THEY set out at daybreak. The horses advanced at a brisk pace among the tufts of “paja-brava,” a kind of grass that serves the Indians as a shelter during the storms. At certain distances, but less and less frequent, pools of shallow water contributed to the growth of willows and a certain plant which is found in the neighborhood of fresh water. Here the horses drank their fill, to fortify themselves for the journey. Thalcave, who rode in advance, beat the bushes, and thus frightened away the “cholinas” (vipers), while the agile Thaouka bounded over all obstacles, and aided his master in clearing a passage for the horses that followed.
Early in the afternoon, the first traces of animals were encountered—the bones of an innumerable drove of cattle, in whitened heaps. These fragments did not extend in a winding line, such as animals exhausted and falling one by one would leave behind them. Thus no one, not even Paganel, knew how to explain this chain of skeletons in a space comparatively circumscribed. He therefore questioned Thalcave, who was not at a loss for a reply.
“What is this?” they asked, after Paganel had inquired of the Indian.
“The fire of heaven,” replied the geographer.
“What! the lightning could not have produced such a disaster,” said Tom Austin, “and stretched five hundred head of cattle on the earth!”
But Thalcave reaffirmed it, and he was not mistaken; for the storms of the Pampas are noted for their violence.
At evening they stopped at an abandoned rancho, made of interlaced branches plastered with mud and covered with thatch. This structure stood within an inclosure of half-rotten stakes which, however, sufficed to protect the horses during the night against the attacks of the foxes. Not that they had anything to fear personally from these animals, but the malicious beasts gnawed the halters, so that the horses could escape.
A few paces from the rancho, a hole was dug which served as a kitchen and contained half-cooled embers. Within, there was a bench, a bed of ox-hide, a saucepan, a spit, and a pot for boiling maté. The maté is a drink very much in use in South America. It is the Indian’s tea, consisting of a decoction of leaves dried in the fire, and is imbibed through a straw. At Paganel’s request, Thalcave prepared several cups of this beverage, which very agreeably accompanied the ordinary eatables, and was declared excellent.
The next day they resumed their journey towards the east. About noon a change took place in the appearance of the Pampas, which could not escape eyes wearied with its monotony. The grass became more and more scanty, and gave place to sickly burdocks and gigantic thistles; while stunted nettles and other thorny shrubs grew here and there. Heretofore, a certain moisture, preserved by the clay of the prairie, freshened the meadows; the vegetation was thick and luxuriant. But now a patchy growth, bare in many places, exposed the earth, and indicated the poverty of the soil. These signs of increasing dryness could not be mistaken, and Thalcave called attention to them.
“I am not sorry at this change,” said Tom Austin; “to see always grass, nothing but grass, becomes tiresome before long.”
“But where there is grass there is water,” replied the major.
“Oh, we are not in want,” said Wilson, “and shall find some river on our course.”
However, when Wilson said that the supply of water would not fail he had not calculated for the unquenchable thirst that consumed his companions all that day; and, when he added that they would meet with some stream in their journey he had anticipated too much. Indeed, not only were rivers wanting, but even the artificial wells dug by the Indians were empty. On seeing these indications of dryness increase from mile to mile, Paganel asked Thalcave where he expected to find water.
“At Lake Salinas,” replied the Indian.
“And when shall we arrive there?”
“To-morrow evening.”
The natives ordinarily, when they travel on the Pampas, dig wells, and find water a few feet below the surface; but the travelers, destitute of the necessary implements, could not employ this expedient. It was therefore necessary to obtain a supply in some other way, for, if they did not absolutely suffer from the tormenting desire for drink, no one could entirely allay his thirst.
At evening they halted, after a journey of thirty miles. Every one relied upon a good night to recruit himself after the fatigues of the day; but they were greatly annoyed by a very persistent swarm of mosquitoes, which disappeared, however, after the wind changed.
If the major preserved his calmness in the midst of the petty annoyances of life, Paganel, on the contrary, could not treat the matter so indifferently. He fought the mosquitoes, and sadly regretted the absence of his acid-water, which would have soothed the pain of their bites. Although the major endeavored to console him, he awoke in a very bad humor.
However, he was very easily persuaded to set out at daybreak, for it was important to arrive at Lake Salinas the same day. The horses were very much exhausted: they were dying of thirst; and, although their riders had denied themselves on their account, still their share of water had been very limited. The dryness was to-day even greater, and the heat no less intolerable, with the dusty wind, the simoom of the Pampas.
During the day the monotony of the journey was interrupted. Mulready, who rode in advance, turned back, signaling the approach of a party of Indians. This meeting elicited different opinions. Glenarvan thought of the information that these natives might furnish concerning the shipwrecked seamen of the Britannia. Thalcave, for his part, scarcely enjoyed meeting in his journey the wandering Indians of the plains. He considered them plunderers and robbers, and only sought to avoid them. According to his orders, the little party collected together, and made ready their fire-arms. It was necessary to be prepared for any emergency.
The Indian detachment was soon perceived. It consisted of only ten men, which fact reassured the Patagonian. They approached within a hundred paces, so that they could be easily distinguished. Their high foreheads, prominent rather than receding, their tall forms, and their olive color, showed them to be magnificent types of the Indian race. They were clad in the skins of guanacos, and carried various weapons of war and the chase, while their dexterity in horsemanship was remarkable.
Having halted, they appeared to hold a conference, crying and gesticulating. Glenarvan advanced toward them; but he had not proceeded two yards, when the detachment wheeled about and disappeared with incredible swiftness. The tired horses of the travelers could never have overtaken them.
“The cowards!” cried Paganel.
“They fly too fast for honest men,” said MacNabb.
“What are these Indians?” inquired Paganel of Thalcave.
“Gauchos!” replied the Patagonian.
“Gauchos!” repeated Paganel, turning toward his companions, “Gauchos! We had no need, then, to take such precautions. There was nothing to fear!”
“Why?” asked the major.
“Because the Gauchos are inoffensive peasants.”
“Do you think so, Paganel?”
“Certainly. They took us for robbers, and fled.”
Glenarvan was quite disappointed in not speaking with them, as he expected to obtain additional tidings of the lost sailors; but it was necessary to push on, if they would reach their destination that evening.
At eight o’clock Thalcave, who had gone a little in advance, announced that the lake so long desired was in sight. A quarter of an hour afterward the little party descended the high banks. But here a serious disappointment awaited them,—the lake was dry!