NEWS OF THE LOST CAPTAIN.
At eight o'clock the next morning Thalcave gave the signal for
departure. The slope was gradual, and the travelers had only to descend
a gentle declivity to the sea.
When the Patagonian declined the horse that Glenarvan offered him, the
latter thought that he preferred to go on foot, according to the custom
of certain guides; and indeed, his long legs ought to have made walking
easy. But he was mistaken.
At the moment of departure Thalcave whistled in a peculiar manner.
Immediately a magnificent Argentine horse, of superb form, issued from
a small wood near by, and approached at the call of his master. The
animal was perfectly beautiful. His brown color indicated a sound,
spirited and courageous beast. He had a small and elegantly poised
head, widely opening nostrils, a fiery eye, large hams, swelling
withers, broad breast, long pasterns, in short, all the qualities that
constitute strength and suppleness. The major, like a perfect horseman,
admired unreservedly this specimen of the horses of the plains. This
beautiful creature was called Thaouka, which means "bird" in the
Patagonian language, and he justly merited this appellation.
[Sidenote: A FRESH START.]
When Thalcave was in the saddle, the horse pranced with spirited grace,
and the Patagonian, a skillful rider, was magnificent to behold. His
outfit comprised two weapons of the chase, the "bolas" and the lasso.
The bolas consists of three balls tied together by a leathern string,
which are fastened to the front of the saddle. The Indians frequently
throw them the distance of a hundred paces at the animal or enemy that
they are pursuing, and with such precision that they twist about their
legs and bring them to the ground. It is, therefore, in their hands a
formidable instrument, and they handle it with surprising dexterity.
The lasso, on the contrary, does not leave the hand that wields it. It
consists simply of a leathern thong thirty feet in length, terminating
in a slip-noose which works upon an iron ring. The right hand throws
the slip-noose, while the left hand holds the remainder of the lasso,
the end of which is firmly tied to the saddle. A long carbine in a
sling completed the Patagonian's armament.
Thalcave, without observing the admiration caused by his natural
grace, ease and courage, took the lead, and the party advanced, now
at a gallop, and now at a walk, for their horses seemed entirely
unaccustomed to trotting. Robert mounted with much boldness, and
speedily convinced Glenarvan of his ability to keep his seat.
On issuing from the gorges of the Andes, they encountered a great
number of sand-ridges, called "medanos," real waves incessantly
agitated by the wind, when the roots of the herbage did not confine
them to the earth. This sand is of an extreme fineness; and, at the
least breath, they saw it float away in light clouds, or form regular
sand-columns which rose to a considerable height. This spectacle caused
pleasure as well as annoyance to the eyes. Pleasure, for nothing was
more curious than these columns, wandering over the plain, struggling,
mingling, sinking and rising in inexpressible confusion; and annoyance,
since an impalpable dust emanated from these innumerable medanos and
penetrated the eyelids, however tightly they were closed.
[Illustration]
This phenomenon continued during a great part of the day. Nevertheless,
they advanced rapidly, and towards six o'clock the Andes, forty miles
distant, presented a darkish aspect already fading in the mists of the
evening.
The travelers were a little fatigued with their journey, and,
therefore, saw with pleasure the approach of the hour for retiring.
They encamped on the shores of a turbulent stream, enclosed by lofty
red cliffs. Toward noon of the next day, the sun's rays became very
oppressive, and at evening a line of clouds on the horizon indicated
a change in the weather. The Patagonian could not be deceived, and
pointed out to the geographer the western portion of the sky.
"Good, I know," said Paganel, and addressing his companions: "A change
in the weather is about to take place. We shall have a 'pampero.'"
[Sidenote: TALKING LIKE A BOOK.]
He explained that this pampero is frequent on the Argentine Plains. It
is a very dry wind from the southwest. Thalcave was not mistaken, and
during the night, which was quite uncomfortable for people sheltered
with a simple poncho, the wind blew with great violence. The horses lay
down on the ground, and the men near them in a close group. Glenarvan
feared they would be delayed if the storm continued; but Paganel
reassured him after consulting his barometer.
"Ordinarily," said he, "this wind creates tempests, which last for
three days; but when the barometer rises as it does now, you are free
from these furious hurricanes in a few hours. Be assured, then, my dear
friend; at break of day the sky will have resumed its usual clearness."
