him.By-bye. We'll meet again."
And away went merry-hearted Lyell, leaving sadder hearts behind him.Yes, but sad only for a time. There was a deal to be seen in Australiayet, and Chisholm was not sorry to spend a few months longer in thisqueer country, where everything seems topsy-turvy. But their last dayin the kind and hospitable home of the Thompsons came round, and all toosoon to one at least; and so adieus were spoken and whispered, handswere pressed, ay, and foolish tears were shed by pretty eyes, andhandkerchiefs waved; then the great forest seemed to swallow them up.
The great green and gloomy forest has swallowed our heroes up; but, heypresto! what is this we see? A blue, blue sea in which a brave ship hasjust dropped anchor--a bluer sky that makes the eyes ache to behold;other ships at anchor and boats coming and going from a distant town,only the spires and steeples of which can be seen with the naked eye.On the deck of this ship stand Chisholm, Fred, and Frank, and besidethem a smart naval officer in blue and gold and white.
Yes, you have guessed right. Lyell was the first to greet them when theanchor rattled down into the shallow waters off Buenos Ayres. He hadbeen appointed to a South American station, and here he was, looking ashappy and jolly and red as ever.
"And at present," said Lyell, "I am my own master; so for six weeks I'mat your service."
There was little encouragement for stopping in this city of straightstreets and tame houses, and heat and dust, so they jumped at Lyell'ssuggestion to get on land as soon as possible. Lyell knew some folks,he said, that would "show them a thing or two."
A long journey first in a comfortless train, through a country as leveland lonesome as mid-ocean itself. Hot! it was indeed hot, and they wereglad when the sun went down; for the carriages in which they rode wereover-upholstered, and the paint stood up in soft boiling blisters on thewood-work.
Now the journey is changed to one by river. Not much of a boat, to besure; but then it is comparatively cool, and the scenery is sylvan anddelightful. On once more next day, this time by diligence. Thisconveyance had none of the comfort of the Hyde Park canoe-landau. Itwas just what Lyell called it in pardonable slang, "a rubbly oldconcern--a sort of breed betwixt an orange-box, a leathern portmanteau,and a venerable clothes-basket. They paid a hawser out from its bows,and bent the nags on to that." Frank thought of his elephant ride.
But the country grew more hilly and romantic as they proceeded, and theinns, sad to say, worse and worse. Their beds were inhabited--strangelyso; our heroes did not turn in to study natural history, or they mighthave done so. Indeed they had to rough it. The country grew wilderstill; they had left the diligence with nearly broken bones; boughthones, hired guides, and now they found themselves on the veryboundaries of a savage land. Ha! the fort at last, where Lyell'sfriends lived. Their welcome was a regal one. Half a dozen Scotchmenlived here, four of them married and with grown-up families--quite alittle colony.
They shook hands with Lyell a dozen times. "Oh, man!" they cried, "butyou're welcome." Then they killed the fatted calf.
These good people were farmers; their houses all rough, but wellfurnished; their flocks and herds numerous as the sands by thesea-shore. A wild, lonely kind of a life they led with their wives andtheir little ones, but they were content. There were fish in thestreams and deer in the forest. You had but to tickle the earth with atoasting-fork, and it smilingly yielded up _pommes de terre_ which wouldgrace the table of a prince.
Every soul in the colony was a McSomebody or other; so no wonderChisholm was in his glory, no wonder--
"The nicht drive on wi' sangs and clatter."
When our heroes heard their principal host call out, "Send auld LawrieMcMillan here [his real name was Lorenzo Maximilian] to give us a tune,"they had expected to see some tall old Highlander stride in with thebagpipes, not an ancient, wiry Spaniard, guitar-armed. Is it any wonderChisholm burst out laughing when this venerable ghost began to sing--
"Come under my plaidie, the night's gaun to fa'."
Well, getting such a welcome as this in the midst of a wilderness wasenough to make our heroes forget all former hardships. The dinner was abanquet. There were many dishes that were new to them; but had Frank,who was fastidious as regards eating, known that _lagarto soup_ was madefrom the iguana lizard, a perfect dragon; that curried _potro_ washorse, and that _peludo_-pie was made of armadillo, I don't think hewould have sent his plate twice for either.
