 Book 1 Chapter 11 of In Search of the Castaways. The native troops, organized by Lord Glenarvyn, consisted of three men and a boy. The captain of the mule-tears was an Englishman who had become naturalized through twenty years' residence in the country. He made a livelihood by letting up mules to travelers, and leading them over the difficult passes of the Cordilleras, after which he gave them in the charge of a Bacchiano, or Argentine guide, to whom the route through the pompas was perfectly familiar. The Singlishman had not so far forgotten his mother tongue, among mules and Indians, that he could not converse with his countrymen, and a lucky thing it was for them, as Lord Glenarvyn found it far easier to give orders than to see them executed. Pagano was still unsuccessful, making himself understood. The Catapaz, as he was called in Chilean, had two natives called Pans, and a boy about twelve years of age under him. The Pans took care of the baggage mules, and the boy led the madrina. A young mare adorned with rattling bells, which walked in front, followed by ten mules. The travelers rode seven of these, and the Catapaz another. The remaining two carried provisions, and a few bells of goods intended to secure the goodwill of the casique of the plain. The Pans walked according to their usual habit. Prearrangement had been made to ensure safety and speed, for crossing the Andes is something more than an ordinary journey. It could not be accomplished without the help of the hearty mules of the far-famed Argentine breed. Those reared in the country are much superior to their progenitors. They are not particular about their food, and only drink once a day, and they can go with ease ten leagues and eight hours. There are no ends along the road, from one ocean to another. The only vions on which travelers can regal themselves are dried meat, rice seasoned with pimento, and such game is maybe shot and rout. The torrents provide them with water in the mountains, and the rivulets in the plains, which they improve by the addition of a few drops of rum, and each man carries a supply of this in a bullock's horn called chifle. They have to be careful, however, not to indulge too freely in alcoholic drinks, as the climate itself has a peculiarly exhilarating effect on the nervous system. As for bedding, it is all contained in the saddle used by the natives called ricato. The saddle is made of sheepskin, tanned on one side, and woolly on the other, fastened by gorgeous embroidered straps. In these warm coverings, the traveler may sleep soundly and brave exposure to the damp nights. Glenarvin, an experienced traveler, who now knew how to adapt himself to the customs of other countries, adopted the chilean costume for himself and his whole party. Paganel and Robert, both alike children, though of different growth, were wild with delight as they inserted their heads in the national poncho, an immense plaid with a hole in center, and their legs in high leather boots. The mules were richly comparisoned with the Arab bit in their mouths, and long grains of plated leather, which served as a whip. The headstall of the bridle was decorated with metal ornaments, and the al forna, double sacks of gay colored linen containing the day's provisions. Paganel, distraite as usual, was flung several times before he succeeded in bestriding his good steed, but once in the saddle, his inseparable telescope on his shoulder-belt, he held on well enough, keeping his feet fast in the stirrups, and trusting entirely to the sagacity of the beast. As for Robert, his first attempt at mounting was successful, and that proved that he had the making in him of an excellent horseman. The weather was splendid as they started. The sky had deep, cloudless blue, and yet the atmosphere, so tempered by the sea breezes as to prevent any feeling of oppressive heat, they marched rapidly among the winding shore of the bay of Tel Cajueño in order to gain the extremity of the parallel thirty-mile south. No one spoke much the first day, for the smoke of the Duncan was still visible on the horizon, and the pain of parting too keenly felt. Paganel talked to himself in Spanish, asking and answering questions. The catapest, moreover, was a tachyterne man naturally, and had not been rather rendered loquacious by his calling. He hardly spoke to his pains. They understood their duties perfectly. If one of the mules stopped, they urged it on with a guttural cry, and if that proved unavailing, a good-sized pebble, thrown with unerring game, soon cured the animal's obstinacy. If a strap got loose or a rain fell, a peon came forward instantly, and throwing off his poncho, flung it over the beast's head till the accident was repaired, and the march resumed. The custom of the mule tears is to start immediately after breakfast, about eight o'clock, and not stop till they camp for the night, about four p.m. Glenarvon fell in with the practice, and the first halt was just as they arrived at Arako, situated at the very extremity of the bay, to find the extremity of this thirty-seventh degree of latitude. They could have required to proceed as far as the bay of Carnero, twenty-five miles further, but the agents of Glenarvon had already scoured that part of the coast, to repeat the exploration, would have been useless. It was, therefore, decided that Arako should be the point of departure, and they should keep on from there toward the east in a straight line. Since the weather was so favourable, and the whole party, even Robert, were in perfect health, and altogether the journey had commenced under such favourable auspices, it was deemed advisable to push forward as quickly as possible. Accordingly, the next day, they marched thirty-five miles or more, and encamped at nightfall in the banks of Rio de Biobio. The country still presented the same fertile aspect, and abounded in flowers, but animals of any sort only came inside occasionally, and there were no birds visible, except a solitary heron, or owl, or a thrush, or grebe, flying from the falcon. In beings there were none, not a native of a parrot, not even one of the guassos, the degenerate offspring of Indians and Spaniards dashed across the plain like a shadow, his flying steed dripping with blood from the cruel thrusts inflicted by the gigantic spurs of his master's naked feet. It was absolutely impossible to make inquiries when there was no one to address, and Lord Glenarvon came to the conclusion the Captain Grant must have been dragged right over the Andes into the pompous, and that it would be useless to search for him elsewhere. The only thing to be done was to wait patiently and press forward with all the speed in their power. On the seventeenth, they set out in the usual line of march, a line which it was hard work for Robert to keep. His ardor constantly compelled him to get ahead of the madrina to the great despair of his mule. Nothing but a sharp recall from Glenarvon kept the boy in proper order. The country now became more diversified, and the rising ground indicated their approach to a mountainous district. Rivers were more numerous, and came rushing noisily down the slopes. Paganel consulted his maps, and when he found any of those streams not marked, which often happened, all the fire of a geographer burned in his veins, and he would exclaim with a charming air of excation. A river, which hasn't a name, is like having no civil standing, as no existence in the eye of geographical law. He christened them forthwith, without the least hesitation, and marked them down on the map, qualifying them with the most high-sounding adjectives he could find in the Spanish language. At a language, he said, half-full and sonorous it is, it is like the metal church bells are made of, composed of seventy-eight parts of copper and twenty-two of tin, but, I say, do you make any progress in it? Asked Glenarvon. Most certainly, my dear lord. Ah, if it wasn't the accent, that wretched accent! And for want of better work, Paganel wailed away the time along the road by practicing the difficulties in pronunciation, repeating all the break-jaw words he could, the still-making geographical observations. Any questions about the country that Glenarvon might ask the Catepes was shared to be answered by the learned Frenchman before he could reply to the great astonishment of the guide, who gazed at him in bewilderment, about two o'clock that same day they came to a cross-road, and naturally enough Glenarvon inquired the name of it. It is the rap from Jumbal to Los Angeles, said Paganel. Glenarvon looked at the Catepes, who replied, quite right. And then, turning toward the geographer, he added, You have traveled in these parts before, sir? Oh, yes, said Paganel, quite gravely, on a mule. No, in an easy-chair. The Catepes could not make him out, but shrugged his shoulders and resumed his post at the head of the party. At five in the evening they stopped in a gorge of no great depth, some miles above the little town of Loha, and encamped for the night, at the foot of the Sierras, the first steeps of the great Cordilleras. CHAPTER XII. Nothing of importance had occurred hither too in the passage through Chile, but all the obstacles and difficulties incident to a mountain journey were about to crowd on the travellers now. One important question had first to be settled. Which pass would take them over the Andes, and yet not be out of their fixed route? On questioning the Catepes on the subject, he replied, There are only two practical passes I know of in this part of the Cordilleras. The pass of Areci is one undoubtedly discovered by Valdivia Mendoza, said Paganel. And that of Villarica is the other. Precisely. Well, my good fellow, both these passes have only one fault. They take us too far out of our route, either north or south. Have you no other to propose, asked the major. Certainly," replied Paganel, There is the pass of Antuco on the slope of the volcano in latitude thirty-seven degrees thirty minutes, or in other words only half a degree out of our way. That would do, but are you acquainted with this pass of Antuco, Catepes? said Glenarvin. Yes, your lordship, I have been through it, but I did not mention it, as no one goes that way but the Indian shepherds with the herds of cattle. Oh, very well, if mares and sheep and oxen can go that way, we can, so let's start it once. The signal for departure was given immediately, and they struck into the heart of the valley of Las Lejas, between great masses of chalk crystal. From this point the pass began to be difficult and even dangerous. The angles of the declivities widened and the ledges narrowed, and frightful precipices met their gaze. The mules went cautiously along, keeping their heads near the ground as if sensing the track. They marched in file. Sometimes at a sudden bend of the road the madrina would disappear, and the little caravan had to guide themselves by the distant tinkle of her bell. Often some capricious winding would bring the column in two parallel lines, and the Catepes would speak to his peons across the crevasse of not two fathoms wide, though two hundred deep, which made them an inseparable gulf. Glen Arvin followed his guide step by step. He saw that his perplexity was increasing as the way became more difficult, but did not dare to interrogate him, rightly enough perhaps, thinking that both mules and militeers were very much governed by instinct, and it was best to trust to them. About an hour longer the Catepes kept wandering about almost at hat-pazard, though always getting higher up the mountains. At last he was obliged to stop short. They were in a narrow valley, one of those gorges called by the Indians quubrods, and on reaching the end a wall of periphery rose perpendicularly before them and barred further passage. The Catepes, after vain attempts at finding an opening, dismounted, crossed his arms and waited. Glen Arvin went up to him and asked if he had lost his way. "'No, your lordship,' was the reply. "'But you are not in the pass of Antuco. We are. You are sure you are not mistaken? I am not mistaken. See, there are the remains of a fire left by the Indians, and there are the marks of the mares and the sheep. They must have gone on, then. Yes, but no more will go. The last earthquake has made the route impassable. To mules,' said the major, but not to men. "'Ah, that's your concern. I have done all I could. My mules and myself are at your service to try the