Isthmians within the Colombian Union, General Herran gave no evidence
of any disastrous effect on his own fortunes following his memorable
experience of Panama diplomacy. The center of a convivial group of
admiring friends, flanked by an inexhaustible supply of "La Cosa
Sabrosa,"--the suggestive title given by one enthusiast to the native
rum which accompanied them in an endless array of demijohns--this
excellent leader of armies appeared to be making a triumphal progress
homeward, rather than a decidedly ignominious retreat. His large
mirthful brown eyes, peering out of a boyish face fringed by a heavy
black beard, were undimmed by regrets and gave no token of the wily,
self-seeking politician their possessor was said, by his enemies, to be.
"El General," as he was usually called, was, in fact, the best of good
fellows; one who, we can well imagine, might easily forget so paltry an
adjunct as his troops, lured by the promise of a lively hour or so in
a gay city with congenial companions. "Bobo" his detractors might call
him, or "tonto"--but never "pendejo" nor "traidor."
With General Herran on board the "Barcelona," although not exactly of
his party, and certainly not in the least of the military persuasion,
was a round-paunched, bullet-headed little man who, arrayed in the
flimsiest of apparel, a wide-flapping Panama sombrero coming down to
his ears, paced restlessly about the deck, fanning himself vigorously
with a huge palm-leaf fan. Although of pure Spanish lineage, there was
nothing of the traditional polish of his race in this explosive person's
manner or speech. He had rolled about--one can hardly describe his
mode of travel by another phrase--among many people and had recently
settled down in a delightfully fever-ridden section of Colombia to
practice medicine. "Doctor Quinine" he was called--behind his back--and
it is said that he had simplified the methods of his profession by
administering, on all occasions and for all diseases, the one simple,
famous drug, discovered centuries ago by his ancestors in his native
Peru. Quinine and a few drastic purgatives summed up his medical creed.
If these remedies failed to cure--and they sometimes did fail--why, the
unfortunate victim was simply a "canaille," and had, through his own
stupidity, or malice, defeated the otherwise infallible result of the
doctor's treatment.
The quininizing of the human race, however, was not the mission upon
which Dr. Manuel Valiente Miranda had at present embarked. He had
recently made a journey to the United States, whither he had gone
to take out a patent on some marvelous "pildoras de quinina" of his
own concoction. Having succeeded in the main object of his trip, and
having failed incidentally to sell a single box of these same patented
"pildoras" to any one of the benighted thousands whose faith was pinned
to the ordinary medical practitioner, he had resolved to return to his
old occupation of dosing with quinine the faithful on the Colombian
coast. On his homeward journey, however, he met a party of Americans
who induced him to abandon for a time his original project and to join
them in a trip to Bogota. As he was a man of independent means, a
political exile from his native land, with no family ties whatsoever,
there was nothing to hinder this sudden change in his plans. Hence his
presence on the "Barcelona," where he had assumed guardianship over his
American friends--whom he abused on occasion, as was his wont with those
he liked--and where he engaged in sarcastic tilts with his old ally "El
General."
In the political upheaval caused by the secession of Panama Doctor
Miranda took especial delight; nor did he hesitate to upbraid those
in authority for what he called their lack of gumption in the present
situation. He predicted, moreover, the coming supremacy of "los Yankees"
in South America. In all of this Doctor Miranda was good naturedly
tolerated by his Colombian friends, who suffered his sarcasm much as
they did his quinine, ignoring the bitterness out of regard for the
curative virtue behind it.
Harold and Una Leighton, David Meudon, Andrew Parmelee and Mrs. Quayle
were the Americans to whom Doctor Miranda had attached himself on
this pilgrimage to Bogota. It was an oddly assorted party. That the
persons composing it should be voyaging together up the Magdalena,
with an eccentric Peruvian physician as a sort of cicerone, and in
friendly intimacy with a group of discredited army officers accused of
a traitorous abandonment of the national cause, formed one of those
curious situations not unusual in South American travel.