"You talk like a book, Paganel," replied Glenarvan.
"And I am one," replied Paganel, "which you are free to consult as much
as you please."
He was not mistaken. At one o'clock in the morning the wind suddenly
subsided, and every one was able to enjoy an invigorating sleep. The
next morning they rose bright and fresh, especially Paganel, who
displayed great cheerfulness and animation.
During this passage across the continent, Lord Glenarvan watched with
scrupulous attention for the approach of the natives. He wished to
question them concerning Captain Grant, by the aid of the Patagonian,
with whom Paganel had begun to converse considerably. But they
followed a path little frequented by the Indians, for the trails over
the Pampas, which lead from the Argentine Republic to the Andes, are
situated too far to the north. If by chance a wandering horseman
appeared in the distance, he fled rapidly away, little caring to come
in contact with strangers.
However, although Glenarvan, in the interest of his search, regretted
the absence of the Indians, an incident took place which singularly
justified the interpretation of the document.
Several times the course pursued by the expedition crossed paths on
the Pampas, among others quite an important road--that from Carmen to
Mendoza--distinguishable by the bones of such animals as mules, horses,
sheep and oxen, whose remains were scattered by the birds of prey, and
lay bleaching in the sun. There were thousands of them, and, without
doubt, more than one human skeleton had added its bones to those of
these humbler animals.
Hitherto Thalcave had made no remark concerning the line so rigorously
followed. He understood, however, that if they kept no definite
course over the Pampas, they would not come to cities or villages.
Every morning they advanced towards the rising sun, without deviating
from the straight line, and every evening the setting sun was behind
them. In his capacity of guide, Thalcave must, therefore, have been
astonished to see that not only he did not guide them, but that they
guided him. Nevertheless, if he was astonished, with the reserve
natural to the Indians he made no remark. But to-day arriving at the
above-mentioned road, he stopped his horse, and turned towards Paganel.
"Road to Carmen," said he.
"Yes, my good Patagonian," replied the geographer, in his purest
Spanish; "road to Carmen and Mendoza."
"We do not take it?" resumed Thalcave.
"No," answered Paganel.
"And we are going----?"
"Always to the east."
"That is going nowhere."
"Who knows?"
Thalcave was silent, and gazed at the geographer with profound
surprise. He did not admit, however, that Paganel was joking the least
in the world. An Indian, with his natural seriousness, never imagines
that you are not speaking in earnest.
"You are not going to Carmen then?" he added, after an instant of
silence.
[Sidenote: A PROFESSORIAL DIFFICULTY.]
"No," replied Paganel.
"Nor to Mendoza?"
"No."
At this moment Glenarvan, rejoining Paganel, asked what Thalcave said,
and why he had stopped.
When he had told him, Glenarvan said,--
"Could you not explain to him the object of our expedition, and why we
must always proceed toward the east?"
"That would be very difficult," answered Paganel, "for an Indian
understands nothing of geography."
"But," said the major seriously, "is it the history, or the historian,
that he cannot understand?"
"Ah, MacNabb," said Paganel, "you still doubt my Spanish!"
"Try, my worthy friend."
"Very well."
Paganel turned to the Patagonian, and began a discourse, frequently
interrupted for want of words and from the difficulty of explaining to
a half-ignorant savage details which were rather incomprehensible to
him.
The geographer was just then a curious sight. He gesticulated,
articulated, and exerted himself in a hundred ways, while great
drops of sweat rolled down his face. When his tongue could no longer
move, his arm came to his aid. He dismounted, and traced on the
sand a geographical map, with lines of latitude and longitude, the
two oceans, and the road to Carmen. Never was professor in such
embarrassment. Thalcave watched these manoeuvres without showing whether
he comprehended or not.
The lesson in geography lasted more than half an hour. At last Paganel
ceased, wiped his face, which was wet with perspiration, and looked at
the Patagonian.
"Did he understand?" inquired Glenarvan.
"We shall see," replied Paganel; "but, if he did not, I give it up."
[Sidenote: "PERHAPS!"]
Thalcave did not stir. He no longer spoke. His eyes were fixed upon
the figures traced on the sand, which the wind was gradually effacing.
[Illustration: An important road--that from Carmen to
Mendoza--distinguishable by the bones of such animals as mules, horses,
sheep and oxen, whose remains were scattered by the birds of prey, and
lay bleaching in the sun.]
