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CHAPTER XX
THE HORSES LOST – UNPLEASANT PROSPECTS – FOUND – SHORT RATIONS – A STRANGE HUNT – A STERN CHASE – THE MYSTERY SOLVED – THE CABEZA DEL MAR – SAFELY ACROSS – A DAMP NIGHT – CABO NEGRO AGAIN.
We had a short march to make next day, and it was nearly noon, therefore, when I'Aria started off on his usual morning task of driving up the horses.
In the evening, as one may rely on their not straying very far, the horses are turned loose, after being unsaddled. In fact, no other method would be practicable, for if they were kept picketed during the night they would not be able to graze, and would soon become useless. As they all follow the bell-mare, one is always sure of finding them together, even should they stray three or four miles in the night, which, although it does occasionally occur, is quite exceptional. That, however, this necessity of leaving the horses at liberty may give rise to considerable inconvenience, and possibly bring one into the most serious dilemmas, we had an opportunity of discovering at the cost of some anxiety and a day's hard labour.
After I'Aria had been gone about an hour we began to wonder at his prolonged absence; but as there had been a strong breeze during the night, it was very probable, as Gregorio suggested, that the horses had wandered some distance in search of a sheltered valley. But another hour elapsed, and still I'Aria did not appear. Guillaume and François then went off in different directions to continue the search, agreeing to light a fire should either of them sight the horses.
We in the meantime were left a prey to very disagreeable reflections, though as yet we had no strong grounds for fearing the worst. We kept an anxious watch for the first signs of smoke, especially in the direction I'Aria had taken, as he must have covered five or six miles by the time he had been gone. To our dismay he presently turned up, however, very tired and footsore, without having seen a trace of the horses anywhere. Matters now began to look really serious, but we still comforted ourselves with the hope that François or Guillaume would be more successful. But they too, after a time, came back, bringing the same dismal story. The situation looked gloomy; a hundred suppositions were hazarded as to what could have become of the horses. I'Aria said he had "cut the trail" on the side he had taken without success, and Guillaume and François having done the same, it was clear that the only direction in which the horses could have gone was over the plain at the back of our camp, though what could have induced them to leave the pasturage of the valley for the barren upland it was hard to understand. Meanwhile there was nothing to be done but immediately make search for them in that direction, though our prospects of finding them seemed small indeed. Should we not do so we should have to accomplish the rest of our journey to Sandy Point on foot. We had eaten our last round of guanaco meat that morning, so that a four days' walk on empty stomachs, apart from being an unpleasant undertaking, was one which it was a question whether our powers were equal to compassing. We might, it is true, opportunely meet some trader on the way, from whom we might obtain provisions; but, on the other hand, we might not be so fortunate; and, on the principle that it never rains but it pours, we were justified in considering the latter contingency as the probable one. We commenced our task, therefore, with feelings the reverse of cheerful. Leaving Storer in the camp, we all went on to the plain, and started off in different directions towards the distant hills that bound it. A fire, should any of us be successful, was to immediately communicate the news to the others.
With my eyes bent on the ground, eagerly scanning it for any trace of a hoof mark, I walked slowly along, occasionally giving a glance over the plain, in the hopes of seeing the welcome column of smoke rise up into the air. But time went on, and my hopes of success grew fainter and fainter. Gregorio had expressed a fear that the horses had got on to the Indian trail to Sandy Point; and taking to it, had gone off at a trot towards Cabo Negro, on whose pastures they were "at home," or "aquerenciado," as the natives say. The possibility of their having done so assumed more and more the feature of a probability, as hour after hour passed, and I was still only half-way across the plain, and no traces of the objects of my search as yet forthcoming. In fact, it seemed useless to continue plodding on farther, and instinctively I broke off, and turned to the left, observing that there the plain ended in a hilly country, where, although I'Aria had assured us he had searched in that direction, it certainly seemed more likely that the horses would be, supposing they had not gone to Sandy Point. It was a happy inspiration of mine; I had not gone half a dozen yards down a grassy ravine before, turning a sharp bend, I suddenly came upon the whole troop, quietly grazing at their ease, in supreme indifference as to the trouble and anxiety they had caused half a dozen human beings for the last five or six hours. My first step was to throw a few lighted matches into the long dry grass, which I left to do their work, and then, by dint of some patience and cunning, I managed to persuade one of the tamest horses to allow me to get my arm round its neck and effect its capture. Improvising a kind of bridle from my scarf, I mounted, and driving the horses together, conveyed them towards the camp, not a little proud and elated at my achievement, which was due rather to good fortune than judgment, for, had I followed out the plan of search we had agreed upon, who knows what the upshot would have been? Meanwhile, the matches had had due effect; fanned by the breeze, the fire spread quickly, and soon the ravine was ablaze across its whole breadth, a mighty column of smoke being whirled high into the air, carrying, doubtless, intense relief into the hearts of my companions, who were still toiling over the plains.