The reader has already learned of the decision reached by Harold
Leighton and David to visit Bogota in order to solve there the mystery
of the three months following the dynamite explosion in the Guatavita
tunnel. As her uncle had foreseen, Una insisted on going with them, and
had brought Mrs. Quayle along besides. There was no particular reason
why that estimable lady should accompany them. She had rarely ventured
beyond the borders of her native Connecticut, and could certainly be
of no possible use on so long and difficult a journey as this. But
something had to be done with her. She was afraid to be left alone at
Stoneleigh, and as she was anxious about Una it seemed best on the whole
to take her along. She proved an inoffensive traveler and gave amusement
to more than one tourist by her extraordinary costumes, especially the
massive, old-fashioned jewelry, with which her hands and neck were
covered and from which she refused ever to be parted.
The trip was a hard one for Leighton, who was wedded to his quiet
methodical life in Rysdale, and who had no mind for the distractions
and annoyances of foreign travel. He was spurred to activity, however,
by his interest in the psychological puzzle presented by David, added
to which was a growing curiosity regarding the mysterious Indian lake
and its reputed treasure. An ordinary mining scheme, no matter how
promising, would not have moved the philosophic master of Stoneleigh.
But here was something out of which might come a fine scientific
discovery revealing the secrets of a bygone civilization. Hence, he had
not regretted his resolution to make this quixotic pilgrimage and, as
he had latterly fallen into a sort of dependence on Andrew Parmelee for
much of the detail work connected with his scientific studies, he had
arranged with the village authorities for the schoolmaster to accompany
him to Colombia.
Andrew was not a little alarmed at the intimate daily association with
Una, the object of his adoration, which such a journey involved. But
the fancied terrors of the situation had their compensations. It might
even happen that in the primitive region to which they were going he
could be of vital service to this stony-hearted fair one--a possibility
that filled him with dreams of deadly peril by land and sea in which
he acted the part of rescuer to helpless innocence. So, this modern
knight errant was miraculously strengthened to ward off the attacks of
his Aunt Hepzibah, and departed on his mission fired with all the zeal
of the hero of La Mancha, his high resolve unclouded by the horrors
that speedily came to him in the rotund nightmare known in the flesh as
Doctor Miranda.
"Ah, this little Yankee," repeatedly declared that restless follower of
Aesculapius, regarding the bewildered Andrew with professional glee; "he
must take my pills or he will die!"
Then, Andrew, helplessly declaring that he never felt better in his
life, would be seized by the merciless doctor, his eyelids forced apart
until the whites of the eyes were fully exposed to whoever cared to
inspect them, while a triumphant announcement marked the success of the
dismal exhibit: "See! it is all yellow! This leetle fellow have the
malaria, the calentura. And he refuse to take my pills--the estupido!"
But if Andrew was disturbed by these alarming outbreaks of the doctor,
his companions enjoyed to the full that mental and physical relaxation
experienced by many only in the tropics. An endless panorama of
primeval forest, broken at intervals by clusters of wattled Indian huts,
known as villages, with high-sounding names, to the Magdalena boatmen,
gave to the long river journey the pleasant surprises of some half
remembered dream. There was the charm of the familiar as well as the
picturesque in the drowsy air, the swift oily flow of turbid waters, the
flashing green, gold and scarlet of the riotous shore. Merely to feel,
if only for a day, the changing moods of this tropical nature, more than
repaid, one felt, all the hardships and weariness of primitive travel.
For Una and David all this formed a memorable interlude in their
mutual experiences. Even the complex mission upon which the girl had
entered was forgotten in the novelty of the world to which chance had
brought her. The scenic splendor of the river exceeded anything she had
imagined. She was fascinated by the wide sweep of water, the foliage,
the glorious passion-flowers that embroidered, here and there, the thick
mantle of green vines and swaying lianas that bound the treetops to the
river beneath; by the flocks of parrots, glistening like living emeralds
in the sun-bathed air, chattering their language of wild happiness as
they flew from branch to branch on the silent shore. Never had she
beheld such serene, graceful creatures as the swans--she took them
for swans, although Leighton chuckled grimly when appealed to on the
subject--great, long-necked birds, wheeling and soaring far above the
steamer, clouds of shimmering white in a sea of purest sapphire. White,
too with head and neck a brilliant scarlet, was the stately King of the
Vultures, surrounded by a fluttering throng of dusky followers, dining
on a dead alligator.
"See, Senorita!" exclaimed Miranda, pointing to a bowerlike opening
amid the bushes and trees on the shore. "Ah, he is one bad fellow, that
canaille!"
"I see nothing. Oh, yes--another dead alligator!"
