The two hundred miles which lay before Rosendo and his little band
stretched their rugged, forbidding length through ragged cañons,
rushing waters, and dank, virginal forest. Only the old man, as he
trudged along the worn trail between Simití and the Inanea river,
where canoes waited to transport the travelers to the little village
of Boque, had any adequate conception of what the journey meant. Even
the _cargadores_ were unfamiliar with the region which they were to
penetrate. Some of them had been over the Guamocó trail as far as
Culata; a few had ascended the Boque river to its farthest navigable
point. But none had penetrated the inmost reaches of the great cañon
through which the headwaters tumbled and roared, and none had ever
dreamed of making the passage over the great divide, the _Barra
Principal_, to the Tiguí beyond.
To the Americans, fresh from the luxury and convention of city life,
and imbued with the indomitable Yankee spirit of adventure, the
prospect was absorbing in its allurements. Especially to the
excitable, high-strung Harris, whose great eyes almost popped from his
head at the continuous display of tropical marvels, and whose
exclamations of astonishment and surprise, enriched from his
inexhaustible store of American slang and miner's parlance, burst from
his gaping mouth at every turn of the sinuous trail. From the outset,
he had constituted himself Carmen's special protector, although
much to Rosendo's consternation, for the lank, awkward fellow, whose
lean shoulders bent under the weight of some six-feet-two of
height, went stumbling and tripping along the way, swaying against
every tree and bush that edged the path, and constantly giving noisy
vent to his opinions regarding trails in general, and those of the
tropics in particular. His only accouterment was a Winchester
rifle of tremendous bore, which he insisted on carrying in constant
readiness to meet either beasts of prey or savage Indians, but
which, in his absent-mindedness and dreamy preoccupation, he
either dragged, muzzle up, or carried at such dangerous angles that
the natives were finally obliged, in self-protection, to insist
that he hand the weapon over to Rosendo. To Carmen, as the days
passed and she gradually recognized his sterling qualities, he
became a source of delight. Hour after hour she trotted along after
him, chatting merrily in her beloved English tongue, poking fun at
his awkwardness, and laughing boisterously over his quaint slang and
naïve Yankee expressions. She had never heard such things from Josè;
nor had the priest, despite his profound knowledge, ever told her
such exciting tales as did Harris, when he drew from his store of
frontier memories and colored his narratives with the rich tints
furnished by his easy imagination.
The first day out had been one of mental struggle for the girl. She
had turned into the trail, after waving a last farewell to Josè, with
a feeling that she had never experienced before. For hours she trudged
along, oblivious of her environment, murmuring, "It isn't true--it
isn't true!" until Harris, his curiosity aroused by the constant
repetition which floated now and then to his ears, demanded to know
what it was that was so radically false.
"It isn't true that we can be separated," she answered, looking at him
with moist eyes.
"We?" he exclaimed.
"Yes, God's children--people--people--who--love each other," she
replied. Then she dropped her eyes in evident embarrassment, and
refused to discuss the topic further.
"Lord Harry!" ejaculated Harris, pondering the cryptical remark, "you
surely are a queer little dud!"
But the girl turned from him to Rosendo. He understood her. Nor would
she permit the old man to leave her until, late that night, exhausted
by the excitement of the day, she dropped asleep in the house of Don
Nicolás, on the muddy margin of the river Boque, still clinging to
Rosendo's hand.
Despite the protestations of Don Nicolás and the pleading of the
_cargadores_, Rosendo stolidly refused to spend a day at Boque.
Apprehension lashed him furiously on. They were still within reach of
the federal authorities. He dared not rest until the jungle had
swallowed them.
"Ah, _compadre_," said Don Nicolás, in disappointment, "I would like
much for you to enjoy my house while it is still clean. For the ants
have visited me. _Hombre_! they swarmed down upon us but a day ago.
They came out of the bush in millions, straight for the house. We
fled. _Caramba_! had we remained, we should have been eaten alive. But
they swept the house--_Hombre_! no human hands could have done so
well. Every spider, every rat, beetle, flea, every plague, was
instantly eaten, and within a half hour they had disappeared again,
and we moved back into a thoroughly cleaned house!"
Harris stood with mouth agape in mute astonishment when Carmen, whom
he had constituted his interpreter, translated to him the story.
That evening, after they had eaten out in the open before the house,
and the Americans had tickled the palates of the villagers with some
tinned beef of uncertain quality, Don Nicolás approached Reed.
"Señor," he said, "my mother, now very aged, is sick, and we think she
can not recover. But you Americanos are wonderfully skilled, and your
medicines powerful. Have you not some remedy in your pack that will
alleviate the good woman's sufferings? They are severe, señor."
Reed knew how great was the faith of these simple people in the wisdom
of the American, and he had reason to wish to preserve it. But he had
come into that country illy prepared to cope with disease, and his
medical equipment contained nothing but quinine. He reflected a
moment, then turned to Harris.
"Did you smuggle any of your beloved root-beer extract into the
equipment?" he inquired, his eyes twinkling.