I soon got to the camp with my charges, and was thankful to be able to lie down and rest after my exertions. One by one the others dropped in, and, as may be imagined, we were all equally elated at so fortunate an issue of a contretemps, which might have had the most serious consequences, – just on the eve too, of the conclusion of a trip otherwise particularly free from dangerous mishaps.
It was too late to set out that afternoon, so we passed the remainder of the day in trying to shoot some duck for supper. In the pleasure of finding our horses again, we were not disposed to grumble at minor hardships, and cheerfully, therefore, we endeavoured to make as good a supper off a brace of small duck, which was all we could kill, as eight hungry people might be expected to do.
After a cup of coffee next morning we drew our belts a little tighter, and set out, keeping a sharp look-out, on the forlorn chance of an ostrich coming within coursing distance. But during the whole of that day's march neither beast nor fowl, save a fox or two, showed itself, and as our appetites, which we had kept in tolerable subjection during daytime, began loudly to assert themselves towards sundown, the spirit which reigned among us was by no means a cheerful one. We were just discussing the faint probability that existed of our meeting an Indian trader before reaching the Colony, when suddenly we descried a man riding along the trail towards us, and driving two horses before him. With a unanimous shout of delight we all galloped forward to meet this welcome stranger, on whose provisions we meant to make a friendly but extensive raid. But, to our astonishment, on perceiving us, he suddenly drew up his horse, hesitated for a moment, and then dashed away over the pampa. Without stopping to inquire what could be the motive of such extraordinary behaviour, and seeing only that our chance of supper was vanishing as fast as four legs could carry it, we all clapped spurs to our steeds, and galloped after him with as much alacrity as he had shown. The harder we went, the more he urged his horse along, occasionally looking back in a state of evident terror. For five minutes or so this strange man-chase continued, neither pursued nor pursuers gaining any ground on one another, but then we gradually drew nearer to our quarry, whose horse was already beginning to show signs of distress. We were soon within earshot, and called loudly on him to stop, saying that we were friends. Whether he heard us or not I don't know, but the effect of our shouting was that he redoubled his efforts, and for a time the chase again became doubtful.
But we were not to be beat; curiosity to know this man's motives for running away from us as if we were wild beasts, combined with an equally strong desire to obtain some provisions from the amply filled saddle-bags which were gliding along in front of us, kept us to our work, and we felt that till our horses dropped this queer quarry must be followed. The spurt he had put on soon died away, and then we crept up to him again, wild with excitement, and giving vent to some sounding "view-holloas," which, now I come to think of it, may have possibly increased the terrors of the poor man's situation. But everything comes to an end, even a stern chase, and soon Gregorio was within ten or twelve yards of the unknown. "Párase amigo, soy Gregorio," he called out several times, and at last, feeling G.'s hand on his shoulder, the man did stop. In a second or two we were all up, more or less breathless with the run. The man, with whom Gregorio was now rapidly conversing in Spanish, looked very pale and frightened at first, but gradually the expression on his face brightened as he listened to Gregorio's explanations, and eventually he even began to smile. We, meanwhile, eager to know the solution of the mystery, pressed Gregorio to solve it. It appeared that this man was a convict, who had escaped from Sandy Point two days before, and having "requisitioned" two Government horses, was now on his way to the Santa Cruz river, on the other side of which he would be free from pursuit. When he saw us coming towards him at a gallop, he had been seized with a sudden panic, thinking we might want to capture him, and had galloped off, with the results known.
