The Rover of the Andes: A Tale of Adventure on South America Page 5

  CHAPTER FIVE.

  LAWRENCE AND QUASHY BECOME "FLOSUFFICAL," AND THEY CAMP OUT BESIDE THE"GIANT'S CASTLE."

  While the party were at supper the first gusts of a storm, which had forsome time been brewing, shook the little hut, and before they had allfallen into the profound slumber which usually followed their day'sjourney, a heavy gale was howling among the mountain gorges with a noiselike the roaring of a thousand lions. For two days the gale raged sofuriously that travelling--especially in the higher regions of theAndes--became impossible. The Indian girl, Pedro, and the negro, boretheir detention with that stoicism which is not an infrequentcharacteristic of mountaineers, guides, and savages. As for our hero,he devoted himself and all his skill to his patient--to which duty hewas the more reconciled that it afforded him a good opportunity at oncefor improving his Spanish and pointing out to the bandit the error ofhis ways.

  To do the man justice, he seemed to be fully sensible of the youngdoctor's kindness, and thanked him, with tears in his eyes, not only forhis previous intention to save him from the tremendous fall over thecliff, but for his subsequent efforts to alleviate the evil consequencesthereof.

  It mattered nothing to the great warm-hearted, loose-jointed Englishmanthat when he mentioned these hopeful signs in his patient to Pedro, thatworthy shook his head and smiled sarcastically, or that Quashy receivedthe same information with a closing of the eyes and an expansion of thejaws which revealed the red recesses of his throat to their darkestdeeps! Lawrence, being a man of strong opinions, was not to be shakenout of them either by sarcasm or good-humoured contempt.

  Turning to the Indian girl for sympathy, he related the matter to her ata time when the other inhabitants of the hut had gone out and left themalone.

  "You see,--Manuela," he said, with the frown of meditation on his brow,and his eyes fixed on the ceiling, "I have no belief in the very commonidea that there is a soft spot in the heart of every man, however bad;but I do believe that the heart of the very worst of men may be madesoft by the Spirit of God, and that He employs us, who call ourselvesChristians, as His agents in bringing about the result. It is quitepossible that I may have been thrown in the way of this robber for thevery purpose of touching his heart through kindness--God's ownmotive-power--and that the Spirit will soften his heart to receive thetouch."

  He paused, and, withdrawing his gaze from the ceiling, observed that thegirl's eyes were fixed on his face with an expression of perplexity andearnestness.

  It then suddenly occurred to him that, having spoken in English, shecould not have understood him.

  "But you _do_ look as if you had some idea of what I have been saying,Manuela. Have you?"

  "Si, senhor, some," was the reply, as she dropped her eyes with anembarrassed look and blushed so as to make her pretty brown face lookalarmingly red.

  Endeavouring to convey the same ideas through the medium of Spanish,Lawrence made such a bungle of it that Manuela, instead of expressingsympathy, began to struggle so obviously with her feelings that the poorEnglishman gave up the attempt, and good-naturedly joined his companionin a little burst of laughter. They were in the midst of this when thedoor opened and Quashy entered.

  "You 'pears to be jolly," observed the genial negro, with every wrinkleof his black visage ready to join in sympathetically, "was de jok adesprit good un?"

  "Not very desperate, Quashy," said Lawrence, "it was only my bad Spanishwhich made Manuela laugh. If you had been here to interpret we mighthave got on better with our philosophical discourse."

  "O massa!" returned the black--solemn remonstrance, both in manner andtone, putting to sudden flight the beaming look of sympathy--"don'tspeak of me 'terpretin' Spinich. Nebber could take kindly to dat stuff.Ob course I kin talk wid de peons an' de gauchos, whose conv'sation ammostly 'bout grub, an' hosses, an' cattle, an' dollars, an' murder, butwhen I tries to go in for flosuffy, an' sitch like, I breaks downaltogidder."

  At this point the Indian girl's tendency to laugh increased, but whetherbecause of fresh views of the absurdity of what had passed, or becauseof some faint perception of the negro's meaning, Lawrence had no powerto decide.

  "I should have thought, Quashy," he said, with a return of his wontedgravity, "that a man of a thoughtful and contemplative turn of mind likeyou would have acquired the power of expressing almost any idea inSpanish by this time."

