Isidora,
with her soft slender fingers (for the first time in her life, perhaps),
was acting as laundress, and the little Leona assisted her as much as
she was able. Where did they get their soap, for they had not brought
so much as a single cake along with them? But Don Pablo was too good a
botanist not to know the nature of the trees that grew around, and the
uses to which they could be applied. Near by grew a curious tree, which
is known among the Indians as the _parapara_. It was the soap-berry of
botanists (_Sapindus saponaria_), and Don Pablo knew that the bark of
the berries, when rubbed, produces a lather that will wash linen equal
to the best "Castile." Dona Isidora was not long in making a trial of
it, and found this to be true. The little round stones of the berries,
when cleared of the pulp, are very pretty, and are much used by the
missionaries in making rosaries. Leon found, dropping one of them on a
stone, that it was as elastic as a ball of India rubber, for it
rebounded several times to the height of a man's head! In the evening
they all rested from their various occupations, and seated themselves
upon the new-cleared ground, upon the trunk of a tree that had been
felled. They were one and all quite cheerful. They felt no more
apprehension of pursuit. It would have been a very revengeful enemy,
indeed, who would have followed them so far into the wilderness. They
had no fear of that. Dona Isidora had just cooked a kettle of coffee--
they had both pots and kettles, for these were some of the utensils with
which Guapo, even in the hurry of flight, had taken the precaution to
load his llamas. This coffee turned out to be of the finest quality.
It was of a peculiar species, which has long been cultivated by the
missionaries of Peru, and which yields a very high price. It used to be
sent by the viceroys as a valued present to the kings of Spain. To
sweeten the coffee some joints of sugar-cane had been crushed, and
boiled in a rough manner; and for bread they had roasted plantains.
During the repast they were all quite merry, and pleasant jokes were
passed for the first time in many days.
While thus engaged a singular sound fell upon their ears. It was like a
voice repeating the word "Guaco!" They all listened. "Guaco--Guaco!"
again came the voice.
"Hola!" cried Leon, "Guapo--Guapo! there's some one calling you, Guapo.
There again!--no--it's `Guaco'--listen! `Guaco--Guaco!' What is it, I
wonder?"
"That's the snake-bird," quietly answered Guapo, who, it must be
remembered, was a native of the Montana, and knew a great deal both
about the birds and beasts of these regions.
"The snake-bird?" exclaimed Leon, evidently interested in the name.
"Yes, young master!" replied Guapo; "look! yonder it goes!"
The eyes of all were instantly turned in the direction pointed out by
Guapo. There sure enough was a bird, not much larger than a common
pigeon, but which had all the appearance of a sparrow-hawk. It was
"swallow-tailed," however, and this, with its peculiar form and the
manner of its flight, showed that it was one of the kite-hawks. When
first noticed, it was perched upon the top of a high tree, but it soon
flew to another not so high, uttering as it went, the "Guaco--Guaco!"
It then pitched itself to a still lower branch, and was evidently after
something which none of the party could see. That something, however,
soon became apparent. The ground had been cleared in a broad track down
to the water's edge, and near the middle of the open space an object was
observed in motion, making towards the weeds. That object was a snake.
It was not a large one--not more than three feet in length--and its
beautiful body, variegated with bands of black, red, and bright yellow,
glistened as it moved. Its predominating colour was a fleshy red, or
coral, from whence it has its name, for both Don Pablo and Guapo, as
soon as they saw it, pronounced it the "coral snake." Beautiful as it
appeared, all knew that it was one of the most poisonous of serpents--
one of the most dreaded of South American reptiles.
The first thought of Guapo and Leon was to spring up, seize upon some
weapon, and kill the creature. Don Pablo, however, restrained them.
"Stay where you are," said he; "be patient; we shall have a scene. Look
at the hawk,--see!"
As Don Pablo spoke, the guaco, which had hopped down to the lowest
branches of a neighbouring tree, swooped suddenly at the snake,
evidently aiming to clutch it around the neck. The latter, however, had
been too quick, and coiling itself, like a flash of lightning darted its
head out towards the bird in a threatening manner. Its eyes sparkled
with rage, and their fiery glitter could be seen even at many yards
distance.
The bird diverged from its course, and after passing the snake, turned
and swooped again from the opposite direction. But the reptile had
shifted its body so as to meet the attack, and its threatening head once
more was reared high above its coiled body. The guaco was foiled a
second time.
This second failure seemed to enrage the bird, as it turned at shorter
intervals, and apparently losing all fear, fluttered over the reptile,
striking both with beak and claws. The latter still kept in its coil,
but its head moved hastily from side to side, so as always to "show
front" to its active antagonist.
After this play had continued for some time, the snake was seen to draw
in its head farther than usual, and the hawk, evidently somewhat off his
guard, deeming this a fair opportunity, pounced forward to seize it.
But he was met half way. The head of the serpent shot forward like a
rapier, and reached his breast. The hawk felt that he was wounded; and
uttering a wild scream, he flew suddenly away.
All eyes watched him as he flew off, expecting that he would fall--for
the bite of the coral snake will kill even a man in a few minutes, and a
bird or small animal in much less time. It is not correct to say that
all of them expected to see him fall. Guapo, from experience, knew
better, and even Don Pablo, as a naturalist, had heard a strange account
of this singular bird, and was curious to witness the result. The hawk,
therefore, was narrowly watched.
It flew directly for a tree, up against the trunk of which, and clinging
to its branches, grew a parasite or creeping plant. The latter was of
the thickness of a willow rod, with long slender leaves, of a dark green
colour. The bird did not alight upon the top of the tree, but on a
branch where it could reach the leaves of the creeper, which it began
immediately to pluck and devour. In a short while it had eaten as many
as a dozen of these long leaves, when it again took to wing, and flew
back in the direction of the snake.