Of course we could not ask for any of his provisions as he would require them much more than we should; so, after exchanging a few words with him, we left him, and proceeded to rejoin Storer, who had remained behind with the horses whilst we had been engaged on our novel hunt.
The incident furnished us with matter for conversation for a time, but it was not long before we came back to the more important topic of food, for we were now all of us really faint with hunger, and our prospects of getting anything for the next thirty-six hours were faint indeed.
Our goal that evening was the "Cabeza del Mar," an arm of the sea which runs for some distance inland, and which, at a certain point, is fordable at low water if the wind is not blowing strongly from an unfavourable direction. As we rode along we caught a glimpse of the sea itself – a welcome sight, and forgetting our hunger for a moment we gave a loud cheer.
At about seven o'clock, just as it was getting dark, we arrived at the "Cabeza del Mar." We found that we should not be able to ford it for four or five hours; and as we were anxious to get to Cabo Negro as soon as possible, in order to break our prolonged fast, we decided on passing that night, rather than wait till next morning. Having relieved the packhorses of their loads we sat down by the fire and brewed some coffee with the last spoonfuls that remained to us of that comfort, and having drunk it, nothing remained for us but to wait and dream of the meal we meant to devour on the first opportunity.
We tried to snatch a nap, but few of us succeeded in doing so, as hunger kept us awake, and so the hours dragged their slow length wearily along, whilst we sat and waited for the tide to serve. To add to the discomforts of our plight, the sky covered over and the rain began to fall, and the night got so dark that we almost thought we should not be able to cross over. However, the time came when we thought the tide ought to serve, and we rode down to the water to inspect matters. Occasionally a moonbeam breaking through the thick rain-clouds allowed us to get a glimpse of the rocks in the middle of the water; and our guides were thus able to judge the right moment for making the attempt. There was, as they said, just the possibility of the water not being quite low enough to enable us to cross without more or less of a ducking, and besides, in the darkness, the leader might mistake the way, and a false step would land us into a rocky bottom, where we might flounder hopelessly about, and in all probability get unhorsed, and God knows what besides.
These considerations served to make us feel rather uncomfortable when the moment arrived for us to commit ourselves to the chances that might be awaiting us in the dark mass of water which swept eddying swiftly past us, and but for the acute pangs of hunger we should certainly have deferred the experiment until daytime. But no time was to be lost, so, ranging in single file behind I'Aria, who was acting as guide, we started – the other horses, with Guillaume and Gregorio driving them, following. For a few seconds there was a great deal of splashing and shouting, incidental on the objections shown by the packhorses to take the water; but soon they were all in and fairly on their way. Then came a few seconds' silence, as we drew into deep water, every one cautiously following his leader, so as to be able to rein in in time should the latter come to grief. Suddenly I'Aria gave a cry, and through the darkness we could dimly see him floundering about, his horse having evidently lost footing. After splashing about for some seconds, however, he got all right again, and calling out to us to keep more to the left, he moved on. The water was now up to our knees, and at each step it got deeper, but fortunately our horses still kept their footing, and soon the worst was over, and the bank was reached without any mishap having occurred.
All the dogs had remained on the other side, crying and yelling in a gloomy concert, as they saw us leaving them behind; but as soon as they saw us ride up on to the plain, they plunged into the water, and swam over in no time.
After having counted the horses and examined their packs, which had all got well drenched, as we ourselves had, we continued our ride, with the intention of marching the whole night, so as to arrive at Cabo Negro in the morning, for we were now positively frantic with hunger. For a time, notwithstanding the intense darkness, we managed to get along pretty well, but presently we found that we had got off the trail somehow, and we had to stop, whilst the guides blundered about in the darkness, searching for it. Then, after we had got on to it once more, the horses shied at a big white stone lying on the road, and bolted in all directions, and of course had to be got together again – a task which involved nearly an hour's delay.