  "T'ank you for de compl'ment, massa," replied Quashy, "but I not soclebber as you t'ink. Der am some tings in flosuffy dat beats me. WhenI tries to putt 'em afore oder peepil in Spinich, I somehow gits debrain-pan into sitch a conglomeration ob fumbustication dat I not ableto see quite clar what I mean myself--dough, ob course, I knows dat I'mright."

  "Indeed!"

  "Yis; but de great consolation I has is dat de peepil I'm talkin' todon't onderstand me a mossel better nor myself; an', ob course, asnoting in de wurl could show dem dey was wrong, it don't much matter."

  "That is good philosophy, at all events. Isn't it, Manuela?" askedLawrence in Spanish.

  "Si, senhor," replied the girl, with sparkling eyes and a dazzlingdisplay of little teeth which seemed to indicate that she fullyappreciated what was said.

  "Strange," thought Lawrence--"so grave and pensive, yet at times sosprightly; so intelligent, yet, of course, so ignorant; so very brown,and yet so pretty. What a pity she is not white!"

  He only said, however, with a sigh, "Is the gale abating, Quashy?"

  To which the negro replied, with a responsive sigh, "Yis, massa,--itam."

  After two days' delay our travellers were enabled to proceed. Whiletheir host was busy saddling the mules Lawrence took Pedro aside.

  "I am anxious about that bandit," he said. "It is not his power ofrecovering I am afraid of, but our host's willingness to take care ofhim."

  "Have you not spoken to him about it, senhor, and paid him in advance,like the good Samaritan?"

  "Truly I have, but that does not secure fidelity in our host, and theman's life may depend on his treatment during the next few days. Ialmost wish that we might delay our journey a little."

  "That cannot be," returned Pedro, with decision. "Besides, it isunnecessary, for I have spoken to our host, and told him to take goodcare of the fellow."

  Lawrence could scarcely forbear smiling at the quiet assurance withwhich Pedro spoke.

  "Surely," he said, "you cannot count on his being influenced by yourcommands after you are gone?"

  "Yes, senhor, I can count on that, for he knows me, and I occasionallypass this way."

  Pedro turned away as he spoke and went towards the mules, the fasteningsof whose loads he carefully inspected. Lawrence went to look after hisown animal with his mind much relieved, for the manner of Pedro was suchas to inspire irresistible, almost blind, confidence.

  During the first mile or two, as they rode along, our hero puzzledhimself in a vain attempt to analyse the cause of this confidence. Wasit the result of that imperturbable self-possession and invariablereadiness of resource which marked the guide; or was it the sterntruthfulness of his dark eyes, coupled with the retiring modesty andgravity of his demeanour? Perhaps it was the union of thesecharacteristics. He could not tell.

  While thus engaged in profound thought he was roused by Manuela ridingalongside of him, and pointing upwards with animated looks while sheexclaimed--

  "See--look--senhor!"

  Much surprised, for this was the first time during the journey that thegirl had ventured to attract his attention, the youth looked in thedirection indicated, and certainly the view that met his eyes wascalculated to banish not only the surprise, but all other feelings savethose of admiration of Nature and reverence for Nature's God.

  They had just rounded one of those rocky bluffs which so frequentlyinterrupted their view during their upward journey, and had come upon ascene which they could not find words adequately to describe. Asinterjectional phrases alone could indicate something of their emotionsto each other, so fragmentary sentences alone will co
nvey a faintsemblance of the truth to the intelligence of the reader.

  Mountains, glens, and mighty cliffs; hideous precipices and yawninggulfs; snow-clad summits high above them, and rock-riven gorges farbelow. Distance upon distance ranging backward and upward to infinity,where all was mingled with cloudland; sunlit here, darkest shadowedthere--wildness, weirdness, grandeur, and magnificence everywhere!

  In the immediate foreground the serpentine path wound upward amongrugged rocks, and the riders, picking their steps, as it were, midway upthe face of a stupendous precipice, looked upward on the left at anapparently summitless wall, and downward on the right into an almostbottomless valley, through which a river roared as if mad with joy athaving escaped its glacier-prison; though its roaring was softenedwell-nigh to silence by distance, while in appearance it seemed littlelarger than a silver thread.

  "I could almost believe that to be a giant's castle," remarked Lawrence,pointing to the opposite side of the ravine, where a huge perpendicularmountain of porphyry was so broken into turrets, towers, andbattlements, that it was difficult, except for its size, to believe itother than the work of man. There were even holes and formations aboutit that had the appearance of antique windows, gates, and drawbridges!

