Wild Life in the Land of the Giants: A Tale of Two Brothers

by Burt L. Standish

Peter, "human nature is the same all the world over."

  That evening, after supper, Jill asked Peter what his feelings wereparticularly.

  "I don't know," was the reply, "which end of me is uppermost. I feelall bruised and sore, and just as though I had gone in at one end of athrashing machine and come out at the other."

  "Won't you sing us a song to-night, then?" said Castizo, laughing, "orplay on your pipe?"

  "Play, _mon ami_? Pipe, my friend? It'll be when I'm asleep, then."

  "I tell you what it is, you know," said Ritchie. "You wouldn't find it'alf so 'ard on ye if you were to stick more in the saddle."

  "Ah! well," said Peter, "I'll perhaps learn to. Anyhow, I mean to try.Good-night, boys; I'm off to the land of dreams."

  Extra precaution was used to-night to prevent a surprise. Although hehad been riding all day, Castizo intimated his intention of keeping themiddle watch. He knew the Patagonians well, and knew that, while helived, Jeeka would not be forgiven by the chief whom he had made hisbrother-in-law in so heroic a manner. Sooner or later vengeance wouldcome, and it would be sooner rather than later if the northern Indiansshould have their will.

  But the night wore away peacefully, and next day a scout, who had beensent out early to see what was doing at the hostile camp, returned witha morsel of half-burnt wood in his hand. He silently handed it toJeeka. It was cold to the heart.

  The enemy had gone early.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

  A BLINDING SUMMER-SNOWSTORM--PETER AS A HORSEMAN--PETER IN A FIX.

  Such is the exhilarating and toning power of the air on the Pampas, thatthough we had all lain down tired enough, we felt as fresh next morningas mountain trouts.

  The only feeling that remained from our exertions of yesterday was akind of gentle and not unpleasant languor. We were therefore in nogreat hurry to depart. But as towards ten o'clock the clouds began tobank up and obscure the sun in the north and east, and our present campwas not one of the best-positioned, Castizo gave the order fordeparture.

  We had not gone far till up started an ostrich right from under Jill'shorse's nose, and lo! and behold, our first find of a nest--if nest itcould be called.

  As there were but fifteen eggs in it, we were sure they would be fresh,so we quickly appropriated them, the poor bird himself and his mate, whowas not far away, both falling victims to the bolas of the Indians.

  Perhaps it was just as well; it took them away from sorrow.

  A most exemplary parent and husband is the ostrich. The hen bird laysover a score of eggs, and the cock considers it his duty to do thegreater part of the hatching. At all events, he sits on the nest forabout eighteen hours out of the twenty-four, and before he leaves thenest carefully turns every egg over. Then he goes away to stretch hislegs and scratch a bit for his breakfast, which it must be allowed hehas fairly earned. While he is gone it is the hen's turn to brood, sothat between them, in about a month's time, they usually succeed inraising a very large family of the most idiotic-looking chickens it hasever been my good fortune to cast eyes upon.

  There is no close time for the ostrich on the Pampas of Patagonia, andit will probably be a very long time indeed before there is one.Meanwhile, despite hunters, white and brown, wild cats, pumas, andfoxes, the birds thrive and abound in such quantities, that the wonderis that more sportsmen from this country do not go to Patagonia to trytheir luck.

  As we advanced on our journey to-day the weather seemed to grow colderand colder. The wind went down at last. It had not been high all themorning. Then little morsels of snow began to fall. They were nobigger than millet-seeds, but Jeeka shook his head when he saw them,pointed upwards, then around him, and said something to our cacique inPatagonian.

  The millet-seed snow gradually merged into flakes; bigger and bigger didthese grow, till at last we were in the midst of a blinding summer'ssnowstorm.

  It was impossible to see even a few yards ahead, so we formed into line,one going in front of the other, Jeeka and Castizo being ahead. Castizohad a compass. Jeeka seemed to carry a compass in the brain. Heappeared to know every rock, every bush, and every tussock of grass,disguised though they now were in a mantle of snow.