other passes of the quarter-years.' And would that delay us? Three days at least.' Lord Glen Arvin listened silently. He saw the Catepes was right. His mules could go no farther. When he talked of returning, however, Glen Arvin appealed to his companions and said, "'Will you go on, in spite of all the difficulty?' "'We will follow your lordship,' replied Tom Austin. "'And even proceed you,' added Paganel. "'What is it, after all? We have only to cross the top of the mountain chain. And once over nothing can be easier of dissent than the slopes we shall find there. When we get below we shall find Bacuanos, Argentine chepards, who will guide us through the Pampas, and swift horses accustomed to gallop over the plains. Let's go forward, then, I say, and without a moment's hesitation. "'Foreward,' they all exclaimed, "'you will not go with us, then?' said Glen Arvin, to the Catepes. "'I'm the mule-teer,' was the reply. "'As you please,' said Glen Arvin. "'We can do without him,' said Paganel. "'On the other side we shall get back to the road to Antuco, and I'm quite sure I'll lead you to the foot of the mountain as straight as the best guide in the Corte Eas.' Accordingly Glen Arvin settled accounts with the Catepes, and bed farewell to him and his peons and mules. The arms and instruments, and a small stock of provisions, were divided among the seven travellers, and it was unanimously agreed that the ascent should recommend at once, and if necessary should continue part of the night. There was a very steep winding path on the left, which the mules never would have attempted. It was toilsome work, but after two hours' exertion and a great deal of roundabout climbing, the little party found themselves once more in the pass of Antuco. They were not far now from the highest peak of the Corte Eas, but there was not the slightest trace of any beaten path. The entire region had been overturned by recent shocks of earthquake, and all they could do was to keep on climbing higher and higher. Well was rather disconcerted at finding no way out to the other side of the chain, and laid his account with having to undergo great fatigue before the topmost peaks of the Andes could be reached, for their mean height is between eleven and twelve thousand six hundred feet. Fortunately, the weather was calm and the sky clear, in addition to the season being favourable, but in winter, from May to October, such an ascent would have been impracticable. The intense cold quickly kills travellers, and those who even managed to hold out against it fall victims to the violence of the temporales, a sort of hurricane peculiar to those regions which yearly feels the abyss of the Corte Eas with dead bodies. They went on toiling steadily upward all night, hoisting themselves up almost inaccessible plateaus and leaping over broad deep crevasses. They had no ropes, but arms linked in arms supplied the lack, and shoulders served for ladders. The strength now of Mulruddy and the dexterity of Wilson were taxed heavily. These two brave Scots multiplied themselves, so to speak. Many a time, but for their devotion and courage, the small band could not have gone on. Glenarvin never lost sight of young Robert, for his age and vivacity made him impudent. Paganel was a true Frenchman in his impetuous ardour, and hurried furiously along. The major on the contrary only went as quick as was necessary, neither more nor less, aiming without the least apparent exertion. Perhaps he hardly knew, indeed, that he was climbing at all, or perhaps he fancied he was descending. The whole aspect of the region had now completely changed. Huge blocks of glittering ice, of a bluish tint on some of the declivities, stood up on all sides, reflecting the early light of mourn. The ascent became very perilous. They were obliged to reconnoitre carefully before making a single step on account of the crevasses. Paganel took the lead and tried the ground with his feet. His companions followed exactly in his footprints, lowering their voices to a whisper, as the least sound would disturb the currents of air, and might cause the fall of the masses of snow suspended in the air seven or eight hundred feet above their heads. They had come now to the region of shrubs and brishes, which higher still gave place to grasses and cacti. At eleven thousand feet all trace of vegetation had disappeared. They had only stopped once to rest and snatch a hurried meal to recruit their strength. With superhuman courage the ascent was then resumed amid increasing dangers and difficulties. They were forced to bestride sharp peaks and leap over chasms so deep that they did not dare to look down them. In many places wooden crosses marked the scene of some great catastrophes. About two o'clock they came to an immense barren plain without a sign of vegetation. The air was dry and the sky unclouded blue. At this elevation rain is unknown and vapours only condense into snow or hail. Here and there peaks of porphyry or basalt pierce through the white winding sheet like the bones of a skeleton, and at intervals fragments of quartz or gneese, loosened by the action of the air, fell down with a faint dull sound, which in a denser atmosphere would have been almost imperceptible. However in spite of their courage the strength of the little band was giving way. Glen Arvin regretted they had gone so far into the interior of the mountain when he saw how exhausted his men had become. Young Robert held out manfully, but he could not go much further. At three o'clock Glen Arvin stopped and said, We must rest. He knew if he did not himself propose it no one else would. Rest, rejoined Paganel, we have no place of shelter. It is absolutely necessary, however, if it were only for Robert. No, no, said the courageous lad, I can still walk, don't stop. You shall be carried, my boy, but we must get to the other side of the quarter, yes, cost what it may. There we may find perhaps some hut to cover us. All I ask is a two hours longer march. Are you all of the same opinion? said Glen Arvin. Yes, was the unanimous reply, and Mulradi answered, I'll carry the boy. The march eastward was forthwith resumed. They had a frightful height to climb, yet to gain the topmost peaks. The rarefaction of the atmosphere produced that painful oppression known by the name of Punya. Drops of blood stood on the gums and lips, and respiration became hurried and difficult. However strong the will of these brave men might be, the time came at last when their physical powers failed, and vertigo, that terrible malady in the mountains, destroyed not only their bodily strength but their moral energy. Falls became frequent, and those who fell could not rise again, but dragged themselves along on their knees. But just as exhaustion was about to make short work of any further ascent, and Glen Arvin's heart began to sink as he thought of the snow lying far as the eye could reach, and of the intense cold, and saw the shadow of night fast overspreading the desolate peaks, and knew they had not a roof to shelter them, suddenly the major stopped and said, in a calm voice, a hut. CHAPTER XIII A SEDDEN DESCENT Anyone else but McNabs might have passed the hut a hundred times and gone all round it, and even over it, without suspecting its existence, it was covered with snow and scarcely distinguishable from the surrounding rocks, but Wilson and Moretti succeeded in digging it out and clearing the opening after half an hour's hard work to the great joy of the whole party who eagerly took possession of it. They found it was a casuca constructed by the Indians, made of adobe, a species of bricks baked in the sun. Its form was that of a cube, twelve feet on each side, and it stood on a block of basalt. A stone stair led up to the door, the only opening, and narrow as this door was, the hurricane and snow, and how found their way in when the temporales were unchained in the mountains. Then people could easily find room in it, and though the walls might be none too watertight in the rainy season, at this time of the year, at any rate it was sufficient protection against the intense cold, which, according to the thermometer, was ten degrees below zero. Besides, there was a sort of fireplace in it, with the chimney of bricks, badly enough put together certainly, but still it allowed of a fire being lighted. This will shelter us at any rate, said Glenarvin, even if it is not very comfortable. Providence has led us to it, and we can only be thankful. Why, it is a perfect palace, I call it, said Paganel. We only want flunkies and cordiers. We shall do capital here, especially when there is a good fire blazing on the hearth, for we are quite as cold as we are hungry. For my part, I would rather see a good faggot just now than a slice of venison. Well, Tom, we'll try and get some combustible or other, said Paganel. Combustibles, on the top of the cordieres, exclaimed Mulrady, in a dubious tone. Since there is a chimney in the Kosuka, said the Major, the probability is that we shall find something to burn in it. Our friend McNabs is right, said Glenarvin. Get everything in readiness for supper, and I'll go out and turn woodcutter. Wilson and I will go with you, said Paganel. Do you want me, asked Robert, getting up. No, my brave boy. Rest yourself. You'll be a man when others are only children at your age, replied Glenarvin. Unreaching the little mound of porphyry, Glenarvin and two companions left the Kosuka, in spite of the perfect calmness of the atmosphere, the cold was stinging. Paganel consulted his barometer, and found that the depression of the mercury corresponded to an elevation of eleven thousand feet, only nine hundred and ten meters lower than Mount Blanc. But if these mountains had presented the difficulties of the giant of the Swiss Alps, not one of the travelers would have crossed the great chain of the New World. Unreaching a little mound of porphyry, Glenarvin and Paganel stopped to gaze about them and scan the horizon on all sides. They were now on the summit of the Nevadas of the Cordilleras, and could see over an area of forty miles. The valley of the Colorado was already sunk in shadow, and night was fast drying her mantle over the eastern slopes of the Andes. The western side was illuminated by the rays of the setting sun, and peaks and glaciers flashed back as golden beams with dazzling gradients. On the south, the view was magnificent. Across the wild valley of the Torbidos, about two miles distance, rose the volcano of Antuca. The mountain roared like some enormous monster, and vomited red smoke, mingled with torrents of city flame. The surrounding peaks appeared on fire. Showers of red hot stones, clouds of reddish vapor and rockets of lava, all combined, presented the impairments of glowing sparkling streams. The splendor of the spectacle increased every instant as night deepened, and the whole sky became lighted up with a dazzling reflection of the blazing crater, while the sun, gradually becoming shorn of his sunset glories, disappeared like a star lost in the distant darkness of the horizon. Paganel and Glenarvon would have remained long enough gazing at the sublime struggle between the fires of Earth and Heaven if the more practical Wilson had not reminded them of the business on hand. There was no what to be found, however, but fortunately the rocks were covered with the poor, dry species of lichen. Of this they made an ample provision, as well as of a plant called Loretta, the root of which burns tolerably well. This precious combustible was carried back to the Kosuga and heaped up on the hearth. It was a difficult matter to kindle it, though, and still more to keep it alight. The air was so rarified that there was scarcely oxygen enough in it to support combustion. At least this was the reason assigned by the major. By way of compensation, however, he added, water will boil at less than 100 degrees heat. It will come to the point of abolition before 99 degrees. McNabs was right, as a thermometer proved, for it was plunged into the kettle when the water boiled, and the mercury only rose to 99 degrees. Coffee was soon ready, and eagerly gulped down by everybody. The dry meat certainly seemed poor-fair, and Paganel couldn't help saying, I tell you what, some grilled llama wouldn't be bad with this, would it? They say that the llama is subtle for the ox and the sheep, and I should like to know if it is, in an elementary respect. What, replied the