  "Yes, it is a strange place," said the guide, checking his mule;"moreover, we must spend the night under its shadow, for it isimpossible to reach a better place of shelter to-night; and, by goodfortune, yonder is something fresh for supper."

  Pedro pointed to a spot about seven or eight hundred yards distant,where a group of guanacos stood gazing at the intruders with profoundattention.

  "How will you get near enough for a shot?" asked Lawrence; "they will begone before you can get across the ravine, and there is little or nocover."

  "You shall see," said Pedro, cocking his rifle.

  "But--but no weapon short of a cannon will carry so far--at least withaccuracy," exclaimed Lawrence in surprise, for at the time of which wewrite breech-loaders and the long-range weapons of precision had notbeen introduced in those regions. Indeed, the armies of South America,and of Europe also, still slew each other with the familiar Brown Bessand the clumsy flint-lock at that time.

  Pedro paid no attention to the remark, but, dismounting, slowly raisedthe rifle to his shoulder. The guide was one of those men who seem tolive in advance of their age. He had thought out, and carried out in arough-and-ready manner, ideas which have since been scientificallyreduced to practice. Being well aware that any projectile is drawndownward in its flight by the law of gravitation, and that if you wantto hit a distant point you must aim considerably above it, he had, bycareful experiment, found out how high above an object at a givendistance one must aim in order to hit, and, by constant practice injudging distance, as well as in taking aim above his mark, he hadattained to such skill as a long-range marksman that his friends almostbelieved it impossible for game to get beyond the range of his deadlyweapon, and foes never felt easy till they were entirely out of hissight. The comparative slowness, too, of the flint-lock in discharginga rifle, had necessitated in him a degree of steadiness, not only whiletaking aim, but even after pulling the trigger, which rendered him whatwe might term statuesque in his action as he levelled his piece.

  For a few seconds the rock beside him was not more steady. Then thecliffs burst into a fusillade of echoes, and the guanacos leaped wildlyup the mountain-side, leaving one of their number on the rocks behindthem.

  It was some time before the young Englishman could get over hisastonishment at this feat, for Pedro had pointed his weapon so high thathe did not appear to be aiming at the animal at all, and he maintainedan animated discussion with the mountaineer until they reached a part ofthe pass which proved to be somewhat dangerous.

  And here they met with a party of muleteers crossing the mountains inthe opposite direction. They were still far above them when firstobserved descending the same steep and narrow road.

  "We will wait here till they pass," said the guide, pulling up at apoint where the width of the track was considerable. "I see by theescort that they carry something of value--probably bars of silver fromone of the mines. They have reached the worst part of the pass. Ishouldn't wonder to see one of the mules go over--they often do."

  "And always get killed, I suppose," said Lawrence.

  "Not always. Now and then they have wonderful escapes, but manyhundreds have been lost here. See!"

  As he spoke one of the baggage-mules of the party touched the cliff withits load. This caused the animal to stagger; his hind-legs actuallywent over the precipice, and the loose stones began to roll away fromunder his hoofs. With his fore-feet, however, still on the narrowtrack, he held on bravely, even sticking his nose on the ground, so thathe had the appearance of holding on by his teeth! Two of the peonsrushed to render assistance, but before they reached him he had slipped,and rolled down the awful slope which ended in a sheer perpendicularprecipice. Here he bounded off into space, and next moment fell,baggage and all, with a tremendous splash into the river.

  It seemed impossible that the poor animal could have escaped with life,but in another moment his head reappeared above water, and he made abrave struggle to gain the bank. The current, however, was too strongfor him. Down he went below the foaming water, his scraggy tail makinga farewell flourish as he disappeared. But again his head appeared, andonce again he struggled for the bank. This time with success, for hehad been swept into a shallow in which he was able to maintain hisfoothold and slowly drag himself out of the river. When in safety, hestood with drooping head and tail, as if in a state of the most thoroughdejection at having made such an exhibition of himself.

  "Clebber beast!" shouted Quashy, who had stood with his ten fingersexpanded, his great mouth open, and his whole emotional soul glaring outof his monstrous eyes.

  "Well done!" echoed Lawrence, who was scarcely less pleased than hisservant.

  The party now drew near, and very striking was their appearance--thevariously coloured mules, following the bell-mare which went in advanceas a leader, winding slowly down the crooked path, and the peons intheir picturesque costumes shouting, laughing, or singing wild snatchesof song as they were moved by fury, fun, or fancy.

