A SUDDEN DESCENT.
Any one but MacNabb would have passed by, around, or even over this
hut a hundred times without suspecting its existence. A projection on
the surface of the snow scarcely distinguished it from the surrounding
rocks. It was necessary to uncover it; after half an hour of persistent
labor, Wilson and Mulready had cleared away the entrance to the
"casucha," and the little party stepped in.
[Sidenote: A "RESTAURANT" REOPENED.]
This casucha, constructed by the Indians, was made of adobes, a kind
of bricks dried in the sun. Ten persons could easily find room inside,
and, if its walls had not been sufficiently water-tight in the rainy
season, at this time, at least, they were some protection against the
severity of the cold. There was, besides, a sort of fireplace with a
flue of bricks very poorly laid, which enabled them to kindle a fire,
and thus withstand the external temperature.
"Here is a shelter, at least," said Glenarvan, "even if it is not
comfortable. Providence has led us hither, and we cannot do better than
accept this fortune."
"Why," replied Paganel, "it is a palace. It only wants sentries and
courtiers. We shall get along admirably here."
"Especially when a good fire is blazing on the hearth," said Tom
Austin; "for, if we are hungry, we are none the less cold it seems to
me; and, for my part, a good fagot would delight me more than a slice
of venison."
"Well, Tom," said Paganel, "we will try to find something combustible."
"Something combustible on the top of the Andes?" said Mulready, shaking
his head doubtfully.
"Since a chimney has been made in this hut," replied the major, "there
is probably something here to burn."
"Our friend is right," added Glenarvan. "Prepare everything for supper;
and I will play the part of wood-cutter."
"I will accompany you with Wilson," said Paganel.
"If you need me----," said Robert, rising.
"No, rest yourself, my brave boy," replied Glenarvan. "You will be a
man when others are only children."
Glenarvan, Paganel, and Wilson went out of the hut. It was six o'clock
in the evening. The cold was keen and cutting, in spite of the calmness
of the air. The azure of the sky was already fading, and the sun
shedding his last rays on the lofty peaks of the mountains.
Reaching a hillock of porphyry, they scanned the horizon in every
direction. They had now gained the summit of the Andes, which commanded
an extended prospect. To the east the sides of the mountains declined
by gentle gradations, down which they could see the peons sliding
several hundred feet below. In the distance extended long lines of
scattered rocks and stones that had been crowded back by glacial
avalanches. The valley of the Colorado was already growing dim in the
increasing twilight; the elevations of land, the crags and the peaks,
illumined by the rays of the sun, gradually faded, and darkness covered
the whole eastern slope of the Andes.
Towards the north undulated a succession of ridges that mingled
together insensibly. To the south, however, the view was magnificent;
and, as night descended, the grandeur was inimitable. Looking down
into the wild valley of Torbido, you saw Mount Antuco, whose yawning
crater was two miles distant. The volcano, like some enormous monster,
belched forth glowing smoke mingled with torrents of bright flame. The
circle of the mountains that inclosed it seemed to be on fire. Showers
of incandescent stones, clouds of reddish vapors, and streams of lava,
united in glittering columns. A loud rumbling that increased every
moment, and was followed by a dazzling flash, filled this vast circuit
with its sharp reverberations, while the sun, his light gradually
fading, disappeared as a star is extinguished in the shadows of the
horizon.
[Sidenote: FOOD BROUGHT TO THE DOOR.]
Paganel and Glenarvan would have remained a long time to contemplate
this magnificent struggle of the fires of earth with those of heaven,
and the improvised wood-cutters were becoming admirers of nature; but
Wilson, less enthusiastic, reminded them of their situation. Wood was
wanting, it is true, but fortunately a scanty and dry moss clothed the
rocks. An ample supply was taken, as well as of a plant whose roots
were quite combustible. This precious fuel was brought to the hut, and
piled in the fire-place; but it was difficult to kindle the fire, and
especially to keep it burning.
When the viands were prepared, each one drank several mouthfuls of
hot coffee with delight. As for the dried meat, it appeared a little
unsatisfactory, which provoked on the part of Paganel a remark as
useless as it was true.
"Indeed," said he, "I must confess a llama-steak would not be bad just
now."
"What!" cried the major, "are you not content with our supper, Paganel?"
