But Paganel had not finished his inquiries. Where was this prisoner? What was he doing? When had Thalcave heard of him? All these questions thronged his mind at once. He did not have to wait long for answers, but learnt that the European was a slave of one of the Indian tribes that scour the plains.
“But where was he last?” asked Paganel.
“With the cacique Calfoucoura,” answered Thalcave.
“On the line we have been following?”
“Yes.”
“And who is this cacique?”
“The chief of the Poyuches Indians; a man with two tongues and two hearts.”
“That is to say, false in word and in deed,” said Paganel, after translating to his companions this beautiful metaphor of the Indian language. “And can we rescue our friend?” he added.
“Perhaps so, if your friend is still in the hands of the Indians.”
“And when did you hear of him?”
“A long time ago, and, since then, the sun has brought back two summers to the sky.”
Glenarvan’s joy could not be described. This answer coincided exactly with the date of the document. But one question remained to be asked.
“You speak of a prisoner,” said Paganel; “but were there not three?”
“I do not know,” replied Thalcave.
“And you know nothing of their actual situation?”
“Nothing.”
This last word ended the conversation. It was possible that the three prisoners had been separated a long time. But the substance of the Patagonian’s information was that the Indians spoke of a European who had fallen into their power. The date of his captivity, the place where he must have been, everything, even to the Patagonian phrase used to express his courage, related evidently to Captain Harry Grant.
Their progress was now somewhat slow and difficult; their next object being to reach and cross the river Colorado, to which at length their horses brought them. Here Paganel’s first care was to bathe “geographically” in its waters, which are colored by a reddish clay. He was surprised to find the depth so great as it really was, this being the result of the snow having melted rapidly under the first heat of summer. The width likewise of this stream was so considerable that it was almost impossible for their horses to swim across; but they happily discovered a sort of weir-bridge, of wattles looped and fastened together, which the Indians were in the habit of using; and by its aid the little troop was enabled to pass over to the left bank, where they rested for the night.
XVII
A Serious Necessity
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 enclosure 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 oxhide, 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