"Dead!" laughed the doctor. "He is just one trap. Soon he come
together--so!--and catch his dinner."
It was a familiar scene on this river of the tropics: an alligator
lying motionless on the shore, his yellow, mottled jaws open, waiting
for his prey. In form and color he seemed a part of the dead branches
and tangle of brushwood he had chosen for his resting place. Once
recognized, however, and the malignant creature became a vivid symbol of
the ruthless death with which he threatened whoever mistook his yawning
mouth for a rift in a fallen tree-trunk.
"What a monster!" exclaimed David, roused from his daylong dreams.
"Estupido!" retorted Miranda. "He wait for his dinner--as you and
I--that is all. The so cruel alligator, you know, is good mother for the
young ones. She love them better than some womens."
"That hideous brute!"
"Si, Senor!" declared the doctor. "So soon that they hatch themselves,
she carry the young ones in the mouth and teach them to hunt. She fight
for them and die, if it be so."
Miranda's vague natural history was of the kind derived from
wonder-loving natives. It blended well with the Magdalena's scenic
marvels, the wild animal life, glimpses of which were caught at every
hand, the dark-skinned natives in their rude dugouts--all that set this
apart as a sort of primeval world far removed from any hint of the
modern. But the skepticism of the scientist was proof against idle
tales.
"I am not sure that your theory of the alligator is correct, Senor
Doctor," remarked Leighton dryly.
"Ah, carai!" spluttered Miranda, wheeling about, ever ready for the
fray.
"What you say about the care of the female alligator for her young may
be true enough," said the savant, ignoring the scowl with which he was
regarded; "but that the brute over there in the bushes is holding his
mouth open by the hour in that ridiculous fashion, hoping that something
may walk into it, is unreasonable."
"Then, what for she do it?" demanded the doctor severely.
"I can't tell you that," admitted Leighton, adding, with a touch of
humor, "perhaps he finds it comfortable on a hot day like this to get as
much air as he can. Of course, I have no doubt that he would close his
mouth quickly enough if any creature walked into it."
"I agree with Mr. Leighton," ventured the schoolmaster.
"Ah!" sniffed the doctor scornfully. "And you, Senorita?"
"Why," said Una doubtfully, enjoying the doctor's wrath, "he certainly
does look hungry, doesn't he? I wouldn't trust him--although he seems to
be asleep."
"And you, Senor?" glaring at David.
"Oh, I'm not a naturalist," he laughed. "But, he looks like a pretty
good sort of trap, just the same."
"Bueno, General, what sayest thou?" asked the doctor somewhat
mollified. "What is that cayman doing there under the trees?"
General Herran gazed meditatively at the monster who was unconsciously
causing this pother in natural history, and his eyes had a reminiscent
twinkle as he answered the question:
"That cayman with his mouth open is like the Yankee waiting for Colombia
to walk in."
"And you walked in!" shouted Miranda delightedly.
"Well, I walked out again," said the other complacently.
"But you left Panama inside the mouth!"
"Have your joke, Senor Doctor," said Herran, not relishing the broad
allusion to his discomfiture. "But perhaps your American friends here
will find a cayman in the bushes. Why do they go to Bogota just now?"
"They are friends to you. With you it is all right."
"I hear that the peons are rising against the Yankees."
"The canaille! They can do nothing."
"Besides," pursued the general, "excellent and harmless as this
learned Senor and his family are, I can hardly appear, under all the
circumstances, as protector and champion of a party of Americans."
General Herran spoke in so rapid an undertone that only one to whom
Spanish is the native tongue could have followed him. But Leighton's
keen intelligence, although he was not well versed in Spanish idioms,
was quick to catch at least an inkling of what was passing between his
two companions.
"There is danger for Americans traveling in the interior?" he asked.
"I not say so," replied the doctor stoutly.
Herran tugged at the tangles of his bushy beard. "I hear that some peons
have left Bogota to fight the Yankees on the coast," he said. "But--it
is nothing."
"Well, what shall we do?"
The general shrugged his shoulders. Miranda fanned himself more
vigorously than ever.
"It is not important, Senor," he said impatiently. "These people are
good peoples; they are not caymans."
"Perhaps it is better to wait before you go to Bogota," persisted
Herran.
"Wait in the river?" angrily demanded the doctor.
"I don't believe there is any danger. I love this country," said Una.
"Let's go to Bogota, Uncle Harold."