major, you're not content with your supper, most learned Paganel? Enchanted with it, my brave major, still I must confess I should not say no to a dish of llama. You are a saberite. I plead guilty to the charge, but come now. They call me that. You wouldn't sulk at a beefsteak yourself, would you? Probably not. And if you were asked to lie and wait for a llama, notwithstanding the cold and the darkness, you would do it without the least hesitation? Of course, and if it will give you the slightest pleasure. His companions had hardly time to thank him for his ablodging good nature, when distant and prolonged howls broke on their air, plainly not proceeding from one or two solitary animals, but from a whole troop and one, moreover, that was rapidly approaching. Providence had sent them a supper, as well as led them to a hut. This was the geographer's conclusion, but Glenarvin damped his joy somewhat by remarking that the quadrupeds of the Cordilleras are never met with in such a high latitude. Then where can these animals come from? Asked Tom Austin. Don't you hear them getting nearer? An avalanche suggested Mulrady impossible return, Baganel. That is regular howling. Let us go out and see, said Glenarvin. Yes, and be ready for hunting, replied McNabs, arming himself with his carbine. They all rushed forthwith out of the Cachuca. Night had completely set in, dark and starry. The moon, now in her last quarter, had not yet risen. The peaks on the north and east had disappeared from view, and nothing was visible save the fantastic silhouette of some towering rocks here and there. The howls, and clearly the howls of terrified animals, were redoubled. They proceeded from that part of the Cordilleras, which lay in darkness. What could be going on here? Suddenly a furious avalanche came down, an avalanche of living animals mad with fear. The whole plateau seemed to tremble. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of these animals, and in spite of the rarefied atmosphere their noise was deafening. Were they wild beasts from the pompas, or herds of llamas and vicuanus? Glenarvin, McNabs, Robert, Austin, and the two soldiers had just time to thread themselves flat on the ground before they swept past like a whirlwind. Only a few paces distant. Paganel, who had remained standing, to take advantage of his peculiar powers of sight, was knocked down into twinkling. At the same moment the report of firearms was heard. The Major had fired, and it seemed to him that an animal had fallen close by, and that the whole herd, yelling louder than ever, had rushed down and disappeared among the declivities lighted up by the reflection of the volcano. Ah! I've got them! said a voice, the voice of Paganel. Got what? asked Glenarvin. My spectacles was the reply. One might expect to lose that much in such a tumult as this. You were not wounded, I hope? No, only knocked down. But by what? By this, replied the Major. Holding up the animal he had killed, they all hastened eagerly into the hut, to examine McNabs' prize by the light of the fire. It was a pretty creature, like a small camel without a hump. The head was small and the body flattened. The legs were long and slender, the skin fine and the hair the color of Café à l'E. Paganel had scarcely looked at it before he exclaimed, ìEguinaco! What sort of an animal is that? asked Glenarvin. When you can eat! And it is good savoury meat, I assure you. A dish of Olympus! I knew we should have fresh meat for supper, and such meat. But who is going to cut up the beast? I will, said Wilson. ìWell, Iíll undertake to cook it, said Paganel. Can we cook? Then, I am unsure of Paganel, asked Robert. I should think so, my boy. I am a Frenchman, and in every Frenchman there is a cook. Five minutes afterward Paganel began to grill large slices of venison from the embers made by the use of the lariatus. And in about ten minutes a dish was ready, which he served up to his companions by the tempting name of ìEguinaco cutletsî. No one stood on ceremony, but fell to with a hearty goodwill. To the absolute stupefication of the geographer, however, the first mouthful was greeted with the general grimace, and such exclamations as ìtough! It is horrible! It is not edible!î The porcevant was obliged to own that his cutlets could not be relished, even by hungry men. They began to banter him about his Olympian dish, and indulge in jokes at his expense. But all he cared about was to find out how it happened that the flesh of the ìEguinacoî, which was certainly good and edible food, had turned out so badly in his hands. But last light broke in on him, and he called out, ìI see through it now. Yes, I see through it. I have found out the secret now. The meat was too long kept, wasn't it?î asked McNabs quietly. ìNo, but the meat had walked too much. How could I have forgotten that?î ìWhat do you mean?î asked Tom Austin. ìI mean this. The ìEguinacoî is only good for eating when it is killed in a state of rest. If it has been long hunted, and gone over much ground before it is captured, it is no longer edible. I can affirm the fact by the mere taste that this animal has come a great distance, and consequently the whole herd has. ìYou are certain of this?î asked Glenarvin. ìAbsolutely certain.î ìBut what could have frightened the creature so, and driven them from their haunts when they ought to have been quietly sleeping? Thatís the question, my dear Glenarvin. I could not possibly answer. Take my advice, and let us go to sleep without troubling our heads about it. I say, major, shall we go to sleep? Yes, weíll go to sleep, Paganel. Each one thereupon wrapped himself up in his poncho, and the fire was made up for the night. Loud snores and every tune and key soon resounded from all sides of the hut. The deep base contribution of Paganel, completing the harmony. But Glenarvin could not sleep. Secret uneasiness kept him in a continual state of wakefulness. His thoughts reverted involuntarily to those frightened animals, flying in one common direction, impelled by one common terror. They could not be pursued by wild beasts, for at such an elevation there were almost none to be met with. And of hunters still fewer. What terror that could have driven them among the precipices of the Andes? Glenarvin felt a presentiment of approaching danger. But gradually he fell into a half-drazy state, and his apprehensions were lulled. Hope took the place of fear. He saw himself on the morrow of the plains of the Andes, where the search would actually commence, and perhaps success was close at hand. He thought of Captain Grant and his two sailors and their deliverance from curl-bondage. As these visions passed rapidly through his mind, every now and then he was roused by the crackling of the fire, or sparks flying out, or some little jet of flame would suddenly flare up and illumine the faces of his slumbering companions. Then his presentiments returned in greater strength than before, and he listened anxiously to the sounds outside the hut. At certain intervals he fancied he could hear rumbling noises in the distance, dull and threatening like the mutterings of thunder from a storm. There surely must be a storm raging down below at the foot of the mountains. He got up and went out to sea. The moon was rising. The atmosphere was pure and calm, not a cloud visible either above or below. Here and there was a passing reflection from the flames of Antuca, but neither storm nor lightning and myrades of bright stars studded the zenith. Still the rumbling noises continued. They seemed to meet together and cross the chain of the andes. Glenarvin returned to the casuga more easily than ever, questioning within himself as to the connection between these sounds and the flight of the guanacos. He looked at his watch and found the time was about two in the morning. As he had no certainty, however, of any immediate danger, he did not wake his companions, who were sleeping soundly after their fatigue, and after a little dozed off himself and slumbered heavily for some hours. All of a sudden a violent crash made him start to his feet. A deafening noise fell on his ears, like the roar of artillery. He felt the ground giving way beneath him and the casuga rocked to and fro and opened. He shouted to his companions, but they were already awake, and tumbling, pale mel over each other. They were being rapidly dragged down a steep declivity. Day dawned and revealed a terrible scene. The form of the mountains changed in an instant. Cones were cut off. The peaks disappeared as if some trap had opened at their base. Owing to a peculiar phenomenon of the cordieras, an enormous mass many miles in extent had been displaced entirely and was speeding down toward the plain. An earthquake exclaimed Paganel. He was not mistaken. It was one of those cataclysms frequent in Chile, and in this very region where Capiapas had been twice destroyed and Santiago four times laid in ruins in fourteen years. The region of the globe is so underlaid with volcanic fires, and the volcanoes of recent origin are such insufficient safety valves for the subterranean vapors that shocks are a frequent occurrence and are called by the people Trembloris, the plateau to which the seven men were clinging. Holding on by tufts of lichen and Gideon terrified in the extreme was rushing down the declivity with the swiftness of an express at the rate of fifty miles an hour. Not a cry was possible, nor an attempt to get off or stop. They could not even have heard themselves speak. The internal rumblings and crashes of the avalanches, the fall of the masses of granite and basalt, and the whirlwind of pulverized snow made all communication impossible. Sometimes they went perfectly smoothly along without jolts or jerks, and sometimes on the contrary the plateau would reel and roll like a ship in a storm coasting past abysses in which fragments of the mountain were falling, tearing up trees by the roots, and levelling as if with the keen edge of an immense sky, every projecton of the declivity. How long this indescribable descent would last no one could calculate, nor what it would end in ultimately. None of the party knew whether the rest were still alive, whether one or another were not already lying in the depths of some abyss. Almost breathless with the swift motion frozen with the cold air, which pierced through them, and blinded with the whirling snow, they gasped for breath and became exhausted and nearly inanimate, only retaining their hold of the rocks by a powerful instinct of self-preservation. Suddenly a tremendous shock pitched them right off and sent them rolling to the very foot of the mountain the plateau had stopped. For some minutes no one stirred. At last one of the party picked himself up, and stood on his feet, stunned by the shock, but still firm on his legs. This was the major. He shook off the blinding snow and looked around him. His companions lay in a closed circle, like the shots from a gun that had just been discharged, piled one on top of another. The major counted them. All were there except one. That one was Robert Grant. End of Book 1, Chapter 13. Church of the Castaways, or The Children of Captain Grant, by Jules Verne. Book 1, Chapter 14, Providentially Rescued. The eastern side of the Cordilleras of the Andes consists of a succession of lengthened declivities which sloped down almost insensibly to the plain. The soil is carpeted with rich herbage and adorned with magnificent trees, among which in great numbers were apple trees planted at the time of the conquest and golden with fruit. There were literally perfect forests of these. This district was, in fact, just a corner of fertile Normandy. The sudden transition from a desert to an oasis, from snowy peaks to verdant plains, from winter to summer, cannot fail to strike the traveler's eye. The ground, moreover, had recovered its immobility. The trembling had ceased, though there was little doubt the forces below the surface were carrying on their devastating work further on, for shocks of earthquake are always occurring in some part or other of the Andes. This time the shock had been one of extreme violence. The outline of the mountains was wholly altered, and the pompous guides would have sought vainly for the accustomed landmarks. A magnificent day had dawned. The sun was just rising from his ocean bed and his bright eyes streamed already over the Argentine plains and ran across to the Atlantic. It was about eight