Apart from these mishaps, our progress was necessarily so slow, owing to the darkness, that we at last came to the conclusion that after all it would be better to halt where we were, and proceed at daybreak. Acting on this determination, we immediately unsaddled, and, too tired to put up the tents, rolled ourselves up in our furs, and slept, or tried to sleep, till morning. I think this was the unpleasantest night of the whole trip. Faint with hunger, drenched and cold, I could not get repose, although I felt as tired and jaded as could possibly be. The ground too, where we were camped, was stony and hillocky; and when, at the first sign of dawn, I crept out of my furs, my bones were so stiff that I could with difficulty move, my companions being all in an equally bad plight. But we were in good spirits for all that. Four hours' riding would bring us to the wood of Cabo Negro, and there we should get food in abundance. Never had the horses been so quickly saddled and packed as on that morning; within half an hour from commencing operations we were already cantering along the trail.
Scaling the brow of a steep hill we came in view of the familiar landscape – the Straits and the Cordilleras, and not far off the black patches of beechwood round Cabo Negro; and, nestling amid them, the little farm-house on whose stores we projected a determined raid.
My brother and Mr. B. now rode ahead in order to have something ready against our arrival. After two or three hours' sharp riding they reached the farm-house, and without speaking a word rushed off to the kitchen, and laid their hands on and utterly devoured what was to have been the breakfast of the farmer and his family. The farmer appeared on the scene just as they had swallowed the last mouthful, and it appears being no doubt used to such strange visits, seemed less surprised than one would have imagined to see two dirty wild-looking men sitting uninvited in his kitchen, who between them had calmly demolished the morning meal of a whole household.
Having thus satisfied their own immediate wants they applied themselves to catering for ours; and to such good purpose that, by the time we reached our old camp under the beeches of Cabo Negro, we found a good fire already blazing, half a sheep hanging on a tree, ready for roasting, and such stores of bread, eggs, and other provisions as made our eyes glisten and our mouths water. How we feasted need not be told. I think very little of that half sheep remained to be warmed up for supper, and most of the other provisions shared a similar speedy fate.
CHAPTER XXI
CABO NEGRO – HOME NEWS – CIVILISATION AGAIN – OUR DISREPUTABLE APPEARANCE – PUCHO MISSING – THE COMING OF PUCHO – PUCHO'S CHARACTERISTICS.
We had still three days to wait till the date for the arrival of the steamer, and as we by no means liked the idea of having to pass them in Sandy Point, we resolved to remain at Cabo Negro for a couple of days more, and only get into the colony in time to settle with our guides, and make ourselves look a little civilised against going on board.
But as we were naturally most anxious to get our correspondence, my brother rode into Sandy Point to fetch it. He returned, bringing a bagful of letters and newspapers, and we devoted a whole afternoon to their perusal, and to discussing their contents. These letters seemed to bring us back to the world again, to the world and its almost forgotten responsibilities, pains, and pleasures, which but the day before had seemed as remote to us as if we had quitted the earth altogether, and were living in some other planet. How many things seemed to have happened since we had been away, and how the interest in these events was magnified, hearing of them as we did, thousands of miles away from home, after so long an absence! Occurrences which, in the bustle and noise of ordinary existence, would hardly have excited more than few exclamations of surprise, or scarcely a passing thought, now seemed to assume the most important proportions, and were discussed at inordinate length, and with the keenest interest. There was a letter from the gamekeeper, telling with interminable prosiness how cleverly he had surprised, in flagrante delicto, the man whom he had long and so wisely suspected of poaching; how, notwithstanding every care on his part, the severe winter had proved too much for a favourite old setter; and, thanks to his efforts, how extraordinary a number of pheasants there was in the copses, etc. Another from the head stable-man, with intelligence of a similar nature from his department; lengthy documents from the agent, telling how one tenant couldn't pay his rent, how another wouldn't though he could, how one lot of cottages required repairing, and how advantageous to the property, if a fresh lot were built; the peculiarity of all these epistles being the predominance of the bad over the good news. Then were letters telling how A. had married, and "the very last woman one would have thought, too;" how B. had got a divorce, "and no wonder, one might have seen that all along;" how C. had gone off to shoot big game in the Rocky Mountains; and how D. had merely gone and shot himself – and so forth, and so forth; every trivial item affording us a goodly space for lengthy gossip, a luxury which, since our departure for the plains, had so signally failed us. It is only when unable to indulge in it that we find what an important factor the tittle-tattle and small talk of ordinary life is, in general conversation.