"Enchanted, my good major; but I acknowledge a plate of venison would
be welcome."
"You are a sybarite," said MacNabb.
"I accept the title, major; but you yourself, whatever you may say,
would not be displeased with a beefsteak."
"Probably not."
"And if you were asked to take your post at the cannon, you would go
without a word."
"Certainly: and, although it pleases you----"
His companions had not heard any more, when distant and prolonged howls
were heard. They were not the cries of scattered animals, but those of
a herd approaching with rapidity. Would Providence, after furnishing
them with shelter, give them their supper? Such was the thought of the
geographer. But Glenarvan humbled his joy somewhat by observing that
the animals of the Andes were never met with in so elevated a region.
"Whence comes the noise, then?" asked Tom Austin. "Hear how it
approaches!"
"An avalanche!" said Mulready.
"Impossible! these are real howls!" replied Paganel.
"Let us see," cried Glenarvan.
"Let us see like hunters," answered the major, as he took his rifle.
All rushed out of the hut. Night had come. It was dark, but the sky was
studded with stars. The moon had not yet shown her disk. The peaks
on the north and east were lost in the darkness, and the eye only
perceived the grotesque outlines of a few towering rocks.
The howls--those of terrified animals--were redoubled. They came from
the dark side of the mountain. What was going on?
Suddenly there came a furious avalanche, but one of living creatures,
mad with terror. The whole plateau seemed to tremble. There were
hundreds, perhaps thousands, of these animals. Were they wild beasts
of the Pampas, or only llamas? The whole party had only time to throw
themselves to the earth, while this living whirlwind passed a few feet
above them.
At this moment the report of a fire-arm was heard. The major had shot
at a venture. He thought that a large animal fell a few paces from
him, while the whole herd, carried along by their resistless motion,
disappeared down the slopes illumined by the volcano.
"Ah, I have them!" cried a voice, that of Paganel.
"What have you?" asked Glenarvan.
"My glasses, to be sure!"
"You are not wounded?"
"No, a little kick,--but by what?"
"By this," replied the major, dragging after him the animal he had shot.
Each one hastened to gain the hut; and by the light of the fire
MacNabb's prize was examined. It was a pretty animal, resembling a
little camel without a hump. It had a small head, flat body, long legs
and claws, fine coffee-colored hair, and its breast was spotted with
white.
Scarcely had Paganel looked at it when he exclaimed,--
"It is a guanaco!"
"What is that?" asked Glenarvan.
"An animal that eats itself."
"And is it good?"
[Sidenote: "A DISH FOR THE GODS."]
"Delicious! a dish for the gods! I knew well that you would like fresh
meat for supper. And what meat this is! But who will dress the animal?"
"I will," said Wilson.
"Well, I will engage to broil it," replied Paganel.
"You are a cook, then, Monsieur Paganel?" said Robert.
"Certainly, my boy. A Frenchman is always a cook."
In a little while Paganel placed large slices of meat on the coals,
and, in a short time, served up to his companions this appetizing
viand. No one hesitated, but each attacked it ravenously. To the great
amazement of the geographer, a general grimace accompanied by a "pwah!"
followed the first mouthful.
"It is horrible!" said one.
"It is not eatable!" replied another.
The poor geographer, whatever was the difficulty, was forced to agree
that this steak was not acceptable even to starving men. They therefore
began to launch jokes at him, and deride his "dish for the gods," while
he himself sought a reason for this unaccountable result.
"I have it!" he cried. "I have it!"
"Is the meat too old?" asked MacNabb, calmly.
"No, my intolerant major; but it has traveled too much. How could I
forget that?"
"What do you mean?" asked Tom Austin.
"I mean that the animal is not good unless killed when at rest. I
can affirm from the taste that it has come from a distance, and,
consequently, the whole herd."
"You are certain of this?" said Glenarvan.
"Absolutely so."
"But what event could have terrified these animals so, and driven them
at a time when they ought to be peacefully sleeping in their lairs."
"As to that, my dear Glenarvan," said Paganel, "it is impossible for me
to say. If you believe me, let us search no farther. For my part I am
dying for want of sleep. Let us retire, major!"
"Very well, Paganel."
Thereupon each wrapped himself in his poncho, the fuel was replenished
for the night, and soon all but Glenarvan were buried in profound
repose.
