Before very long we reach a broad river, and in we plunge, the hors.e.m.e.n leading the van, with the water up to their saddle-girths. I give the reins of my team to my attendant Gaucho, and, running forward, jump on board the caravan to keep the ladies company while we fight the ford. But the ladies are in no way afraid; they are enjoying themselves in the front of the carriage, which is open. Old Jenny is in an easy-chair and buried to the nose in her guanaco robe. She is muttering something to herself, and as I bend down to listen I can catch the words: "Dearie me! Dearie me!
When"ll ever we reach the Land o" Promise? Egyptian darkness! Showers of golochs! Chariots and hors.e.m.e.n! Dearie me! Dearie me!"
But we are over at last, and our whole cavalcade looks sweeter and fresher for the bath.
Presently we reach a corral, where two men beckon to Moncrieff. They are wild and uncouth enough in all conscience; their baggy breeches and ponchos are in sad need of repair, and a visit to a barber would add to the respectability of their appearance. They look excited, wave their arms, and point southwards. But they talk in a strange jargon, and there are but two words intelligible to me. These, however, are enough to set my heart throbbing with a strange feeling of uneasiness I never felt before.
"_Los Indios! Los Indios!_"
Moncrieff points significantly to his armed men and smiles. The Gauchos wave their arms in the air, rapidly opening and shutting their hands in a way that to me is very mysterious. And so they disappear.
CHAPTER XI.
THE TRAGEDY AT THE FONDA.
I could not help wondering, as I glanced at aunt whether she had heard and understood the meaning of those wild Gauchos" warning. If she did she made no sign. But aunt is a M"Crimman, and the sister of a bold Highland chief.
She would not _show_ fear even if she _felt_ it. Yes, the brave may feel fear, but the coward alone is influenced by it.
Old Jenny had gone to sleep, so I said good-bye to aunt, nodded to Aileen, and went back to my waggon once more.
We made good progress that day, though we did not hurry. We stopped to feed our cattle, and to rest and feed ourselves. The jolting had been terrible on some parts of the road. But now the sun was getting very low indeed, and as we soon came to a piece of high, hard ground, with a view of the country round us for miles, we determined to bivouac for the night.
The horses and mules were hobbled and turned off to graze under the charge of sentry Gauchos. No fear of their wandering off far. They were watered not an hour ago, and would be fresh by daybreak.
Now, Moncrieff had been too long in the wilds to neglect precautions while camping out. I had taken an early opportunity to-day to interview our leader concerning the report that Indians were abroad.
"Ah!" he answered, "you heard and understood what that half-breed said, then?"
"Just a word or two. He appeared to give us a warning of some kind. Is it of any account?"
"Well, there"s always some water where the stirkie drowns; there"s always some fire where you see smoke; and it is better to be sure than sorry."
I could elicit no more information from my canny countryman than that. I said nothing to any one, not even my brothers. Why should I cause them the slightest alarm, and speak a word that might tend to make them sleep less soundly?
However, as soon as the halt was made, I was glad to see that Moncrieff took every precaution against a surprise. The caravan was made the centre of a square, the waggons being "laggered" around it. The fire was lit and the dinner cooked close beside a sheltering _barranca_, and as soon as this meal was discussed the fire was extinguished.
"Then came still evening on,"
and we all gathered together for prayer. Even the Gauchos were summoned, though I fear paid but little attention, while Moncrieff, standing bare-headed in the midst of us, read a chapter from the Book by the pale yellow light of the western sky. Then, still standing--
"Brothers, let us pray," he said.
Erect there, with the twilight shadows falling around him, with open eyes and face turned skywards, with the sunset"s after-glow falling on his hard but comely features, his plaid depending from his broad shoulders, I could not help admiring the man. His prayer--and it was but brief--had all the trusting simplicity of a little child"s, yet it was in every way the prayer of a man communing with his G.o.d; in every tone thereof was breathed belief, reliance, grat.i.tude, and faith in the Father.
As he finished, Dugald pressed my arm and pointed eastwards, smiling. A star had shone out from behind a little cloud, and somehow it seemed to me as if it were an angel"s eye, and that it would watch over us all the live-long night. Our evening service concluded with that loveliest of hymns, commencing--
"O G.o.d of Bethel, by whose hand Thy children still are fed; Who through this weary wilderness Hath all our fathers led."
He gave it out in the old Scotch way, two lines at a time, and to the tune "Martyrdom."
It was surely appropriate to our position and our surroundings, especially that beautiful verse--
"Oh, spread Thy covering wings around, Till all our wanderings cease, And at our Father"s loved abode Our souls arrive in peace."
We now prepared for rest. The sentries were set, and in a short time all was peace and silence within our camp. More than once during the night the collies--dogs brought out by Moncrieff"s men--gave an uneasy bark or two, their slumbers being probably disturbed by the cry of some night bird, or the pa.s.sing of a prowling fox.