o'clock. Lord Glenarvan and his companions were gradually restored to animation by the major's efforts. They had been completely stunned, but had sustained no injury, whatever. The descent of the Cordilleras was accomplished, and as Dame Nature had conveyed them at her own expense, they could only have praised her method of locomotion if one of their number, and that one, the feeblest and youngest, the child of the party, had not been missing at the roll call. The brave boy was beloved by everybody. Pajanel was particularly attached to him, and so was the major, with all his apparent coldness. As for Glenarvan, he was in absolute despair when he heard of his disappearance and pictured to himself the child lying in some deep abyss, wildly crying for succor. We must go and look for him, and look till we find him, he exclaimed, almost unable to keep back his tears. We cannot leave him to his fate. Every valley and precipice and abyss must be searched through and through. I will have a rope fastened round my waist and go down myself. I insist upon it. You understand I insist upon it. Heaven grant Robert may be still alive. If we lose the boy, how could we ever dare to meet the father? What right have we to save the captain at the cost of his son's life? Glenarvan's companions heard him in silence. He sought to read hope in their eyes, but they did not venture to meet his gaze. At last he said, Well, you hear what I say, but you make no response. Do you mean to tell me that you have no hope, not the slightest? Again there was silence till McNabs asked, Which of you can recollect when Robert disappeared? No one could say. Well, then, resumed the major, You know this at any rate. Who was the child beside during our descent of the Cordilleras? Beside me, replied Wilson. Very well. Up till what moment did you see him beside you? Try if you can remember. All that I can recollect is that Robert Grant was still by my side, holding fast by a tuft of lichen less than two minutes before the shock which finished our descent. Less than two minutes? Mind what you are saying. I daresay a minute seemed a very long time to you. Are you sure you are not making a mistake? I don't think I am. No, it was just about two minutes, as I tell you. Very well, then. And was Robert on your right or left? On my left I remember that his poncho brushed past my face. And with regard to us, how were you placed? On the left, also. Then Robert must have disappeared on this side, said the major, turning toward the mountain and pointing toward the right. And I should judge, he added, considering the time that has elapsed that the spot where he fell was about two miles up. Between that height and the ground is where we must search, dividing the different zones among us, and it is there we shall find him. Not another word was spoken. The six men commenced their explorations, keeping constantly to the line they had made in their descent, examining closely every fissure and going into the very depths of the abysses, choked up, though they partly were with fragments of the plateau. And more than one came out again with garments torn to rags and feet and hands bleeding. For many long hours these brave fellows continued their search without dreaming of taking rest. But all in vain. The child had not only met his death on the mountain, but found a grave which some enormous rock had sealed forever. About one o'clock Glenarvin and his companions met again in the valley. Glenarvin was completely crushed with grief. He scarcely spoke. The only words that escaped his lips amid his sighs were, I shall not go away. I shall not go away. No one of the party but could enter into his feeling and respect it. Let us wait, said Pajanel to the Major and Tom Austin. We will take a little rest and recruit our strength. We need it anyway, either to prolong our search or continue our route. Yes, and as Edwards wishes it, we will rest. He has still hope, but what is it he hopes? Who knows, said Tom Austin. Poor Robert, replied Pajanel, brushing away a tear. The valley was thickly wooded, and the Major had no difficulty in finding a suitable place of encampment. He chose a clump of tall carob trees, under which they arranged their few belongings. Few indeed, for all they had were sundry wraps and firearms, and a little dried meat and rice. Not far off there was a Rio, which supplied them with water, though it was still somewhat muddy after the disturbance of the avalanche. Mulrady soon had a fire lighted on the grass and a warm, refreshing beverage to offer his master. But Glenarvon refused to touch it, and lay stretched on his poncho in a state of absolute frustration. So the day passed, and night came on, calm and peaceful as the preceding had been. While his companions were lying motionless, though wide awake, Glenarvon betook himself once more to the slopes of the Cordilleras, listening intently in hope that some cry for help would fall upon his ear. He ventured far up, in spite of his being alone, straining his ear with painful eagerness to catch the faintest sound, and calling aloud in an agony of despair. But he heard nothing save the beatings of his own heart, though he wandered all night on the mountain. Sometimes the Major followed him, and sometimes Pajanel ready to lend a helping hand among the slippery peaks and dangerous precipices, among which he was dragged by his rash and useless imprudence. All his efforts were in vain, however, and to his repeated cries of, Robert! Robert! Echo was the only response. Day dawned, and it now became a matter of necessity to go and bring back the poor Lord from the distant plateau, even against his will. His despair was terrible. Who could dare to speak of quitting this fatal valley? Yet provisions were done, and Argentine guides and horses were not far off to lead them to the pompous. To go back would be more difficult than to go forward. Besides, the Atlantic Ocean was the appointed meeting place with the Duncan. These were strong reasons against any long delay. Indeed, it was best for all parties to continue the route as soon as possible. McNabs undertook the task of rousing Lord Glenarvon from his grief. For a long time his cousin seemed not to hear him. At last he shook his head and said almost inaudibly, Did you say we must start? Yes, we must start. Wait one hour longer. Yes, we'll wait another, replied the Major. The hour slipped away, and again Glenarvon begged for longer grace. To hear his imploring tones one might have thought him a criminal begging a respite. So the day passed on till it was almost noon. McNabs hesitated now no longer, but acting on the advice of the rest told his cousin that start they must, for all their lives depended on prompt action. Yes, yes, replied Glenarvon, let us start. Let us start. But he spoke without looking at McNabs. His gaze was fixed intently on a certain dark speck in the heavens. Suddenly he exclaimed extending his arm and keeping it motionless as if petrified. There, there, look, look! All eyes turned immediately in the direction indicated so imperiously. The dark speck was increasing visibly. It was evidently some bird hovering above them. Akhandar, said Pajanel. Yes, Akhandar, replied Glenarvon. Who knows? He is coming down. He is gradually getting lower. Let us wait. Pajanel was not mistaken. It was assuredly Akhandar. This magnificent bird is the king of the southern Andes and was formally worshipped by the Incas. It attains an extraordinary development in those regions. Its strength is prodigious. It is frequently driven oxen over the edge of precipices down into the depths of Abyss. It sees a sheep and kids and young calves browsing on the plains and carries them off to inaccessible heights. It hovers in the air far beyond the utmost limits of human sight and its powers of vision are so great that it can discern the smallest objects on the earth beneath. What had this Akhandar discovered then? Could it be the corpse of Robert Grant? Who knows? repeated Glenarvon, keeping his eye immovably fixed on the bird. The enormous creature was fast approaching, sometimes hovering for a while with outspread wings and sometimes falling with the swiftness of inert bodies in space. Presently he began to wheel round in wide circles. They could see him distinctly. He measured more than fifteen feet and all wings bore him along with scarcely the slightest effort for it is the prerogative of large birds to fly with calm majesty while insects have to beat their wings a thousand times a second. The Major and Wilson had seized their carbines but Glenarvon stopped them by a gesture. The Akhandar was encircling in his flight a sort of inaccessible plateau about a quarter a mile up the side of the mountain. He wheeled round and round with dazzling rapidity opening and shutting his formidable claws and shaking his cartilaginous carbuncle or comb. It is there, there exclaimed Glenarvon. A sudden thought flashed across his mind and with a terrible cry he called out, Fire! Fire! Oh, suppose Robert were still alive, that bird! But it was too late. The Akhandar had dropped out of sight behind the crags. Only a second passed, a second that seemed in age and the enormous bird reappeared carrying a heavy load and flying at a slow rate. A cry of horror rose on all sides. It was a human body the Akhandar had in his claws dangling in the air and apparently lifeless. It was Robert Grant. The bird had seized him by his clothes and had him hanging already at least one hundred and fifty feet in the air. He had caught sight of the travellers and was flapping his wings violently endeavouring to escape with his heavy prey. Oh, would that Robert were dashed to pieces against the rocks rather than be a— He did not finish his sentence. But seizing Wilson's carbine took aim at the Akhandar. His arm was too trembling, however, to keep the weapon steady. Let me do it, said the Major. And with a calm eye and sure hands and motionless body he aimed at the bird, now three hundred feet above him in the air. But before he had pulled the trigger the report of a gun resounded from the bottom of the valley. A white smoke rose from between two masses of basalt Akhandar shot in the head, gradually turned over and began to fall supported by his great wings spread out like a parachute. He had not let go of his prey but gently sank down with it on the ground about ten paces from the stream. We've got him! We've got him! shouted Glenn Arvin. And without waiting to see where the shot so providentially came from the Akhandar followed by his companions. When they reached the spot the bird was dead and the body of Robert was quite concealed beneath his mighty wings. Glenn Arvin flung himself on the corpse and dragging it from the Akhandar's grasp placed it flat on the grass and knelt down and put his ear to the heart. But a wilder cry of joy never broke from human lips than Glenn Arvin uttered the next moment as he started to his feet and exclaimed, He is alive! He is still alive! The boy's clothes were stripped off in an instant and his face bathed with cold water. He moved slightly, opened his eyes, looked round and murmured, Oh my lord! Is it you? he said. My father! Glenn Arvin could not reply. He was speechless with emotion and kneeling down by the side of the child so miraculously saved burst into tears. CHAPTER XV Thou Cave Robert had no sooner escaped one terrible danger than he ran the risk of another scarcely less formidable. He was almost torn to pieces by his friends for the brave fellows were so overjoyed at the sight of him that in spite of his weak state none of them would be satisfied without giving him a hug. However, it seemed as if rough hugging did not hurt sick people. At any rate it did not hurt Robert, but quite the contrary. But the first joy of deliverance over the next thought was who was the deliverer. Of course it was the Major who suggested looking for him and he was not far off, for about fifty paces from the Rio a man of very tall stature was seen motionless on the lowest crags at the foot of the mountain. A long gun was lying at his feet. He had broad shoulders and long hair bound together with leather thongs. He was over six feet in height. His bronzed face was red between the eyes and mouth, black by the lower eyelids and white on the forehead. He wore the costume of the Patagonians on the frontiers consisting of a splendid cloak ornamented with scarlet air-bests made of the skins of the guanico, sewed