Harris looked sheepish, but returned a sullen affirmative.
"Well," continued Reed, "dig out a bottle and we'll fix up a dose of
pain-killer for our worthy host's mother."
Then he turned to Don Nicolás. "Cierto, señor," he said with an air of
confidence. "I have a remedy which I know to be unfailing for any
disease."
He disappeared into the house, from which he emerged again in a few
moments with an empty cola bottle. Washing this clean in the river, he
partly filled it with water. Then he poured in the small bottle of
root-beer extract which Harris handed him, and added a few grains of
quinine. Shaking the mixture thoroughly, he carried it to Don
Nicolás.
"Be very careful, señor," he admonished, giving him the bottle. "It is
a medicine extremely powerful and immediate in its action. Give the
señora a small teaspoonful every hour. By morning you will notice a
marked change."
Don Nicolás's eyes lighted with joy, and his gratitude poured forth in
extravagant expressions.
With the first indications of approaching day Rosendo was abroad,
rounding up his cargadores, who were already bickering as to their
respective duties, and arranging the luggage in the canoes for the
river trip. Additional boats and men had been secured; and Don Nicolás
himself expressed his intention of accompanying them as far as his
hacienda, Maria Rosa, a day's journey up-stream.
"It was there that I hid during the last revolution," he said, "when
the soldiers burned the village and cut off the ears and fingers of
our women for their rings. Ah, señores, you can not know how we
suffered! All my goods stolen or burned--my family scattered--my
_finca_ destroyed! We lived two years at Maria Rosa, not daring to
come down the river again. We wore the skins of animals for clothing.
_Caramba_!" His eyes burned fiercely as he spoke, and his hands opened
and closed convulsively. He was a representative of that large class
of _rurales_ upon whom the heaviest burdens, the greatest suffering,
and the most poignant sorrow attending a political revolution always
fall.
"But, señor!" he exclaimed, suddenly turning to Reed, "I had all but
forgotten! My mother, she sends for you. She would see the kind
American whose remedies are so wonderful. For, señor, she rose from
her bed this morning restored! And you must leave us another bottle of
the remedy--at whatever price, señor!"
Reed gazed at the man uncomprehendingly, until at length the truth
dawned upon him. His root-beer remedy had done its work! Then a broad
grin mantled his face; but he quickly suppressed it and went with Don
Nicolás to receive in person his patient's effusive thanks. When he
returned and took his place in the waiting boat, he shook his head.
"It's past all understanding," he muttered to Harris, "what faith will
do! I can believe now that it will remove mountains."
Throughout the long, interminably long, hot day the perspiring men
poled and paddled, urged and teased, waded and pushed against the
increasing current, until, as the shadows began to close around them,
they sighted the scarcely visible opening in the bush which marked the
trail to the _hacienda_ of Maria Rosa. It was a desperately lonely
clearing on the verge of the jungle; but there were two thatch-covered
sheds, and to the exhausted travelers it gave assurance of rest and
protection. Before they made the landing Rosendo's sharp eyes had
spied a large ant-eater and her cub, moving sluggishly through the
bush; and Reed's quick shots had brought them both down. The men's
eyes dilated when the animals were dragged into the canoes. It meant
fresh meat instead of salt _bagre_ for at least two days.
Early next morning the travelers bade farewell to Don Nicolás and set
their course again up-stream. They would now see no human being other
than the members of their own little party until they reached Llano,
on the distant Nechí.
"Remember," called Don Nicolás, as the canoes drifted out into the
stream, "the _quebrada_ of Caracolí is the third on the right. An old
trail used to lead from there across to the Tiguicito--but I doubt if
you find even a trace of it now. There is no water between that point
and the Tiguicito. _Conque, adios, señores, adios_!"
The hallooing of farewells echoed along the river and died away in the
dark forest on either hand. Harris and Reed settled back in their
canoe and yielded to the fascination of the slowly shifting scene.
Carmen chose to occupy the same canoe with them, and perforce Rosendo
acted as _patron_. They therefore took the lead. Between his knees
Reed held the rifle upright, in readiness for any animal whose
curiosity might bring it to the water's edge to view the rare pageant
passing through that unbroken solitude.