There were several papers too in our budget, and we devoured their three-months' old intelligence with no less avidity and eagerness than that with which we had perused our letters.
That day passed, and the next, and then the hour came for us to saddle up once more, and ride in to Sandy Point. As may be imagined, this time we did not jog along behind the pack-horses. Leaving these to the care of the guides, to come on at their leisure, we cantered merrily on alone – along the familiar path by the shore of the Straits. As the huts of Sandy Point came in sight, we began to realise that at last we were getting back to civilisation, and prospectively to England, and already plans of what we were to do on arriving home were formed and discussed. There was only one night more to pass before setting foot on board the steamer which was to take us back to the world; but so impatient were we, that even that short time seemed all too long, and we wondered if it ever would pass.
Soon we were trotting along the streets of Sandy Point; and, reaching Pedro's house, dismounted, and found ourselves under a roof once more! Pedro, advised of our coming, had prepared breakfast for us, and, without more ado, we sat down to it. We handled our knives and forks very awkwardly at first; it required almost an effort to eat in a civilised manner, and, accustomed of late to take our meals in a recumbent position, we by no means felt very comfortable in our chairs. And now, for the first time, the scales fell from our eyes, and the sight of the clean table-cloth and neat room caused us to become aware of our own personal appearance, and the enviable "giftie" was ours, of seeing ourselves as others saw us. The sight was certainly not a delectable one. Our looks and garments were not out of keeping with our late life in the pampas, but, surrounded by cleanliness and civilisation, they were decidedly out of place. We had performed our ablutions as often and as thoroughly as circumstances would permit, but they had not permitted much. The men of our party, particularly, were unpleasant to look at. Their hair had grown long and elfin; their faces were tanned to a dark red-brown, which the dust, and the smoke from the camp-fires had deepened into – well – black; and their unshaven chins were disfigured by a profuse growth of coarse stubble. Our clothes did not bear close inspection, the blood of many a guanaco, the grease of many an ostrich-dinner, the thorn of many a califaté bush, had left their marks; and, altogether, a more ruffianly, disreputable lot than we looked it would be hard to imagine. But hot water, soap, and razors, and a change of raiment, did wonders; and when, after several hours' hard work, we met again we were scarcely able to recognise one another.
We passed the day in settling with the guides, and in packing up our few traps in anticipation of the arrival of the steamer early next morning.
Feeling tired, I went to sleep early, but the comfort I expected from lying between sheets again was by no means vouchsafed me, and the soft mattress and cool sheets, instead of inviting slumber, seemed to frighten it away. I felt half inclined to get up and go to sleep on the floor. However, my eyes closed at last; and from a dream, in which I was once more chasing the ostrich in sight of the memorable Cleopatra Peaks, I was awakened by Mr. Dunsmuir banging at my door, telling me that the steamer had arrived and that it was time to be off. I jumped up and dressed hurriedly, and found all the others ready to go on board. The luggage had already been put into a boat, and there was nothing further to be done but to say good-bye to our guides and walk down to the jetty to embark.