together with ostrich tendons and with the silky wool turned up on the edge. Under this mantle was a garment of fox skin fastened round the waist and coming down to a point in front. A little bag hung from his belt containing colors for painting his face. His boots were pieces of oxide fastened round the ankles by straps across. This Patagonian had a splendid face, indicating real intelligence notwithstanding the medley of colors by which it was disfigured. His waiting attitude was full of dignity, indeed, to see him standing grave and motionless on his pedestal of rocks one might have taken him for a statue of Sang-Foix. As soon as the Major perceived him he pointed him out to Glenarvin, who ran toward him immediately. The Patagonian came two steps forward to meet him and Glenarvin caught hold of his hand and pressed it in his own. It was impossible to mistake the meaning of the action for the noble face of the scotch lord so beamed with gratitude that no words were needed. The stranger bowed slightly in return and said a few words that neither Glenarvin nor the Major could understand. The Patagonian surveyed them attentively for a few minutes and spoke again in another language, but the second idiom was no more intelligible than the first. Certain words, however, caught Glenarvin's ear as sounding like Spanish, a few sentences of which he could speak. Espanyol, he asked. The Patagonian nodded in reply, a movement of the head which has an affirmative significance among all nations. That's good, said the Major. Our friend Paganel will be the very man for him. It is lucky for us that he took it into his head to learn Spanish. Paganel was called forthwith. He came at once and saluted the stranger with all the grace of a Frenchman. But his compliments were lost on the Patagonian for he did not understand a single syllable. However, on being told how things stood he began in Spanish and opening his mouth as wide as he could, the better to articulate, said, You are a brave man. The native listened but made no reply. He doesn't understand, said the Geographer. Perhaps you haven't the right accent, suggested the Major. That's just it. Convound the accent. Once more, Paganel repeated his compliments but with no better success. I'll change the phrase, he said, and in slow deliberate tones he went on, some duvita un patigo, a Patagonian undoubtedly. No response still. Dizem, said Paganel, answer me. But no answer came. Vos compriendes? Do you understand? shouted Paganel at the very top of his voice as if he would burst his throat. Evidently the Indian did not understand, for he replied in Spanish, No comprendo, I do not understand. It was Paganel's turn now to be amazed. He pushed his spectacles right down over his nose as if greatly irritated and said, I'll be hanged if I can make out one word of his infernal patois. It's a Reconian, that's certain. Not a bit of it, said Glenarvin. It was Spanish, he spoke. And addressing the Patagonian he repeated the word, Espanyol? Spanish? C-C. Yes, yes, replied the Indian. Paganel's surprise became absolute stupification. The Major and his cousin exchanged sly glances and McNabb said, mischievously, with a look of fun on his face, Ah, ah, my worthy friend, is this another of your misadventures? You seem to have quite a monopoly of them. What? said Paganel, pricking up his ear. Yes, it's clear enough the man speaks Spanish. He? Yes, he certainly speaks Spanish. Perhaps it is some other language you have been studying all this time instead of—but Paganel would not allow him to proceed. He shrugged his shoulders and said stiffly, You go a little too far, Major. Well, how is it that you don't understand him then? Why, of course, because the man speaks badly, replied the learned geographer, getting impatient. He speaks badly, that is to say, because you can't understand him. Returned the Major coolly. Come, come, McNabbs, put England Arvin. Your supposition is quite inadmissible. However distraught our friend Paganel is, it is hardly likely he would study one language for another. Well, Edward, or rather you, my good Paganel, explain it then. I explain nothing. I give proof. Here is the book I use daily to practice myself in the difficulties of the Spanish language. Examine it for yourself, Major. He said, handing him a volume in a very ragged condition, which he had brought up after a long rummage from the depths of one of his numerous pockets. Now you can see whether I am imposing on you. He continued indignantly. And what's the name of this book? Asked the Major as he took it from his hands. The Luciides, an admirable epic which— The Luciides, exclaimed Glen Arvin. Yes, my friend, the Luciides of the great Camuns, neither more nor less. Camuns, repeated Glen Arvin, but Paganel, my unfortunate fellow, Camuns was a Portuguese. It is Portuguese you've been learning for the last six weeks. Camuns, Luciides, Portuguese! Paganel could not say more. He looked vexed, while his companions, who had gathered round, broke out in a furious burst of laughter. The India never moved a muscle of his face. He quietly awaited the explanation of this incomprehensible mirth. Fool, idiot that I am, at last uttered Paganel, is it really a fact? You're not joking with me. It is what I have actually been doing. Why, it is the second confusion of tongues, like babble. Ah, me! a lack a day! My friends, what is to become of me? To start for India and arrive at Chile. To learn Spanish and talk Portuguese. Why, if I go on like this, some day I shall be throwing myself out of the window instead of my cigar. To hear Paganel bemoan his misadventures and see his comical disconfiture would have upset anyone's gravity. Besides, he set the example himself and said, Laugh away, my friends, laugh as loud as you like. You can't laugh at me half as much as I laugh at myself. But I say, said the Major, after a minute. This doesn't alter the fact that we have no interpreter. Oh, don't distress yourself about that, replied Paganel. Portuguese and Spanish are so much alike that I made a mistake, but this very resemblance will be a great help toward rectifying it. In a short time I shall be able to thank the Patagonian in the language he speaks so well. Paganel was right. He soon managed to exchange a few words with the stranger and found out, even that his name was Thalcave, a word that signified in a Ricanian, the Thunderer. This surname had no doubt come from his skill in handling firearms. But what rejoiced Glenarvon most was to learn that he was a guide by occupation and, moreover, a guide across the Pampas. To his mind, the meeting with him was so providential that he could not now doubt of the success of their enterprise. The deliverance of Captain Grant seemed an accomplished fact. When the party went back to Robert, the boy held out his arms to the Patagonian, who silently laid his hand on his head, and proceeded to examine him with the greatest care, gently feeling each of his aching limbs. Then he went down to the Rio and gathered a few handfuls of wild celery, which grew on the banks, with which he rubbed the child's body all over. He handled him with the most exquisite delicacy, and his treatment so revived the lad's strength that it was soon evident that a few hours' rest would set him all right. It was accordingly decided that they should encamp for the rest of the day in the ensuing night. Two grave questions, moreover, had to be settled, where to get food and means of transport. Provisions and mules were both lacking. Happily they had Thalcave, however, a practised guide, and one of the most intelligent of his class. He undertook to find all that was needed, and offered to take him to a told area of Indians, not further than four miles off at most, where he could get supplies of all he wanted. This proposition was partly made by gestures, and partly by a few Spanish words which Paganel managed to make out. His offer was accepted, and Glenarvin and his learned friends started off with him at once. They walked at a good pace for an hour and a half, and had to make great strides to keep up with the giant Thalcave. The road lay through a beautiful fertile region, abounding in rich pastures, where a hundred thousand cattle might have fed comfortably. Large ponds, connected by an invisible labyrinth of rios, amply watered these plains and produced their greenness. Swans with black heads were disporting in the water, meeting possession with the numerous intruders which gambled over the lanyos. The feathered tribes were of most brilliant plumage, and of marvelous variety and deafening noise. The Issacus, a graceful sort of dove with gray feathers streaked with white, and the yellow cardinals were flitting about in the trees like moving flowers, while overhead pigeons, sparrows, chingolos, bugueros, and monguitas were flying swiftly along, rending the air with their piercing cries. Paganal's admiration increased with every step, and he had nearly exhausted his vocabulary of adjectives by his loud exclamations to the astonishment of the Patagonian to whom the birds and the swans and the prairies were everyday things. The learned geographer was so lost in delight that he seemed hardly to have started before they came inside of the Indian camp, or Tullaria, situated in the heart of a valley. About thirty nomadic Indians were living there in rude cabins made of branches, pastoring immense herd of milch-cows, sheep, oxen, and horses. They went from one prairie to another, always finding a well-spread table for their four-footed guests. These nomads were a hybrid type of arukins, pehu-enches, and alkas. They were Ando-Peruvians of an olive tint, of medium stature and massive form, with a low forehead, almost circular face, thin lips, high cheekbones, effeminate features, and cold expression. As a whole they are about the least interesting of the Indians. However it was their herds Glenarvin wanted, not themselves. As long as he could get beef and horses he cared for nothing else. Thalcave did the bargaining. In exchange for seven ready-saddled horses of the Argentine breed, one hundred pounds of charkey, or dried meat, several measures of rice, and leather bottles for water, the Indians agreed to take twenty ounces of gold as they could not get wine or rum, which they would have preferred, though they were perfectly acquainted with the value of gold. Glenarvin wished to purchase an eighth horse for the Patagonian, but he gave him to understand that it would be useless. They got back to the camp in less than half an hour, and were hailed with acclimations by the whole party, or rather the provisions and horses were. They were all hungry, and ate heartily of the welcome viens. Robert took a little food with the rest. He was fast recovering strength. The close of the day was spent in complete repose and pleasant talk about the dear absent ones. Paganel never quitted the Indian side. It was not that he was so glad to see a real Patagonian, by whom he looked a perfect pygmy, a Patagonian who might have almost rivaled the Emperor Maxime, and that Congo Negro seen by the learned Vanderbrock, both eight feet high. But he caught up Spanish phrases from the Indian and studied the language without a book this time, gesticulating at a great rate all the grand sonorous words that fell on his ear. If I don't catch the accent, he said to the major, it won't be my fault. But who would have said to me that it was a Patagonian who would teach me Spanish one day? CHAPTER XVI. THE NEWS OF THE LOST CAPTAIN Next day, the twenty-second of October, at eight o'clock in the morning, Thal Cave gave the signal for departure. Between the twenty-second and forty-second degrees, the Argentine soil slopes eastward, and all the travelers had to do was follow the slope right down to the sea. Glenarvin had supposed Thal Cave's refusal of a horse was that he preferred walking, as some guides do, but he was mistaken. For just as they were ready, the Patagonian gave a peculiar whistle, and immediately a magnificent steed of the pure Argentine breed came bounding out of a grove close by at his master's call. Both in form and color the animal was a perfect beauty. The major, who was a thorough judge of all good points of a horse, was loud in his admiration of this sample of the Pampas breed, and considered that in many respects he greatly resembled an English hunter. This splendid creature was called Thalca, a word in Patagonian which means bird, and he