"Heavens, child!" exclaimed Mrs. Quayle tremulously, the heavy gold
rings that adorned her fingers clicking together in dismay. "With
all these savage, half-dressed natives about, threatening the lives
of innocent Americans--and poor Mr. Parmelee down with this terrible
fever----"
"I am not," feebly protested Andrew.
"Yes, that is so!" exclaimed the doctor, a joyous grin wrinkling his
face. "The vieja (old lady) speak right. We stay at Honda and give this
little fellow my pills."
"There is sense in your plan," declared Leighton. "If we can be
comfortable--and safe--at Honda, we will stay until we know what is
happening away from the river, and until Mr. Parmelee regains his health
under your treatment."
"My dear Mr. Leighton, I assure you,----" began the schoolmaster
piteously.
"Don't be an estolido!" interrupted Miranda bruskly. "Soon you will be
all right with my pills. This little vieja, she know--she is very wise."
Mrs. Quayle's gray ringlets bobbed deprecatingly at this generous
tribute to a hitherto unsuspected sagacity on the part of their modest
owner, while Andrew looked more uncomfortable and woebegone than ever.
"Doctor, you are sure that Mr. Parmelee has this miserable fever?"
inquired Una anxiously.
"Senorita," declared the little man, drawing himself up impressively, "I
never mistake. I have been doctor when thousand and thousand die of the
calentura----"
"Good heavens! Poor, dear Mr. Parmelee!" murmured Mrs. Quayle.
"And I know," continued Miranda, ignoring the interruption. "I say he
have the calentura, the malaria. You will see in the eyes--I will show
to you."
Andrew, prepared for what was coming, eluded his medical tormentor,
seeking safety behind the chair of the portly Leighton.
"Caramba! que estupido!" growled the doctor, balked of his prey.
"Bueno," he added, fanning himself resignedly, "we shall see. In Honda
you take my pills. Soon we will be there. And then it is good that
everyone take my pills. I am friend to you. I will take the care, I
charge nothing for the family."
"I'll not stay in Honda," said David, breaking the silence following
this wholesale offer of assistance. "I must get to Bogota as quickly as
possible. Once there I can let you know if it's safe to travel into the
interior."
"A good idea," assented Leighton.
"If it's dangerous for us, it's dangerous for you," objected Una.
"Oh, I'll take a burro loaded with the doctor's pills along with me,"
said David. "I know the country. I have friends in Bogota; there is no
danger. And I leave you in good hands."
"So, that is settle," remarked Miranda complacently. "Very good! I take
care to your families. But--you will beware, my young fellow."
"I tell you I'll have a burro load of your pills, doctor!"
"That is good. You are not estupido, like this leetle fellow with the
malaria! Remember, these people are no friend just now to the Yankee."
"Everyone knows me here; I have no enemies," was the confident reply.
Honda, the picturesque little river-port whence the traveler from the
coast sets out on muleback for his three days' journey up the mountains
to Bogota, was reached on the following day, after a twenty-five mile
trip by rail from La Dorada, the terminus of the Magdalena steamers.
Charming as Honda is architecturally, its quaint red-tiled houses
nestling against a background of radiantly green foothills over which
the winding trails leading to the far distant capital are scarcely ever
without their ascending or descending trains of jostling mules and
burros, the place has something of a bad name among foreigners for its
fevers. Whether or not its reputation in this respect is deserved would
be hard to say. For the traveler, certainly, who has been confined for
ten days to the rude quarters provided by a river steamer, the little
town comes as a welcome respite in a long if not uninteresting journey.
Here, for the first time, he tastes the freedom and glamour of the
Andes; and in the movement and bustle incident to setting out on the
arduous pull over the primitive passes that thread their way across
the mountains, there is the stimulus that comes with the promise of
adventure and discovery. Honda, with its radiant sunshine, its tilted
streets, its cool white buildings and low rambling hostelries hidden
under a veil of flashing greenery, its sparkling little mountain stream
tumbling beneath a venerable bridge that savors of the days of Spanish
conquest and romance, is the link of emerald between the mighty river
of the tropics and the vast highlands that stretch upward to the region
of perpetual snow. As an emerald it lives ever after in the traveler's
memory.
In this village--it is hardly more than that--oriental in its sensuous
beauty, American of a century or two ago in character and outward
aspect, the "Barcelona's" passengers were content to stay for a time.
