These words, spoken with a noble enthusiasm, excited a deep emotion among Paganel’s hearers. All rose to shake hands with him.
“Yes, my father is there!” cried Robert Grant, devouring the map with his eyes.
“And wherever he is,” replied Glenarvan, “we shall find him, my child. Nothing is more consistent than our friend Paganel’s interpretation, and we must follow without hesitation the course he has indicated. Either Captain Grant is in the hands of countless Indians, or is prisoner in a feeble tribe. In the latter case, we will rescue him. In the former, after ascertaining his situation, we will join the Duncan on the eastern coast, sail to Buenos Aires, and with a detachment, organized by the major, can overcome all the Indians of the Argentine Plains.”
“Yes, yes, your lordship,” answered Captain Mangles; “and I will add that this passage of the continent will be without peril.”
“Without peril, or fatigue,” continued Paganel. “How many have already accomplished it who had scarcely our means for success, and whose courage was not sustained by the grandeur of the undertaking!”
“Sir, sir,” exclaimed Mary Grant, in a voice broken with emotion, “how can I thank a devotion that exposes you to so many dangers?”
“Dangers!” cried Paganel. “Who uttered the word danger?”
“Not I!” replied Robert Grant, with flashing eye and determined look.
“Danger!” repeated Paganel; “does such a thing exist? Moreover, what is the question? A journey of scarcely three hundred and fifty leagues, since we shall proceed in a straight line; a journey which will be accomplished in a favorable latitude and climate; in short, a journey whose duration will be only a month at most. It is a mere walk.”
“Monsieur Paganel,” asked Lady Helena at last, “do you think that, if the shipwrecked sailors have fallen into the power of the Indians, their lives have been spared?”
“Certainly I do, madam. The Indians are not cannibals; far from that, one of my countrymen whom I knew in the Society was three years prisoner among the Indians of the Pampas. He suffered, was ill-treated, but at last gained the victory in this trying ordeal. A European is a useful person in these countries. The Indians know his value, and esteem him very highly.”
“Well then, there is no more hesitation,” said Glenarvan; “we must start, and that, too, without delay. What course shall we take?”
“An easy and agreeable one,” replied Paganel. “A few mountains to begin with; then a gentle descent on the eastern slope of the Andes; and at last a level, grassy, sandy plain, a real garden.”
“Let us see the map,” said the major.
“Here it is, my dear MacNabb. We shall begin at the end of the thirty-seventh parallel on the coast of Chile. After passing through the capital of Araucania, we shall strike the Cordilleras, and descending their steep declivities across the Rio Colorado, we shall reach the Pampas. Passing the frontiers of Buenos Aires, we shall continue our search until we reach the shores of the Atlantic.”
Thus speaking and developing the programme of the expedition, Paganel did not even take the trouble to look at the map spread before him. And he had no need to; educated in the schools of Frézier, Molina, Humboldt, and Miers, his unerring memory could neither be deceived nor baffled. After finishing his plan, he added:
“Therefore, my dear friends, the course is straight. In thirty days we shall accomplish it, and arrive before the Duncan on the eastern shore, since the westerly winds will delay her progress.”
“The Duncan then,” said Captain Mangles, “will cross the thirty-seventh parallel between Cape Corrientes and Cape St. Antonio?”
“Exactly.”
“And whom would you constitute the members of such an expedition?” asked Glenarvan.
“The fewer the better. The only point is to ascertain the situation of Captain Grant, and not to engage in combat with the Indians. I think that Lord Glenarvan, as our chief, the major, who would yield his place to no one, your servant Jacques Paganel—”
“And I!” cried Robert Grant.
“Robert?” said Mary.
“And why not?” answered Paganel. “Travels develop youth. We four, then, and three sailors of the Duncan—”
“What,” exclaimed Captain Mangles, “your lordship does not intercede for me?”
“My dear fellow,” replied Glenarvan, “we shall leave the ladies on board, the dearest objects we have in the world. Who would watch over them, if not the devoted captain of the Duncan?”
“We cannot accompany you, then,” said Lady Helena, whose eyes were dimmed by a mist of sadness.
“My dear wife,” replied Glenarvan, “our journey will be performed with unusual rapidity, our separation will be short, and—”
“Yes, yes; I understand you,” answered Lady Helena. “Go, then, and may you succeed in your enterprise.”
“Besides, this is not a journey,” added Paganel.
“What is it, then?” asked Lady Helena.
“A passage, nothing more. We shall pass, that is all, like honest men, over the country and do all the good possible. ‘Transire benefaciendo’ is our motto.”
With these words the discussion ended. The preparations were begun that very day, and it was resolved to keep the expedition secret, in order not to alarm the Indians. The 14th of October was fixed for the day of departure.
When they came to choose the sailors who were to go, they all