Frank trod on the tail of an iguana next day. The dragon, seven feetlong, and fearful to behold, turned and snapped. Frank, armed with astick, would not fly, but fought. The Scotchmen were delighted. Theytossed their bonnets in the air, and shouted "Saint George for merrieEngland!" Never mind, they might laugh as they pleased; but Frankkilled the dragon.
Saint George, as Chisholm now dubbed him, quite won the affection of thellama hunters next day; he was the only one of our heroes who keptalongside the Indians in their furious gallop at the heels of the fleetpacos.
[The _lama pacos_, hunted for its wool, chiefly used in rope andcloth-making.]
All day long Frank was well to the fore, and how he was wishing he couldthrow the lassoo or bolas.
Sweet Lizzie McDonald was the prettiest girl in the fort; she was thewildest huntress as well. She and her brothers "rigged out," as Lyellcalled it, young Frank in native dress; and he rode by her side to thehills next day, presumably in the capacity of cavalier, but really aspupil. And Frank was an apt pupil; he didn't think the time long.
"Lucky dog you," said Lyell, "if I wasn't a sailor, I'd throw myself atLizzie's feet. I wouldn't mind being lassooed by a girl like her.Heigho!"
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
CHASING WILD HORSES--OSTRICH-STALKING--A MOONLIGHT RIDE--A DEED OFBLOOD--LOS INDIOS!--THE FIGHT--VICTORY AND PURSUIT.
Knowing, as we do, how good a horseman Frank was, it is almost needlessto say that before he was one month in this country he was as handy withbolas or lassoo as one of the natives. The former he preferred: itquitted his hands like stone from a sling, next moment the llama orguanaco was down; there was no dragging, no cruelty.
The battue he did not like. But chasing wild horses was quite anotherthing. This was a manly and a useful sport; the very hunted horsesthemselves seemed to like it, and used to stand in herds on heightssniffing the air, as much as to say, "catch me if you can, but I don'tmean to be caught napping." Nor were they; and a chase of this kind wassometimes most exciting. The poor colts that were lassooed were brokenin speedily enough, it must be allowed, but in a manner that was cruelin the extreme; but brutality to animals is the order of the day in thePampas. The bullocks are treated horribly; so, too, are their dogs, andevery animal that comes under the native's domination. The estancia,where our heroes dwelt, was about two hundred yards square; there was afort at one end of it, surrounded by a strong wall covered with a ditchfilled with water--the whole of the little village being near the river.In case of trouble with the Indians, all the colony could take refugehere, and draw up the bridge. The servants were Gauchos. On thearrival of Mr McDonald and his kinsmen, there had at first been manybroils with Los Indios. These treacherous Indians are a flat-facedcopper-hued race, with most forbidding countenances; and lying andthieving seem really to be part and parcel of their education. At allevents, they are adepts at both.
Chisholm wanted one day to go ostrich-stalking, or rhea-hunting youmight better term it. These curious birds are as fleet as the wind, youcannot ride them down in the open; but you can approach them near enoughwith mules, to get a shot when fires are lit here and there on theplain, and the creatures get confused. It had been a long day's sport;and the moon had arisen, and was flooding all the beautiful country withits soft and mellow light, ere the party had got within two leagues ofthe estancia. But they knew the welcome that there awaited them, and soon they rode, slowly but cheerfully, singing as they went. There wouldhave been less music at their hearts, had they seen the expression ofmingled hate and cunning on the faces of those fiends
behind the cactusbush. What were they lurking there for? Why did they not come boldlyforth?
Lizzie and her sister met them at the garden gate. They had beenwatching for the cavalcade for fully an hour, and were rejoiced whentheir song fell upon their listening ears. Everyone was extremely happyand lively that evening; and it was quite ten o'clock before any onethought of retiring. Silence at last fell on the estancia. Higher andhigher rose the moon, flooding the land with light; there isn't a soundto be heard, save the buzz of insect, the call of wild drake, or themournful cry of the owl.
And the night wore on.
It must have been considerably past midnight when suddenly from down theglade where the horses were grazing, there arose a shriek so piercing,so full of wild imploring grief, that it found a response in every heartin the estancia sleeping or awake.
Wild Adventures in Wild Places Page 19