"Well?" asked Paganel.
Thalcave did not appear to hear him. Paganel already saw an ironical
smile forming upon the lips of the major, and, wishing to save
his reputation, had begun with renewed energy his geographical
demonstrations, when the Patagonian stopped him with a gesture.
"You are searching for a prisoner?" he said.
"Yes," replied Paganel.
"And exactly on the line from the setting to the rising sun?" said
Thalcave, indicating by a comparison, in the Indian manner, the course
from west to east.
"Yes, yes, that is it!"
"And it is your God," said the Patagonian, "who has confided to the
waves of the vast ocean the secrets of the prisoner?"
"God himself."
"May his will be accomplished then!" replied Thalcave, with a certain
solemnity. "We will go to the east, and, if necessary, even to the sun."
Paganel, in his exultation over his pupil, immediately translated to
his companions the replies of the Indian.
Glenarvan requested Paganel to ask the Patagonian if he had heard
of any strangers falling into the hands of the Indians, which was
accordingly done.
"Perhaps," replied the Patagonian.
As soon as this word was translated, Thalcave was surrounded by the
seven travelers, who gazed at him with questioning looks. Paganel,
excited and scarcely finding his words, resumed these interesting
interrogatories, while his eyes, fixed upon the grave Indian, strove
to anticipate his reply before it issued from his lips. Every word the
Patagonian said he repeated in English, so that his companions heard
the Indian speak, as it were, in their own language.
"And this prisoner?" inquired Paganel.
"He was a stranger," replied Thalcave slowly; "a European."
"You have seen him?"
"No, but he is mentioned in the accounts of the Indians. He was a brave
man."
"You understand, my friends," said Paganel; "a courageous man!"
"My father!" cried Robert Grant.
Then, addressing Paganel:
"How do you say 'It is my father,' in Spanish?" he asked.
"_Es mio padre_," answered the geographer.
Immediately Robert, taking Thalcave's hands, said in a sweet voice,--
"_Es mio padre!_"
"_Suo padre!_" replied the Patagonian, whose look brightened.
He took the boy in his arms, lifted him from his horse, and gazed at
him with the most curious sympathy. His intelligent countenance became
suffused with a peaceful emotion.
But Paganel had not finished his inquiries. Where was this prisoner?
What was he doing? When had Thalcave heard of him? All these questions
thronged his mind at once. He did not have to wait long for answers,
but learnt that the European was a slave of one of the Indian tribes
that scour the plains.
"But where was he last?" asked Paganel.
"With the cazique Calfoucoura," answered Thalcave.
"On the line we have been following?"
"Yes."
"And who is this cazique?"
"The chief of the Poyuches Indians; a man with two tongues and two
hearts."
[Sidenote: A SCIENTIFIC BATH.]
"That is to say, false in word and in deed," said Paganel, after
translating to his companions this beautiful metaphor of the Indian
language. "And can we rescue our friend?" he added.
"Perhaps so, if your friend is still in the hands of the Indians."
"And when did you hear of him?"
"A long time ago, and, since then, the sun has brought back two summers
to the sky."
Glenarvan's joy could not be described. This answer coincided exactly
with the date of the document. But one question remained to be asked.
"You speak of a prisoner," said Paganel; "but were there not three?"
"I do not know," replied Thalcave.
"And you know nothing of their actual situation?"
"Nothing."
This last word ended the conversation. It was possible that the three
prisoners had been separated a long time. But the substance of the
Patagonian's information was that the Indians spoke of a European who
had fallen into their power. The date of his captivity, the place where
he must have been, everything, even to the Patagonian phrase used to
express his courage, related evidently to Captain Harry Grant.
Their progress was now somewhat slow and difficult; their next object
being to reach and cross the river Colorado, to which at length
their horses brought them. Here Paganel's first care was to bathe
"geographically" in its waters, which are colored by a reddish clay. He
was surprised to find the depth so great as it really was, this being
the result of the snow having melted rapidly under the first heat of
summer. The width likewise of this stream was so considerable that it
was almost impossible for their horses to swim across; but they happily
discovered a sort of weir-bridge, of wattles looped and fastened
together, which the Indians were in the habit of using; and by its aid
the little troop was enabled to pass over to the left bank, where they
rested for the night.
[Illustration]