Una's delight in the picturesque little settlement was marred by the
impending separation from David. It was not merely his absence that
caused her unhappiness; she worried over the dangers that she believed
awaited him in Bogota. Her anxiety was increased by the rumor, reaching
the travelers on their arrival at La Dorado, that war had been declared
between the United States and Colombia. There was no truth in this
rumor; it was without official confirmation, and ridiculed alike by
Doctor Miranda, David and Leighton. But it was credited by most of the
natives, whose belief was stoutly upheld by the principal American
resident of Honda, an amiable patriarch who had once acted as his
government's representative and was known throughout the republic. True
or false, the rumor did not add to the comfort of the travelers, and
intensified Una's desire to keep David with the rest of the party until
they could all set out together for Bogota.
IX
ON INDIAN TRAILS
Doctor Miranda was right about Andrew. By the time he had finished
moving his party and their luggage from the stifling railroad shed to
the cool courtyard of Honda's principal inn, the schoolmaster had been
beaten in his last feeble fight for liberty and had become the victim
to an unlimited amount of quininizing. No need now to force his eyelids
apart to reveal the telltale yellow within. Even a tyro in such matters
could see from his jaundiced appearance, his quick breathing, his
general inertia, that he was in the first stages of an attack of fever.
This being beyond dispute, the little doctor dropped his fighting humor
for one of bustling activity, beneath which there lurked a rough sort of
tenderness for his unhappy patient. A bed, a pitcher of "lemon squash,"
and a box of the famous "pildoras," were quickly provided by dint of
much storming at the indolent hotel servants and angry prodding of the
astonished proprietor. When all his arrangements were perfected, Andrew
completely in his power and stuffed as full as might be with quinine,
the triumphant Miranda rejoined his friends, his rubicund features
beaming with satisfaction.
"No! No! my lady," he answered Una's anxious inquiries, "there is no
danger. That leetle fellow has my pills and plenty of squash. He cannot
die. Soon he will be well. You will see. I am doctor to him."
His assurances had their effect, although they failed to convince the
despondent Mrs. Quayle, who shook her head dolefully, rocking herself
back and forth in her chair and bewailing the sad fate that was awaiting
"poor dear Mr. Parmelee in this desolate country." At all of which the
irascible doctor scowled ominously, taking her complaint as a reflection
on his medical skill. Leighton, however, faced the situation in a matter
of fact way, while David set about the necessary preparations for his
journey to Bogota. An excellent opportunity offered that very day to
join General Herran's party in the trip over the mountains.
A train of twenty mules and burros was needed for the expedition, and
to procure these and load them with the necessary baggage, called for
no small amount of work and skillful management. The stone courtyard
of the inn rang with the shouts of burro drivers, the quarrels of
peons intent on selling their wares to travelers at the best prices,
and the threats and commands of General Herran and his officers. Above
this din, apparently necessary on such occasions, one could hear the
strident voice of Doctor Miranda, browbeating some luckless vendor of
merchandise, or ridiculing the exertions of those who would bestow a
maximum of baggage on a minimum of burro. In spite of the confusion,
however, everything moved along in as orderly and expeditious a manner
as is possible with these ancient methods of travel. By midday the
last load was adjusted, the twenty animals forming the cavalcade stood
strapped and ready for the start.
Hot, stifling was the air in the courtyard; the cobbled pavement of
the street outside fairly baked beneath the relentless sun. Most of
the shops and tiendas were closed for the noon siesta, and only a
few listless stragglers ventured beyond the cool white portals of
the houses. It was not a happy hour in which to commence a difficult
journey; but General Herran, marvelously energetic for once, had planned
to cover a certain distance before nightfall. So, without more ado,
the "bestias" were marshaled, single file, and driven out, with much
shouting and laying on of goads, into the street, where they stood
patiently waiting for the eight travelers whom they were to carry to
Bogota.
"We are off at last!" announced David, entering the salon where
Leighton, Una, Mrs. Quayle and Miranda awaited the caravan's departure.
"In less than a week you'll hear from me. By that time, I hope, you'll
be ready for Bogota."
"I can never go on one of those vicious animals," sighed Mrs. Quayle,
her bejeweled fingers nervously clutching the arms of the chair.
"Vicious!" exclaimed David. "They are harmless as kittens."