  By and by Castizo came to the rear, where, with heads down and with ourarms often across our faces, leaving it entirely to the horses to followthe trail, Peter, Jill, and I were struggling on.

  "How do you like it?" he said cheerfully to Jill, who was the centrefigure.

  "I've been more agreeably situated many a time," replied Jill.

  "And I've been more agreeably _seat_-uated too," cried Peter, with aglance behind him, which almost cost him the seat he was punning about.For when on horseback, poor Peter was always like the rocking-stone onthe Cornish hills--touch and go. Only the rocking-stone never does go.Peter did frequently, and although the sly dog at first pretended thathe could ride, he had the reckless courage to confess now that he hadbeen mistaken. He would not venture to look up in the air, he said, foranything; and whenever he was rash enough to glance behind him, as hedid now, he had to clutch at the saddle with both hands.

  "Peter!" I shouted, "you'll fall, little boy."

  "He deserves to," said Jill, "after making so despicable a pun."

  "Well," said Castizo, laughing, "seat or no seat, Peter, you will haveto remain in that saddle for many hours to come. You'll have to dinethere, too."

  "Will I, indeed? Well, _mon ami_, before night comes I'll be as soft asa jellyfish or a lightly boiled egg. But never mind, if I'm to be amartyr, here goes. I'm willing."

  Just at that very moment, as if fate were all against Peter, his horsestumbled and the rider tumbled. Then the steed stood stock still, andPeter got up, rubbing himself amid a chorus of laughing. We reallycould not help it, he looked so comical and ridiculous. Castizo had tohold his sides, and Nadi, who was next in front, and of course jumped tothe conclusion that Peter had done it on purpose, and that he was themost humorous youth under the sun, made the Pampa ring with her merrylaughter.

  "He, he, hee-ee!" she laughed. "O Engleese! Engleese!"

  But Peter himself looked as solemn as a judge with the black cap on. Hesimply rubbed himself.

  "That's the way it's done, you see," he said at last. "You thought Iwould remain in the saddle for many hours, did you, my friend? Ah! youdon't know Peter Jeffries yet."

  "Well, Peter," I said, "I should think that falling off would getsomewhat monotonous at last."

  "I _don't_ fall off. The beast pitches me off Come, Jack, don't you sitand grin there like a cub fox at a dead turkey. Get down and give afellow a leg-up."

  I did as told, and Peter was soon seated once more. Nadi departed stilllaughing, for she never could imagine that any one, unless a squaw,would ask a "leg-up." She imagined it was all part of the performance.Peter was evidently a favourite of hers.

  This was still more evident when, about an hour afterwards, wishing toadjust her robe, she rode coolly alongside his horse and, before Petercould tell what she was about, deposited the baby in his arms.

  Peter looked aghast, though he kept firm hold of the child.

  "_Honi soit qui mal y pense_!" he said, solemnly. "Honey, suet,marling-spikes, and pens! I'm in a fix now. Jack, dear boy, are youbehind me? I daren't look round for the world!"

  "I'm here," I answered, choking with laughter.

  "Pray for me, Jack. I'll do as much for you again. Goodness gracious,Jack! if I've got to leave the saddle now, I'll be death of this darlingchild. If the horse should stumble or baby should kick, it's all upwith us; and I haven't made my will either."

  Here the baby sneezed, and Peter swayed unsteadily in the saddle.

  "Hoop!" he cried. "I did think it was all up with me then. Jack, willyou have baby?"

  "Not I, thank you."

  "Jill, you're a dear, good fellow. You'll take the baby, won't you?The mother has gone away forward somewhere. Do, old man. I'll nevercall you Greenie again."

  "I won't
have little copper-face."

  "Well, then," said Peter, doggedly, "if it should sneeze again there'llbe manslaughter. That's all."

  But, greatly to our shipmate's relief, back came Nadi, and once moresecured her darling. Peter smiled now, but he gave a big sigh of reliefthat might have been heard all over the Pampas.

  "You chaps," he said, "boast about your feats of horsemanship; but justlet any of you try riding over the wide wild prairie with a baby in yourarms. Well, I've done that, and don't you forget it."

  The storm grew worse instead of better; the snow fell thicker and