In Far Bolivia Part 39

A land, it is true, where wild beasts lurk and prowl, and where unknown tribes of savages wander hither and thither and hunt and fight, but all as free as the wind that wantons through their forest trees.

The boats were paddled several miles up-stream to a place where the scenery was more open.

At every bend and reach of the river Roland expected to find Benee waiting for them. Perhaps he had built a hut and was living by fis.h.i.+ng-rod and gun.

But no Benee was visible and no hut.

Together the two friends, Roland and d.i.c.k, accompanied by Charlie and Brawn, took their way across the plain and through the scrub, towards a lofty, cone-shaped hill that seemed to dominate all the scenery in its immediate neighbourhood.

To the very top of this mountain they climbed, agreed between themselves not to look back until they had reached the summit, in order that the wild beauty of this lone lorn land should burst upon them in all its glory, and at once.

They kept to their resolution, and were amply rewarded.

As far as eye could reach in any direction was a vast panorama of mountain, forest, and stream, with many a beautiful lake glittering silvery in the suns.h.i.+ne.

But no smoke, no indication of inhabitants anywhere.

"It seems to be quite an untenanted country we have struck," said d.i.c.k.

"All the better for us, perhaps, d.i.c.k," said Roland, "for farther we cannot proceed until poor Benee comes. He ought to have been here before now. But what adventures and dangers he may have had to pa.s.s through Heaven and himself only know."

"Charlie," he continued, "in the event of Benee not turning up within the next week or two, remember the task of guiding us to the very palace gates of the cannibal king devolves upon you."

"You speakee me too muchee fly-high Englese," said Charlie. "But Charlie he thinkee he understand. You wantee me takee you to de king's gate. I can do."

"That is enough, Charlie, and we can trust you. You have hitherto been very faithful, and what we should do without you I know not."

"Now, d.i.c.k, I guess we'll get down a little more speedily than we came up."

"We'll try, Roland, old man."

All preparations were now made to camp near to the river, where the canoes were moored.

They did not expect any attack by armed Indians, nevertheless it was deemed well to be on the safe side.

Spades and shovels were accordingly brought into use, and even before sunset a deep trench and embankment were thrown up around the tents, and at nightfall sentries were posted at each corner.

For a few days the weather was so cold and stormy that there was little comfort in either shooting or fis.h.i.+ng. It cleared up after this, however, and at noon the sun was almost too hot.

They found caves in the rocks by the river-side in which were springs bursting and bubbling up through limestone rocks, and quartz as white as the driven snow. The water was exquisitely cool and refres.h.i.+ng.

The days were spent in exploring the country all around and in shooting, princ.i.p.ally for the purpose of keeping the larder well supplied.

Luckily the Indians were very easy to please in the matter of food, though their captains liked a little more luxury.

But this land was full of game of every sort, and the river was alive with fish, and so unsophisticated were these that they sprang at a hook if it were baited only with a morsel of glittering mica picked off a rock.

What with fish and fowl and flesh of small deer, little wild pigs and the young of the tapir, there would be very little fear of starvation should they remain here for a hundred years.

Far up the Maya-tata canoe excursions were made, and at every bend of this strange river the scenery seemed more delightfully wild, silent, and beautiful.

"Heigh-ho!" said d.i.c.k one day. "I think I should not mind living here for years and years, did I but know that poor Peggy was safe and well."

"Ah! yes, that is the ever-abiding anxiety, but we are not to lose heart, are we?"

"No," said d.i.c.k emphatically. "If the worst should come to the worst, let us try to look fate fearlessly in the face, as men should."

"Bravo, d.i.c.k!"

The evenings closed in at an unconscionably early hour, as they always do in these regions, and at times the long forenights were somewhat irksome.

I have not said much about the captains of the great canoes. With one exception, these were half-castes, and spoke but little.

The exception was Don Rodrigo, who in his time had been a great traveller.

He was a man of about fifty, strongly built, but as wiry withal as an Arab of the desert.

Genial was he too, and while yarning or playing cards--the cigarette for ever in his mouth, sometimes even two--there was always a pleasant smile playing around his mouth and eyes.

He liked our young heroes, and they trusted him. Indeed, Brawn had taken to the man, and often as he squatted in the large tent of an evening, playing cards or dominoes with the boys, big Brawn would lay his honest head down on Rodrigo's knee with a sigh of satisfaction and go off to sleep.

Rodrigo could sing a good Spanish song, and had a sweet melodious voice that would have gone excellently well with a guitar accompaniment; but guitar there was none.

Versatile and clever, nevertheless, was Rodrigo, and he had manufactured a kind of musical instrument composed of pieces of gla.s.s and hard wood hung on tape bands across a board. While he sang, Rodrigo used to beat a charming accompaniment with little pith hammers.

Some of his songs were very merry indeed and very droll, and all hands used to join in the chorus, even the white men and Indians outside.

So the boys' days were for the time being somewhat of the nature of a long picnic or holiday.

The story-telling of an evening helped greatly to wile the time away.

Neither d.i.c.k nor Roland had any yarns to spin, but Charlie had stories of his wild and adventurous life in the bush, which were listened to with much pleasure. On the other hand, Rodrigo had been everywhere apparently, and done everything, so that he was the chief story-teller.

The man's English was fairly good, with just a little of the Peruvian l.a.b.i.al accent, which really added to its attractiveness, while at times he affected the Mexican drawl.

Around the camp-fire I have seldom or never known what may be called systematic yarn-spinning. Everything comes spontaneously, one simple yarn or wild adventure leading up to the other. If now and then a song intervenes, all the better, and all the more likely is one to spend a pleasant evening either in camp or in galley on board s.h.i.+p.

Don Rodrigo did at times let our heroes have some tales that made their scalps creep, but they liked him best when he was giving them simple narratives of travel, and for this reason: they wanted to learn all they could about the country in which they now were.

And Rodrigo knew it well, even from Arauco on the western sh.o.r.e to the great marsh-lands of the Paraguay or the mountain fastnesses of Albuquerque on the east.

But the range of Rodrigo's travels was not bounded by Brazil, or the great Pacific Ocean itself. He had been a cow-boy in Mexico; he had bolo'd guanacos on the Pampas; he had wandered among the Patagonians, or on fleet horses scoured their wondrous plains; he had dwelt in the cities, or call them "towns", if so minded, that border the northern sh.o.r.es of the Straits of Magellan; he had even visited Tierra del Fuego--the land of fire--and from the black boats of savages had helped to spear the silken-coated otters of those wild and stormy seas; and he had sailed for years among the glorious sunlit islands of the Southern Pacific.

"As to far Bolivia," he said one evening, while his eyes followed the rings of pale-blue smoke he emitted as they rose to the tent-roof. "As to far Bolivia, dear boys, well, you've seen a good slice of the wilder regions of it, but it is to La Paz you must some day go, and to the splendid fresh-water ocean called the t.i.ticaca.

"Lads, I never measured it, but, roughly guessing, I should say that it is over one hundred miles in length, and in some places fifty wide."