well deserved the name. Thal Cave was a consummate horseman, and to see him on his prancing steed was a sight worth looking at. The saddle was adapted to the two hunting weapons in common use on the Argentine plains, the bolus and the lasso. The bolus consists of three balls fastened together by a strap of leather, attached to the front of the ricado. The Indians fling them often at the distance of a hundred feet from the animal or enemy of which they are in pursuit, and with such a precision that they catch round their legs and throw them down in an instant. It is a formidable weapon in their hands, and one they handle with surprising skill. The lasso is always retained in the hand. It is simply a rope, thirty feet long, made of tightly twisted leather, with a slipknot at the end, which passes through an iron ring. This noose was thrown by the right hand while the left keeps fast hold of the rope, the other end of which is fastened to the saddle. A long carbine on the shoulder-belt completed the accoutrements of the Patagonian. He took his place at the head of the party, quite unconscious of the admiration he was exciting, and they set off, going alternately at a gallop and walking pace, for the trot seemed altogether unknown to them. Robert proved to be a bold rider, and completely reassured Glenarvin as to his ability to keep his seat. The Pampas commenced at the very foot of the Cordilleras. They may be divided into three parts. The first extends from the chain of the Andes, and stretches over an extent of two hundred and fifty miles, covered with stunted trees and bushes. The second four hundred and fifty miles is clothed with magnificent herbage, and stomps about one hundred and eighty miles from Buenos Aires. From this point to the sea, the foot of the traveler treads over immense prairies of luzern and thistles, which constitute the third division of the Pampas. On issuing from the gorges of the Cordilleras, Glenarvin and his band came first to plains of sand, called Mendaños, lying in ridges like waves of the sea, and so extremely fine that the least breath of wind agitated the light particles and sent them flying in clouds, which rose and fell like waterspouts. It was a spectacle which caused both pleasure and pain, for nothing could be more curious than to see the said waterspouts wandering over the plain, coming in contact and mingling with each other, and falling and rising with mild confusion. But on the other hand, nothing could be more disagreeable than the dust which was thrown off by these innumerable Mendaños, which was so impalpable that closed one's eyes as they might, it found its way through the lids. This phenomenon lasted the greater part of the day. The travelers made good progress, however, and about four o'clock the Cordilleras lay full forty miles behind them, the dark outlines being already almost lost in the evening mists. They were all somewhat fatigued with the journey and glad enough to halt for the night on the banks of the Nequim, called Ramed or Como by certain geographers, a troubled, turbulent, rapid flowing between high red banks. No incident of any importance occurred that night or the following day. They rode well and fast, finding the ground firm and the temperature bearable. Toward noon, however, the sun's rays were extremely scorching, and when evening came a bar of clouds streaked the southwest horizon, a sure sign of a change in the weather. The Patagonian pointed it out to the geographer, who replied, Yes, I know. And turning to his companions added, See! a change of weather is coming. We are going to have a taste of Pampero. And he went on to explain that this Pampero is very common in the Argentine plains. It is an extremely dry wind which blows from the southwest. Thalcave was not mistaken, for the Pampero blew violently all night, and was sufficiently trying to pour fellows on the sheltered by their ponchos. The horses lay down on the ground, and the men stretched themselves beside them in a close group. Glenarvon was afraid they would be delayed by the continuance of the hurricane, but Paganel was able to reassure him on that score after consulting his barometer. The Pampero generally brings a tempest which lasts three days, and may be always foretold by the depression of the mercury, he said. But when the barometer rises, on the contrary, which is the case now, all we need to expect is a few violent blasts. So you can make your mind easy, my good friends, by sunrise the sky will be quite clear again. You talk like a book, Paganel, replied Glenarvon. And I am one, and what's more, you are welcome to turn over my leaves whenever you like. The book was right. At one o'clock the wind suddenly lulled, and the weary men fell asleep and woke at daybreak, refreshed and invigorated. It was the twentieth of October, and the tenth day since they had left Talcahuano. They were still ninety miles from the point where the Rio Colorado crosses the thirty-seventh parallel, that is to say, about two days journey. Glenarvon kept a sharp lookout for the appearance of any Indians, intending to question them, through Thalcave, about Captain Grant, as Paganel could not speak to him well enough for this. But the track they were following was one little frequented by the natives for the ordinary routes across the Pampas lie further north. If by chance some nomadic courseman came in sight far away, he was off again like a dart, not caring to enter into conversation with strangers. To a solitary individual a little troop of eight men, all mounted and well armed, wore a suspicious aspect, so that any intercourse, either with honest men or even banditie, was almost impossible. Glenarvon was regretting this exceedingly when he unexpectedly met with a singular justification of his rendering of the eventful document. In pursuing the course the travellers had laid down for themselves, they had several times crossed the routes over the plains in common use, but had struck into none of them. Hither, too, Thalcave had made no remark about this. He understood quite well, however, that they were not bound for any particular town or village or settlement. Every morning they set out in a straight line toward the rising sun, and went on without the least deviation. Moreover, it must have struck Thalcave that instead of being the guide he was guided, yet with true Indian reserve he maintained absolute silence. But on reaching a particular point he checked his horse suddenly and said to Paganal, the Carmen route. Yes, my good Patagonian, replied Paganal in his best Spanish, the route from Carmen to Mendoza. We are not going to take it? No, replied Paganal. Where are we going, then? Always to the east. That's going nowhere. Who knows? Thalcave was silent and gazed at the geographer with an air of profound surprise. He had no suspicion that Paganal was joking for an Indian as always grave. You are not going to Carmen, then? He added after a moment's pause. No. Nor to Mendoza? No. Nor to Mendoza. Just then Glenarvon came up to ask the reason of the stoppage and what he and Thalcave were discussing. He wanted to know whether we were going to Carmen or Mendoza and was very surprised at my negative reply to both questions. Well, certainly it must seem strange to him. I think so. He says we are going nowhere. Well, Paganal, I wonder if it is possible to make him understand the object of our expedition and what our motive is for always going east. That would be a difficult matter for an Indian knows nothing about degrees and the finding of the document would appear to him a mere fantastic story. Is it the story he would not understand as a storyteller, said McNabs quietly? Ah, McNabs, I see you have small faith in my Spanish yet. Well, try it, my good friend. So I will. And turning around to the Patagonian he began his narrative, breaking down frequently for the want of a word and the difficulty of making certain details intelligible to a half-civilized Indian. It was quite a sight to see the learned geographer. He gesticulated and articulated and so worked himself up over it that the big drops of sweat fell in a cascade down his forehead onto his chest. When his tongue failed his arms were called to aid. Paganal got down on the ground and traced a geographical map on the sand showing where the lines of latitude cross and where the two oceans were along which the Karman route led. Thalcave looked uncomposedly without giving any indication of comprehending or not comprehending. The lesson lasted half an hour when the geographer left off wiped his streaming face and waited for the Patagonian to speak. Does he understand?" said Glenarvin. That remains to be seen but if he doesn't I give it up," replied Paganal. Thalcave neither stirred nor spoke. His eyes remained fixed on the lines drawn in the sand now becoming fast aface by the wind. Well, said Paganal to him at length. The Patagonian seemed not to hear. Paganal fancied he could detect an ironical smile already on the lips of the major and determined to carry the day was about to recommend his geographical illustrations when the Indians stopped him by a gesture and said,"You are in search of a prisoner?" Yes," replied Paganal. And just on this line between the setting and rising sun, added Thalcave, speaking in Indian fashion of the route from west to east. Yes, that's it. And it's your god," continued the guide that has sent you the secret of this prisoner on the waves. His will be accomplished then, replied the native almost solemnly, we will march east, and if it needs be, to the sun. Paganal, triumphing in his pupil, immediately translated his replies to his companions and exclaimed, What an intelligent race! All my explanations would have been lost on nineteen nevery twenty peasants in my own country. Glenarvin requested him to ask the Patagonian if he had heard of any foreigners who had fallen into the hands Paganal did so, and waited an answer. Perhaps I have. The reply was no sooner translated than the Patagonian found himself surrounded by the seven men, questioning him with eager glances. Paganal was so excited he could hardly find words, and he gazed at the grave Indian as if he could read the reply on his lips. Each word spoken by Thalcave was instantly translated so that the whole party seemed to hear him speak in their mother tongue. And what about the prisoner? He asked Paganal. He was a foreigner. You have seen him? No, but I have heard the Indians speak of him. He is brave. He has the heart of a bull. The heart of a bull, said Paganal, ah, this magnificent Patagonian language. You understand him, my friends. He means a courageous man. My father exclaimed Robert Grant and, turning to Paganal, he asked what this Spanish was for. Is it my father? Es mio padre, replied the geographer. Immediately taking Thalcave's hands in his own, the boy said, in a soft tone, Es mio padre. Su padre, replied the Patagonian, his face lighting up. He took the child in his arms, lifted him up on his horse, and gazed at him with peculiar sympathy. His intelligent face was quite full of feeling. But Paganal had not completed his interrogations. This prisoner, who was he, what was he doing, when had Thalcave heard of him, all these questions poured upon him at once. He had not longed to wait for an answer and learned that the European was a slave in one of the tribes that roamed the country between the Colorado and the Rio Negro. But where was the last place he was in? With the Cacique Calfecura. In the line we have been following? Yes. And who is this Sakeek? The chief of the Puyuchess Indians, a man with two tongues and two hearts. That's to say, false in speech and false in action, said Paganal, after he had translated this beautiful figure of the Patagonian language. And can we deliver our friend? he added. You may, if he is still in the hands of the Indians. And when did you last hear of him? A long while ago, the sun has brought two summers since then to the Pampas. The joy of Glenarvin cannot be described. This reply agreed perfectly with the date of the document. But one still remained for him to put to Thalcave. You spoke of a prisoner, were there not three? I don't know, said Thalcave. And do you know nothing of his present situation? Nothing. This ended the conversation. It was quite possible that the three men had become separated long ago, but still this much was certain, that the Indians had spoken of a European that was in their power and the