So, wrapped in our guanaco robes--the benefit of which we felt now--my brothers and I slept sweetly and deeply till the sun once more rose in the east.
Soon all was bustle and stir again.
Thus were our days spent on the road, thus our evenings, and eke our nights. And at the end of some days we were still safe and sound, and happy. No one sick in the camp; no horse or mule even lame; while we were all hardening to travel already.
So far, hardly anything had happened to break the even tenour of our journey. Our progress, however, with so much goods and chattels, and over such roads, was necessarily slow; yet we never envied the lumbering diligence that now and then went rattling past us.
We saw many herds of wild horses. Some of these, led by beautiful stallions, came quite close to us. They appeared to pity our horses and mules, condemned to the shafts and harness, and compelled to work their weary lives away day after day. Our beasts were slaves. They were free--free as the breezes that blew over the pampas and played with their long manes, as they went thundering over the plains. We had seen several ostriches, and my brothers and I had enjoyed a wild ride or two after them. Once we encountered a puma, and once we saw an armadillo. We had never clapped eyes on a living specimen before, but there could be no mistaking the gentleman in armour. Not that he gave us much time for study, however. Probably the creature had been asleep as we rounded the corner of a gravel bank, but in one moment he became alive to his danger. Next moment we saw nothing but a rising cloud of dust and sand; lo! the armadillo was gone to the Antipodes, or somewhere in that direction--buried alive. Probably the speed with which an armadillo--there are several different species in the Silver West--disappears at the scent of any one belonging to the _genus h.o.m.o_, is caused by the decided objection he has to be served up as a side-dish.
He is excellent eating--tender as a chicken, juicy as a sucking-pig, but the honour of being roasted whole and garnished is one he does not crave.
Riding on ahead one day--I had soon got tired of the monotony of driving, and preferred the saddle--at a bend of the road I came suddenly upon two hors.e.m.e.n, who had dismounted and were lying on a patch of sward by the roadside. Their horses stood near. Both sprang up as I appeared, and quick as lightning their hands sought the handles of the ugly knives that depended in sheaths from their girdles. At this moment there was a look in the swarthy face of each that I can only describe as diabolical. Hatred, ferocity, and cunning were combined in that glance; but it vanished in a moment, and the air a.s.sumed by them now was one of cringing humility.
"The Gaucho malo," I said to myself as soon as I saw them. Their horses were there the n.o.bler animals. Bitted, bridled, and saddled, the latter were in the manner usual to the country, the saddle looking like a huge hillock of skins and rags; but rifles were slung alongside, to say nothing of bolas and la.s.so. The dress of the men was a kind of nondescript garb.
Shawls round the loins, tucked up between their legs and fastened with a girdle, did duty as breeches; their feet were encased in _potro_ boots, made of the hock-skin of horses, while over their half-naked shoulders hung ponchos of skin, not without a certain amount of wild grace.
Something else as well as his rifle was lashed to the saddle of one of these desert gipsies, and being new to the country, I could not help wondering at this--namely, a guitar in a case of skin.
With smiles that I knew were false one now beckoned me to alight, while the other unslung the instrument and began to tune it. The caravan must have been fully two miles behind me, so that to some extent I was at the mercy of these Gauchos, had they meant mischief. This was not their plan of campaign, however.
Having neighed in recognition of the other horses, my good nag stood as still as a statue; while, with my eyes upon the men and my hand within easy distance of my revolver, I listened to their music. One sang while the other played, and I must confess that the song had a certain fascination about it, and only the thought that I was far from safe prevented me from thoroughly enjoying it. I knew, as if by instinct, however, that the very fingers that were eliciting those sweet sad tones were itching to clutch my throat, and that the voice that thrilled my senses could in a moment be changed into a tiger yell, with which men like these spring upon their human prey.
On the whole I felt relieved when the rumble of the waggon wheels fell once more on my ears. I rode back to meet my people, and presently a halt was made for the midday feed.
If aunt desired to feast her eyes on the Gaucho malo she had now a chance.
They played to her, sang to her, and went through a kind of wild dance for her especial delectation.
"What romantic and beautiful blackguards they are!" was the remark she made to Moncrieff.
Moncrieff smiled, somewhat grimly, I thought.
"It"s no" for nought the cland[4] whistles," he said in his broadest, canniest accents.
These Gauchos were hunting, they told Moncrieff. Had they seen any Indians about? No, no, not an Indian. The Indians were far, far south.
Aunt gave them some garments, food, and money; and, with many bows and salaams, they mounted their steeds and went off like the wind.
I noticed that throughout the remainder of the day Moncrieff was unusually silent, and appeared to wish to be alone. Towards evening he beckoned to me.
"We"ll ride on ahead," he said, "and look for a good bit of camping-ground."