  The men, who numbered a dozen or so, and were well-armed, wereapparently relieved to find that our travellers were not bandits, inregard to whom their questions showed that they felt some anxiety. Theyhad witnessed Pedro's shot from the heights above, and looked upon himwith no little surprise and much respect as they commented on his powerwith the rifle.

  A few questions were asked, a few compliments paid, and then the twoparties, passing each other, proceeded on their respective ways.

  Crossing the mountain torrent at a rather dangerous ford, towardsevening Pedro led his companions to a spot not far from the ramparts ofwhat Lawrence styled the giant's castle.

  It was not an inviting spot at first. There was little pasture for thewearied mules on the almost naked rocks, and the stunted trees andgnarled roots told eloquently of the severity of winter in those highregions. There was, however, a good spring of water and an over-archingrock, which promised some degree of refreshment and shelter, and whenfirewood was collected, a ruddy blaze sent up, the kettle put on toboil, and several fine cuts of the guanaco set up to roast, the feelingsof sadness which had at first influenced Lawrence were put to flight,and he felt more satisfaction in his lodging than he could haveexperienced if it had been a palatial hotel with its confined air andfeather beds and cloying luxuries.

  There was a species of natural recess in the cliff which Pedro screenedoff as a chamber for Manuela, while she assisted Quashy to prepare thesupper.

  "There's nothing like fresh mountain air," exclaimed Lawrence, with aglow of enthusiasm, after the first attack on the guanaco steaks hadsubsided.

  "Specially when the said air happens to be quiet and warm, and the nightfine and the stars bright and the company pleasant," added the guide.

  Quashy had a habit, when
his risible faculties were only gently tickled,of shutting his eyes, throwing back his head, opening his great mouthwide, and indulging in a silent laugh. Having done so on the presentoccasion, he shut his mouth with a snap and opened his eyes.

  "Ho yis," he said in a low tone, "bery nice when it all plisent likenow, but it am anoder t'ing when de fresh mountain air goes howlerin'an' bowlerin' about like a wild beast, an' when it snowses an frozes fitto cut off your noses an' shribel up de bery marrow in your bones! Oh!you got no notion what--"

  "Hold your tongue, Quashy," interrupted Lawrence, "why, your descriptionof such things makes one shiver. Let us hope we may have no experienceof them and enjoy our comforts while we may."

  "Dat's true flosuffy, massa," returned the negro, helping himself tomore guanaco, and offering some on the end of his fork to Manuela, whoaccepted the same with her usual ready smile, which, however, on thisoccasion, expanded into an uncontrollable little laugh.

  Lawrence was perplexed, and so was Quashy, for the quiet little Indianwas not given to giggling at trifles, much less to laughing at nothing.Lawrence observed, however, that the girl did not reach out her handwith her usual graceful action, but on the contrary gave her arm anawkward twist which obliged the negro to stretch needlessly far overtowards her in handing the meat.

  The result was that a pannikin of coffee which Quashy had placed on hisplate--the plate being in his lap--began to tilt over. Before any onecould warn him it overturned, causing the poor man to spring up with ayell as the hot liquid drenched his legs. Of course every one laughed.People always do at such mild mishaps. As the coffee was not too hot,and there was more in the kettle, Quashy joined in the laugh while hewiped his garments, and afterwards replenished his pannikin.

  But a new light began to force itself upon Lawrence. "Can it be," hethought, "that she did that on purpose?--that she saw the pannikin wastilting, and--no, that's impossible!"

  He looked earnestly at the girl. She had recovered her gravity by thattime, and was quietly eating her supper with downcast eyes."Impossible," he repeated in thought, "so unlike her, and so very unlikethe Indian character." Nevertheless his perplexity remained, and whenhe went to sleep that night, after gazing long and earnestly up at thebright stars and at the white summits of the Andes which rose in awfulgrandeur above him, he dreamed that while Quashy was sitting soundasleep with his head on his knees in front of the fire, Manuela availedherself of the opportunity to pour an ocean of hot coffee down his back!

  Starting up wide awake at this, he found that Quashy lay beside him,sleeping quietly on his back, that Pedro was similarly engaged, that theIndian girl had disappeared into her dormitory, that the giant's castlelooked more splendidly real than ever in the rising moonlight, and thatno sound was to be heard save the brawling of the escaped river, as itfled from its glacier-prison to its home in the mighty sea.