date of the captivity and even the descriptive phrase about the captive evidently pointed to Harry Grant. End of Book 1 Chapter 16 Book 1 Chapter 17 of In Search of the Castaways This is a LibriVox recording or LibriVox recordings within the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org In Search of the Castaways or The Children of Captain Grant by Jules Verne Book 1 Chapter 17 has serious necessity. Extend from the 34th to the 40th Degree of Southern Attitude. The word Pampa of Arocanian origin signifies grass plain and justly applies to the whole region. The mimosas growing on the western part and substantial herbage on the eastern give those plains a peculiar appearance. The soil is composed of sand and red or yellow clay and this is covered by a layer of earth in which the vegetation takes root. The geologist would find rich treasures in the tertiary strata here, and the most deluvian remains enormous bones which the Indians attribute to some gigantic race which lived in a past age. The horses went on at a good pace to the thick Pacha Brava the grass of the Pampa part excellence so high and thick that the Indians find shelter in it from storms. At certain distances but increasingly seldom there were wet marshy spots almost entirely under water where the willows grew and the horses drank their fill greedily as if bent on quenching their thirst for the past, present and future. Thalcave went first to beat the bushes and fight away the cleaners for most dangerous species of viper the bite of which killed an ox in less than an hour. For two days they plotted steadily across this arid and deserted plain. The dry heat became severe there were not only no reos but even the ponds dug out by the Indians were dried up and decreased with every mile Paginal asked Thalcave when he expected to come to water. At Lake Salinas replied the Indian and when shall we get there? Tomorrow evening. When the Argentines travel in the Pampas they generally dig wells and find water a few feet below the surface but the travellers could not fall back on this resource not having the necessary influence they were therefore obliged to husband the small provision of water they still had left in rations so that if no one had enough to satisfy his thirst no one felt it too painful. They halted it evening after a course of 30 miles and eagerly looked forward to a good night's rest to compensate for the fatigue of day but their slumbers were invaded by a swarm of mosquitoes which allowed them no peace their presence indicated a change of wind which shifted to the north their south or south west wind generally puts the flight these little pests. Even these pet yields of life could not ruffle the major's equanimity but Paginal on the contrary was perfectly exasperated by such trifling annoyances he abused the poor mosquitoes desperately and deployed the lack of some acid lotion which would have eased the pain of their stings the major did his best to console him by reminding him of the fact they only had to deal with one species of insect among the 300,000 naturalists reckon he would listen to nothing and got up in very bad temper he was willing to start a daybreak however for they had to get to Lake Salinas before sundown the horses were tired out and dying for water and though their riders had stinted themselves for their sakes still their ration was very insufficient the drought was constantly increasing and the heat nonetheless for the wind being north this wind being the samoom of the pampas there was a brief interruption this day to the monotony of the journey Mulvedy who was in front of the others rode hastily back to report the approach of a troop of Indians the news was received with very different feelings by Glenovan and Thalcave the Scotchman was glad of the chance of gleaning some information about his shipwrecked countryman while the Patagonian hardly cared to encounter the nomadic Indians of the prairie knowing their bandit propensities he rather sought to avoid them and gave orders to his party to have their arms in readiness for any trouble presently the nomads came into sight and the Patagonian was reassured at the finding there were only 10 in number they came within 100 yards of them and stopped this was near enough to observe them distinctly there were fine species of the native races which had been almost entirely sucked away in 1833 by General Rosas a tallened stature with arch forehead and olive complexion they were dressed in Guanico skins and the carried lances 20 feet long knives, slings, bolas and lassoes and by their dexterity in the management of their horses showed themselves to be accomplished riders they appeared to have stopped for the purpose of holding a council with each other for they shouted and gesticulated at a great rate Glenoven determined to go up to them but he'd no sooner move forward than the whole band wheeled round and disappeared with incredible speed it would have been useless for the travellers to attempt to overtake them with such worn out horses the cowards exclaimed Paginal haste gunned off too quick for honest folks said McNabs who are these Indian style cave asked Paginal gout chose the gout chose cried Paginal and turning to his companions he added we need not have been so much in our guard there was nothing to fear how was that asked McNabs because the gout chose are an offensive peasants you believe that Paginal certainly I do they took us for robbers and fled in terror I rather think they did not dare to attack us replied Glenoven that's my opinion too said the major for if I am not mistaken instead of being harmless the gout chose are formidable out-and-out bandits the idea exclaimed Paginal and Fallsworth commenced a lively discussion of this ethnological thesis so lively that the major became excited and quite contrary to his usual suavity said bluntly I believe you are wrong Paginal wrong? replied Paginal yes, Thalcave took them for robbers and he knows what he is talking about well Thalcave was mistaken this time retorted Paginal somewhat sharply the gout chose are agriculturalists and shepherds and nothing else as I have stated in a pamphlet on the natives of the Pampas written by me which has attracted some notice well well you have committed an error that's all monsoor Paginal what monsoor McNabs you tell me that I have committed an error an inadvertence if you like which you can put among the errata in your next edition Paginal highly incensed geographical knowledge being brought into question and even gested about allowed his ill-humour to get the better of him and said no sir that my books have no need of such errata indeed well on this case they have at any rate retorted McNabs quite as obstinate as his opponent sir I think you are very annoying today and I think you are very crapped Glenovan thought it was high time to interfere for the discussion was getting too hot so he said come now there is no doubt that one of you is very teasing and the other is very crapped and I must say I am surprised at both of you the Patagonian without understanding the cause could see that the two friends were quarrelling he began to smile and said quietly here's the north wind the north wind exclaimed Paginal what's the north wind got to do with it ah it's just that said Glenovan it's the north wind that has put you in a bad temper I have heard that in South America the wind greatly irritates the nervous system my saint patrick ed would you are right said the major laughing heartily but Paginal in a towering rage would not give up the contest and turned upon Glenovan whose intervention in this gesting manner he resented and so my lord my nervous system is irritated he said yes Paginal it is the north wind a wind which causes many a crime in the Pampas as the tramantine does in the Campania of Rome crimes returned the geographer do I look like a man that would commit crimes that's not exactly what I said tell me at once that I want to assassinate you well I am really afraid bursting into an uncontrollable fit of laughter in which all the others joined Paginal said no more but went off in front alone and came back in a few minutes quite himself and got in his grievance at eight o'clock in the morning Thad Cave who was considerably in advance of the rest described in the distance the much-desired lake and in less than a quarter of an hour they reached its banks but a grievous disappointment awaited them the lake was dried up end of book one chapter 17 book one chapter 18 of in search of the castaways this is Libbervox recording or Libbervox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit Libbervox.org in search of the castaways or The Children of Captain Grant by Jules Verne book one chapter 18 in search of water Lake Salinas ends the string of lagoons connected with the Sierras, Ventana and Guamini numerous expeditions are formally made there from Buenos Aires the salt deposited on its banks as the waters contain great quantities of chloride of sodium but when Thad Cave spoke of the lake as supplying drinkable water he was thinking of the reos of fresh water which run into it though streams however were all dried up also and the burning sun had drunk up everything liquid and the consternation of the travellers may be imagined to the discovery some action must be taken immediately however for what little water still remained or quenched thirst hunger and fatigue were forgotten in the face of this imperial necessity a sort of leather tent called a ruka which had been left by the natives afforded the party a temporary resting place and the weary horses stretched themselves along the muddy banks and tried to browse on the marine plants and dry reeds they found there nauseous to the taste as they must have been as soon as the whole party went sconce in the ruka Paginal asked Thad Cave a rapid conversation followed a few words of which were intelligible to Glenovan Thad Cave spoke calmly but the lively Frenchman gesticulated enough for both after a little Thad Cave sat silent and folded his arms what does he say? asked Glenovan my fancy tea was advising us to separate yes into two parties those of us whose horses are so done out with the fatigue and thirst that they can scarcely drag one leg after the other are to continue the route as best they can while the others whose steeds are fresher are to push on in advance toward the river Guamini which throws itself into Lake San Lucas about 31 miles off if there should be water enough in the river they are to wait on the banks till their companions reach them but should it be dried up they will hasten back and spare them a useless journey and what will we do then? asked Austin then we shall have to make up our minds to go 72 miles south as far as the commencement of the Sierra Ventana where the rivers abound it is wise council and we will act upon it without loss of time my horse is in tolerable good trim and I volunteer to accompany Thad Cave oh my lord take me said Robert as if it were a question of some pleasure party but would you be able to for it my boy oh I have a fine beast which just wants to have a gallop please my lord take me come then my boy said Glenovan delighted not to leave Robert behind if we three don't manage to find out fresh water somewhere he added we must be very stupid well well what about me said Paginal oh my dear Paginal you must stay with the reserve corps replied the major you are too well acquainted with the 37th parallel and the whiff of Grumini and the whole Pampers for us to let you go neither Morley nor Wilson nor myself would be able to rejoin Thad Cave with the given rendezvous but we would put ourselves under the banner of the brave Rijek Paginal with perfect confidence I resigned myself said the geographer much flattered at having supreme command but Paginal no distractions added the major don't you take us to the wrong place to the borders of the Pacific for instance oh you insufferable major it would serve you right to replied Paginal laughing but how will you manage to understand what Thad Cave says Glenovan he continued I suppose replied Glenovan the Patagonian Diab won't have much to talk about besides I know a few Spanish words and at a pinch I should not fear either making him understand me or my understanding him go then my worthy friend we'll have supper first rejoin Glenovan and then sleep if we can till it is starting time the supper was not very arriving without drink of any kind