All had, for the moment, forgotten the snake, in their eagerness to
watch the movements of the bird. To their astonishment the reptile was
still in the same place, and coiled up as when last seen. This was
easily explained, however, as snakes who defend themselves in that
attitude usually remain coiled, until they are certain that their enemy
has gone away and will not return to the attack.
The contest was now renewed with redoubled fury. The bird fought with
fresh courage, knowing that he had taken precautions against a fatal
result, while the snake defended itself with the energy of despair.
This time the battle was a short one. The guaco, using its wings,
succeeded in striking its antagonist upon the upraised head, and quickly
following up the blow, planted his talons so as to encircle the throat
of his victim. The effect of his gripe was instantly apparent. The
reptile unfolded itself, and the slender coral body was seen writhing
and twisting along the ground. But it did not remain long upon the
ground, for in a few moments the guaco rose into the air, and carried
the struggling victim into the woods to devour it at his leisure.
Now Guapo was exceedingly pleased at what had occurred. Why? It was
not because such a scene was at all new to him. No; he had often
witnessed such, and was no longer curious upon that head. It was
something more than mere curiosity that moved Guapo. When the affair
was over, he rose from his seat, and stalking off to the place where the
bird had been seen to eat the leaves, he gathered a quantity of them,
and then returned to the fire. Don Pablo recognised them as the leaves
of a plant of the genus _Mikania_, and known popularly as the "vejuco de
guaco." Guapo knew nothing of the scientific designation of the plant,
but he had long ago been taught the valuable properties of its leaves as
an antidote against the bite of the most poisonous snakes. He had known
them to cure the bite of the cascabel (_rattle-snake_), and even of the
small spotted viper (_Echidna ocellata_), the most poisonous of all the
American snakes.
What, then, did Guapo with the leaves of the vejuco? First, he chopped
them up as fine as he could, and then, tying them tightly in a piece of
cotton cloth, he expressed from them a quantity of juice--enough for his
purpose. That done, with the point of a knife he made small incisions
between his toes, and also upon his breast and fingers. Into each of
these incisions, even while the blood was flowing from them, he dropped
the juice of the Mikania, and rubbed it in with fresh leaves of the
plant itself; and then, with some tufts of the soft floss of the
silk-cotton tree (_Bombax ceiba_), he covered the incisions, so as to
stop the bleeding. He wound up this strange performance, by chewing
some of the leaves, and swallowing about a spoonful of the juice. This
made the "inoculation" complete, and Guapo, as he himself declared, was
now invulnerable to the bite of the most venomous serpent!
He offered to "inoculate" the others in the same way. They at first
refused--Don Pablo among the rest--but after a day or two, when each of
the party had met with several narrow escapes from vipers, coral snakes,
and the much-dreaded "jararaca" (_craspedo-cephalus_), Don Pablo thought
it prudent that all should submit to the operation, and accordingly
Guapo "doctored" the party without more ado.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
THE PALM-WOODS.
It happened, that upon the opposite side of the stream there was a broad
track covered with palm-trees, while not one was to be seen on that side
where they intended building their house. As these are the most
convenient trees for constructing a house to suit the hot climate of the
Montana, it appeared necessary that they should use them. But how were
they to get at them? The stream flowed between them and the camp; and
although not a large river, yet at that place it was very wide and deep,
for in the flat table valley it expanded to the dimensions of a little
lake. Below, where it issued out of the valley, it ran for some
distance in a deep cleft between rocky banks almost or quite
perpendicular, and above the valley it came dashing through an
impassable ravine. If they could only get over to cut the palms, they
knew they could roll them to the bank, and float them across the stretch
of still water. But how to get over required some consideration. Guapo
could swim like a water-dog, but Don Pablo could not; and Leon, having
been brought up as a town boy, had had but little practice, and
consequently was but a poor swimmer. What, then, was to be done, as
Guapo could not well manage the palms without help?
After examining the stream, both above and below, no crossing place
could be found, but just at the point where it ran out of the valley,
the space between the high banks was very narrow. A good long plank
would have reached across it--had they only had one--but that they had
not. Now, upon the opposite bank there grew a tall tree. It was one of
the beautiful silk-cotton trees already mentioned. It stood upon the
very edge of the chasm. Both Don Pablo and Guapo saw at a glance that
this tree could be felled, and made to fall across the stream, so as to
form the very bridge they wanted.
Not much time was lost about it. Guapo, tying his axe upon his
shoulders, ran up the near side, until he was opposite the still running
water; and then plunging in, swam across in a few seconds. He soon
after appeared on the opposite bank, at the root of the bombax, which he
attacked in such a manner that one who did not know what he was about
might have fancied he was angry at it. In a few minutes a great notch
appeared in the side of the tree, and Guapo continuing his sturdy blows,
made the yellow chips fly out in showers. Of course the notch was cut
on the side next the stream, so that the tree would fall in that
direction. The beaver understands that much, and Guapo had considerably
more intelligence than any beaver.
In about half-an-hour the bombax began to creak and lean a little. Then
Don Pablo threw over a lasso, which had been brought along. Guapo
noosed one end over a high limb, and tying a stone to the other, pitched
it back to Don Pablo, who hauled it taut. Then a few cuts of the axe
broke the skin of the tree on the other side, Don Pablo pulled by the
rope, and with a loud tear and a crash, and a vast deal of crackling
among the branches, the great bombax settled into a horizontal position
across the chasm. The bridge was built.