I had only one regret on leaving Sandy Point. The day we arrived at Cabo Negro one of our dogs, called "Pucho," who was rather a favourite of mine, and whom I wished to take with me to England, was suddenly missing. Pucho, a peculiar dog, had joined us under peculiar circumstances at our camp at Laguna Larga. We were quietly sitting round the camp-fire after dinner, when suddenly the dogs jumped up and began to bark furiously at some unseen enemy. We got up and peered out into the dusk, but could see nothing, though it was evident that something there was, for the growls of our dogs increased in earnestness and fury every instant. "A puma!" suggested somebody, but our horses were grazing quietly, so it could not be a puma. "An Indian, or some trader, perhaps!" was another equally unfounded surmise. What could it be? Here, as if to settle the mystery at once, the dogs all rushed out of one accord, and for a few moments we could hear a terrible snarling and growling going on in the distance. It came nearer and nearer, and then the cause of the commotion was explained. Surrounded by our dogs, who were giving it a by no means friendly welcome, a strange dog walked slowly towards the camp-fire. It bore its tail between its legs, seeming half-humbly, half-defiantly, to crave admission into our circle. Its humble demeanour, however, only bore reference to us, for the defiant manner in which it occasionally bared its white teeth, and turned on our dogs whenever they came too near, showed that it cared little for them. We called out in friendly tones, and this settled its bearing for once and for all. It turned round, made one savage dash at one or two of its tormentors, and then calmly made its way towards the fire, looked out for the most comfortable spot, stretched itself leisurely, and lay down with its head resting on its crossed paws, seemingly as much at home as if it had known us all its life. I ventured to stroke it, but my advances were received in a most unfriendly, and, considering its position of alien outcast, audaciously impertinent manner, for it snapped viciously at me. But from the first "Pucho," as we called him, made it a point of distinctly refusing to be patronised. He joined us, he gave us to understand, not on sufferance, not as a suppliant for our favours, not as a guest even, but as an equal; and this status he claimed as regards us only, for as to our dogs, he ignored them completely, though willing, as subsequently appeared, to make use of their good services. He looked sleek and fat, a circumstance which led us to think highly of his powers of speed, as it is by no means easy for a dog to run down a guanaco singly, and most dogs who lose their master, as this dog had evidently done, soon die of starvation. We therefore congratulated ourselves on his arrival, as we hoped he would be able to afford our own dogs help in the chase. But we had grievously reckoned without our host. The next day, on the march, a guanaco was sighted close to us. Now was the time. "Choo! choo! Pucho!" we shouted, expecting to see him speed out like an arrow after the guanaco. But nothing could have been further from his thoughts. He looked first at us and then at the guanaco for a moment, not without interest, perhaps, but certainly without showing the slightest inclination to hostile demonstration. Then, with another look at us, which said as plainly as words could, "Well, that's a guanaco, no doubt, but what then?" he quietly trotted on. We were very angry at seeing our hopes deceived, besides being surprised at his extraordinary demeanour; but Gregorio, giving the dog the benefit of the doubt, said that perhaps it had only been trained to run ostriches, as Indians frequently teach their dogs to do. This seemed plausible enough, and our confidence in Pucho was momentarily restored. Presently an ostrich started up. Now then: "Choo! choo! Pucho!" was the excited cry again. All the other dogs flew out like the wind after the bird, and Pucho followed them. But only at a trot, and apparently merely to judge how the other dogs behaved, for he soon stopped, and contented himself with watching the chase till it disappeared from view, and then he leisurely came back to his usual post at my horse's heels. Everybody was enraged with him; Francisco suggested that being a "bouche inutile," Pucho should be knocked on the head with the bolas; but I could not hear of this, and Pucho's life was spared. And so he remained with us, and I had ample opportunities for studying his peculiar character. As on the first day, so he continued. Although generally there or thereabouts when a distribution of the spoils took place, he never once helped the dogs in the chase. That this did not arise from inability or want of speed, but rather from a sense of his own superior dignity, was shown by the fact of his once having been seen to pursue and catch a fox, a feat none of our other dogs were capable of. Amongst other peculiarities he had a way of mysteriously disappearing if the day's march was too long. "Where is Pucho?" was a frequent cry, and "Thank God, he's gone at last!" was an ejaculation often heard on these occasions. But so sure as the guanaco-rib for dinner was done to a turn, the soup ready, and the fire blazing comfortably, so sure would Pucho suddenly appear on the scene, look out for the most cosy spot near the fire, and cheerfully await his supper, as if nothing had happened.
When, therefore, he was missing at Cabo Negro, I took little notice, thinking he would be sure to turn up. But dinner-time came, and no Pucho; nor did he appear again, even when we went on to Sandy Point.