The river was now narrowing, and there were often rapids whose ascent
necessitated disembarking from the canoes, while the _bogas_ strained
and teased the lumbering dugouts up over them. In places the stream
was choked by fallen trees and tangled driftwood, until only a narrow,
tortuous opening was left, through which the waters raced like a
mill-course, making a heavy draft on the intuitive skill of the
_bogas_. Often slender islets rose from the river; and then heated,
chattering, often acrimonious discussions ensued among the men as to
the proper channel to take. Always on either side rose the matted,
tangled, impenetrable forest wall of dense bush and giant trees, from
which innumerable trailers and _bejuco_ vines dropped into the waters
beneath. From the surface of the river to the tops of the great trees,
often two hundred feet above, hung a drapery of creeping plants, of
parasitical growths, and diversified foliage, of the most vivid shades
of green, inextricably laced and interwoven, and dotted here and there
with orchideous flowers and strange blossoms, while in the tempered
sunlight which sifted through it sported gorgeous insects and
butterflies of enormous size and exquisite shades, striped and spotted
in orange, blue, and vivid red. Scarcely a hand's breadth of the
jungle wall but contained some strange, eerie animal or vegetable form
that brought expressions of wonder and astonishment from the
enraptured Americans. At times, too, there were grim tragedies being
enacted before them. In one spot a huge, hairy spider, whose delicate,
lace-like web hung to the water's edge, was viciously wrapping its
silken thread about a tiny bird that had become entangled. Again, a
shriek from beyond the river's margin told of some careless monkey or
small animal that had fallen prey to a hungry jaguar. Above the
travelers all the day swung the ubiquitous buzzards, with their
watchful, speculative eyes ever on the slowly moving cavalcade.
Carmen sat enthralled. If her thought reverted at all to the priest,
she gave no hint of it. But once, leaning back and gazing off into
the opalescent sky overhead, she murmured: "And to think, it is only
the way the human mind translates God's ideas! How wonderful must they
be! And some day I shall see those ideas, instead of the mortal mind's
interpretations of them!"
Harris heard her, and asked her to repeat her comments in English. But
she refused. "You would not understand," she said simply. And no
badinage on his part could further influence her.
Rosendo, inscrutable and silent, showed plainly the weight of
responsibility which he felt. Only twice that day did he emerge from
the deep reserve into which he had retired; once when, in the far
distance, his keen eye espied a small deer, drinking at the water's
edge, but which, scenting the travelers, fled into cover ere Reed
could bring the rifle to his shoulders; and again, when they were upon
a jaguar almost before either they or the astonished animal realized
it.
In the tempered rays of the late afternoon sun the flower-bespangled
walls of the forest became alive with gaily painted birds and insects.
Troops of chattering monkeys awoke from their midday _siesta_ and
scampered noisily through the treetops over the aerial highways
formed by the liana vines, whose great bush-ropes, often a foot and
more in thickness, stretched their winding length long distances
through the forest, and bound the vegetation together in an
intricate, impenetrable network. Yellow and purple blossoms, in a
riot of ineffable splendor, bedecked the lofty trees and tangled
parasitical creepers that wrapped around them, constituting
veritable hanging gardens. Great palms, fattened by the almost
incessant rains in this hot-house of Nature, rose in the spaces
unoccupied by the buttressed roots of the forest giants. Splendidly
tailored kingfishers swooped over the water, scarce a foot above its
surface. Quarreling parrots and nagging macaws screamed their
inarticulate message to the travelers. Tiny forest gems, the
infinitely variegated _colibrí_, whirred across the stream and
followed its margins until attracted by the gorgeous pendent flowers.
On the _playas_ in the hazy distance ahead the travelers could often
distinguish tall, solemn cranes, dancing their grotesque measures, or
standing on one leg and dreaming away their little hour of life in
this terrestrial fairy-land.
Darkness fell, almost with the swiftness of a snuffed candle. For an
hour Rosendo had been straining his eyes toward the right bank of the
river, and as he gazed his apprehension increased. But, as night
closed in, a soft murmur floated down to the cramped, toil-worn
travelers, and the old man, with a glad light in his eyes, announced
that they were approaching the _quebrada_ of Caracolí. A half hour
later, by the weird, flickering light of the candles which Reed and
Harris held out on either side, Rosendo turned the canoe into a
brawling stream, and ran its nose into the deep alluvial soil.
Plunging fearlessly through the fringe of delicate ferns which lined
the margin of the creek, he cut a wide swath with his great _machete_
and uncovered a dim trail, which led to a ramshackle, thatch-covered
hut a few yards beyond. It was the tumbled vestige of a shelter which
Don Nicolás had erected years before while hunting wild pigs through
this trackless region. An hour later the little group lay asleep on
the damp ground, wrapped in the solitude of the great forest.
The silvery haze of dawn was dimming the stars and deepening into
ruddier hues that tinged the fronds of the mighty trees as with
streaks of blood when Rosendo, like an implacable Nemesis, prodded his
little party into activity. Their first day's march through the
wilderness was to begin, and the old man moved with the nervous,
restless energy of a hunted jaguar. The light breakfast of coffee and
cold _arepa_ over, he dismissed the _bogas_, who were to return to
Boque with the canoes, and set about arranging the cargo in suitable
packs for the _cargadores_ who were to accompany him over the long
reaches of jungle that stretched between them and Llano. Two
_macheteros_ were sent on ahead of the main party to locate and open a
trail. The rest followed an hour later. Before the shimmering,
opalescent rays which overspread the eastern sky had begun to turn
downward, the little cavalcade, led by Rosendo, had taken the narrow,
newly-cut trail and plunged into the shadows of the forest--
"the great, dim, mysterious forest, where uncertainty wavers to an
interrogation point."