and they tried to make up for the lack of it by a good sleep but Paginal dreamed of water all night of torrents and cascades rivers and ponds and streams and books in fact he had a complete nightmare next morning at six o'clock the horses of Thad Cave Glenovan and Robert were got ready the last ration of water was given to them and drunk with more invidity than satisfaction for it is filthy disgusting stuff the three travellers then jumped on to their saddles and set off shouting au revoir to their companions don't come back whatever you do called Paginal after them the Dessertio de Les Salinas which they had come to traverse is a high plain covered with stunted trees not above ten feet high and small mimosas which the Indians called Cura Mamal and Jumez a bushy shrub rich in soda here and there large spaces were covered with salt which sparkled in the sunlight with astonishing brilliancy these might easily have been taken for sheets of ice had not the intense heat forbidden the illusion and the contrast between these dazzling white sheets presented the dry, burned up ground gave the desert a most peculiar character 80 miles south on the contrary the Sierra Ventana toward which the travellers might possibly have to take themselves should the Guamini disappoint their hopes the landscape was totally different there the fertility splendid the pastureage is incomparable and fortunately to reach them would necessitate a march of 130 miles south and this was why Thalcay thought it best to go first to Guamini as it was not only much nearer but also on the direct line of route the three horses went forward right in Maine as if instinctively knowing whether they were bound Theuka especially displayed a courage that neither fatigue nor hunger could damp he bounded like a bird over the dried up canadas in the bushes of the Kura Mamal his loud joyous name seemed to both success to the search the horses of Gleniffen and Robert though not so light-footed felt the spur of his example and followed him bravely Thalcay inspired his companions as much as Theuka did his four-footed brethren he sat motionless in the saddle but often turned his head to look at Robert and Evan and Ron gave him a shout of encouragement and approval as he saw how well he rode certainly the boy deserved praise for he was fast becoming an excellent cavalier rather than Robert, Sir Gleniffen Thalcay was evidently congratulating me my boy and paying you compliments What for, my lord? for your good horsemanship I can hold firm on that's all replied Robert, blushing with pleasure at such an encomium Think, Robert, and you are too modest I tell you that someday you will turn out to be an accomplished horseman What would Papa say to that? said Robert laughing. He wants me to be a sailor The one won't tinder the other If all cavaliers wouldn't make good sailors there is no reason why all sailors should not make good horsemen To keep one's footing on the yards must teach a man to hold on firm and, as to managing the reins and making a horse go through all sorts of movements that's easily acquired, indeed it comes naturally Poor father, said Robert how he will thank you for saving his life You love him very much, Robert? Yes, my lord, dearly He was so good to me, my sister we were his only thought and whenever he came home from his voyages we were sure of some souvenir from all the places he had been to and, better still, of loving words and caresses Ah, if he knew him, you would love him too Mary is most like him He has a soft voice like hers That's strange for sailor, isn't it? Yes, Robert, very strange I see him still, the boy went on as if speaking to himself Good brave papa he put me to sleep on his knee crooning an old scotch ballad about the locks of our country The time sometimes comes back to me but very confused like So it does to Mary too Ah, my lord, how we loved him Well, I do think one needs to be little to love one's father like that Yes, and to be grown up my child the venerator deeply touched by the boy's genuine affection During this conversation the horses had been slackening speed and we're only walking now You will find him? said Robert again, after a few minutes silence Yes, we will find him with Glenovan's reply Thalcave has set us on the track and I have some great confidence in him Thalcave is a brave Indian, isn't he? said the boy That indeed he is Do you notice that the boy that indeed he is Do you know something, my lord What is it, and then I will tell you That all the people you have with you are brave Lady Helena, who I love so and the major with his calm manner and Captain Mangles and Masio Padinell and all the sailors on the Duncan How courageous and devoted they are Yes, my boy, I know that like Glenovan and you know that you are the best of all No, most certainly I don't know that Well, it is time you did, my lord said the boy, seizing his lordship's hand and covering it with kisses Glenovan shook his head but said no more as a gesture from Thalcave made them spare on their horses and hurry forward But it was soon evident that with the exception of the ochre the weary animals could not go quicker than a walking pace At noon they were obliged to let them rest for an hour They could not go on at all and refused to eat the alpha fairers A poor burnt-up sort of lucre Glenovan began to be uneasy tokens of stability were not the least on the decrease and the want of water might involve serious calamities Thalcave said nothing thinking probably that it would be time enough to despair if the Guamini should be dried up if indeed the heart of an Indian can ever despair Spare and whip had both to be employed to induce the poor animals to resume the route and then they only crept along for their strength was gone Theuka indeed could have galloped swiftly enough and reached the Rio in a few hours but Thalcave would not leave his companions behind alone in the midst of a desert It was hard work however to get the animal to consent to walk quietly He kicked and reared and nade violently and was subdued at last by his master's voice more than hand Thalcave positively talked to the beast and Theuka understood perfectly though unable to reply for after a great deal of arguing the noble creature yielded though he still champed the bit Thalcave did not understand Theuka it turned out though Theuka understood him the intelligent animal felt humidity in the atmosphere and drank it in with frenzy moving and making a noise with his tongue as if taking deep drafts of some cool refreshing liquid The Patagonian could not mistake him now Water was not far off The two other horses seemed to catch their comrades' meaning and inspired by his example made a last effort and galloped forward About three o'clock a white line appeared in the dip of the road and seemed to tremble in the sunlight Water! explained Glenovan Yes, yes, it's water! shouted Glenovan They were right and the horses knew it too for there was no need now to urge them on They tore over the ground as if mad and in a few minutes had reached the river and plunged in up to their chests Their masters had to go on too whether they would or not but they were so rejoiced at being able to quench their thirst that this compulsory bath was no grievance Oh, how delicious this is! explained Robert taking a deep draft Drink moderately, my boy, said Glenovan but he did not set the example Thalcave drank very quietly without hiring himself taking small gulps but as long as a lasso was the Patagonian's say he seemed as if he were never going to leave off and really there was some danger of swallowing up the whole river At last Glenovan said Well, our friends won't be disappointed this time they will be sure of finding clear cool water when they get here, that is to say if Thalcave leaves any for them But couldn't we go to meet them? They would spare them several hours suffering and anxiety You're right, my boy but how could we carry them this water? The leather bottles were left with Wilson No, it is better first to wait for them as we agreed They can't be here till the middle of the night so the best thing we can do is to get a good bed and a good supper ready for them Thalcave had not waited for Glenovan's proposition to prepare the encampment He had been fortunate enough to discover on the banks of the Rio Aramada a sort of enclosure which had served as a fault for flocks and was shut in on three sides a more suitable place could not be found for the night's lodging provided they had no fear of sleeping in the open air beneath the stylet heavens and none of Thalcave's companions had much solicitude on that score Accordingly they took possession at once and stretched themselves at full length on the ground in the bright sunshine and underpinned garments Well now, we've secured a lodging and we must think of supper, Sir Glenovan Our friends must not have reason to complain of the couriers they sent to proceed them and if I am not much mistaken they will be very satisfied It strikes me that an hour's shooting won't be lost time Are you ready, Robert? Yes, my lord, replied the boy standing up, gun in hand Why Glenovan proposed this was that the banks of the Guamini seem to be the general rendezvous of the game The sort of partridge peculiar to the Pampas called the Tinamoo, black wood hens were species of plover called Teru Teru yellow rays and waterfowl with magnificent green plumage rose in coves No quadrupeds, however, were visible but Thalcave pointed to the long grass and thick brushwood and gave his friends to understand that they were lying there in concealment Distaining the feathered tribes when more substantial game was at hand the hunters' first shots were fired into the underwood Instantly they rose by the hundred rucks and guenicos, like those that had swept over them that terrible night in the Cordelia res but the timid creatures were so frightened that they were all out of gunshot in a twinkling, the hunters were obliged to content themselves with a humbling game though in an alimentary point of view nothing better could be wished A dozen of red partridges and rays were speedily brought down and Glenovan also very cleverly managed to kill a teetetcher, or peccary a pachydometous animal, the flesh of which is excellent eating In less than half an hour the hunters had all the game they required Robert had killed a curious animal belonging to the Order Indentita an armadillo, a sort of tattoo covered with a hard bony shell in movable pieces and measuring a foot and a half long it was very fat and would make an excellent dish the pachyconian said Robert was very proud of his success Thalcave did his part by patching in Nandu the species of ostrich remarkable for its extreme swiftness There could be no entrapment such an animal and the Indian did not attempt it He urged the yuka to a gallop and made a direct attack knowing that if the first to aim missed then Nandu would soon tire out horse and rider by involving them in an inextricable labyrinth of windings The moment therefore that Thalcave got to the right distance he flung his burlas with such a powerful hand and so skillfully that he caught the bird round the legs and paralysed his efforts once in a few seconds it lay flat on the ground The Indian had not made his capture for the mere pleasure and glory of such a novel chase The flesh of Nandu is highly esteemed and Thalcave felt bound to contribute his share to the common past They returned to the Ramada bringing back the string of partridges the ostrich, the peccary and the armadillo The ostrich and the peccary were prepared for cooking by divesting them of their tough skins and cutting them into thin slices As the armadillo he carries his cooking apparatus with him and all that had to be done was to place him in his own shell over the glowing embers The substantial dishes were reserved for the night-comers and the three hunters contented themselves with the vow in the partridges and washed down their meal with clear fresh water which was pronounced superior to all the porter in the world even to the famous Highland Uskabor or whisky The hortes had not been overlooked A large quantity of dry fodder was discovered lying heaped up in the Ramada and this was supplied to them amply with both food and bedding When all was ready the three companions wrapped themselves in the ponchos and stretched themselves on an idea down of alfalfares the usual bed of hunters in the Pampas End of book one