He alone did not sleep. A secret uneasiness held him in a state of
wakeful fatigue. He could not help thinking of that herd, flying in one
common direction, of their inexplicable terror. They could not have
been pursued by wild beasts: at that height there were scarcely any,
and yet fewer hunters. What fright had driven them over the abysses
of Antuco, and what was the cause of it? He thought of their strange
situation, and felt a presentiment of coming danger.
However, under the influence of a partial drowsiness, his ideas
gradually modified, and fear gave place to hope. He saw himself in
anticipation, on the morrow, on the plain at the foot of the Andes.
There his actual search was to begin; and success was not, perhaps, far
distant. He thought of Captain Grant and his two sailors, delivered
from a cruel slavery.
These images passed rapidly before his mind, every instant interrupted
by a flash of fire, a spark, a flame, illumining the faces of his
sleeping companions, and casting a flickering shadow over the walls of
the hut. Then his presentiments returned with more vividness, while
he listened vaguely to the external sounds so difficult to explain on
these solitary summits.
At one moment he thought he heard distant rumblings, dull and
threatening like the rollings of thunder. These sounds could be caused
only by a tempest, raging on the sides of the mountain. He wished to
convince himself, and left the hut.
The moon had risen, and the sky was clear and calm. Not a cloud was to
be seen either above or below, only now and then the moving shadows of
the flames of the volcano. At the zenith twinkled thousands of stars,
while the rumblings still continued. They seemed to approach, and run
along the chain of the mountains.
[Illustration: The internal rumblings, the din of the avalanche, the
crash of the blocks of granite, and the whirlwinds of snow, rendered
all communication with each other impossible.]
Glenarvan returned more uneasy than before, seeking to divine what
relation there was between these subterranean noises and the flight of
the guanacos. He looked at his watch; it was two o'clock.
However, having no certain knowledge of immediate danger, he did not
wake his companions, whom fatigue held in a deep repose, but fell
himself into a heavy sleep that lasted several hours.
All at once a violent crash startled him to his feet. It was a
deafening roar, like the irregular noise of innumerable artillery
wagons rolling over a hollow pavement. Glenarvan suddenly felt the
earth tremble beneath his feet. He saw the hut sway and start open.
"Look out!" he cried.
His companions, awakened and thrown into confusion, were hurried down
a rapid descent. The day was breaking, and the scene was terrible. The
form of the mountains suddenly changed, their tops were truncated,
the tottering peaks disappeared, as if a pitfall had opened at their
base. A mass, several miles in extent, became detached entire, and slid
towards the plain.
"An earthquake!" cried Paganel.
He was not mistaken. It was one of those phenomena frequent on the
mountain frontier of Chili. This portion of the globe is disturbed
by subterranean fires, and the volcanoes of this chain afford only
insufficient outlets for the confined vapors.
In the meantime the plateau, to which seven stunned and terrified men
clung by the tufts of moss, glided with the rapidity of an express.
Not a cry was possible, not a movement of escape. They could not hear
each other. The internal rumblings, the din of the avalanche, the crash
of the blocks of granite, and the whirlwinds of snow, rendered all
communication with each other impossible.
[Sidenote: A STEEP GRADIENT.]
At one time the mass would slide without jolts or jars; at another,
seized with a pitching and rolling motion like the deck of a vessel
shaken by the billows, it would run along the edge of the abysses
into which the fragments of the mountain fell, uproot the trees of
centuries, and level with the precision of an enormous scythe all the
inequalities of the eastern slope.
How long this indescribable scene lasted, no one could tell; in what
abyss all were to be engulfed, no one was able to foresee. Whether they
were all there alive, or whether one of them was lying at the bottom of
a crevasse, no one could say. Stunned by the swiftness of the descent,
chilled by the keenness of the cold, blinded by the whirlwinds of snow,
they panted, exhausted and almost inanimate, and only clung to the
rocks by the supreme instinct of preservation.
All at once a shock of unusual violence arrested their gliding vehicle.
They were thrown forward and rolled upon the last declivities of the
mountains. The plateau had stopped short.
[Illustration]
For a few moments no one stirred. At last one rose, deafened by the
shock, but yet firm. It was the major. He shook off the snow that
blinded him, and looked around. His companions were not very far from
one another. He counted them. All but one lay on the ground. The
missing one was Robert Grant.