“A brave boy!” said he.
Glenarvan, however, asked, even while he admired the lad—
“Why, my son, did you not let Thalcave or me try this last chance of saving you?”
“My lord,” replied he, in accents of the liveliest gratitude, “was it not my duty to sacrifice myself, when Thalcave has saved my life, and you are going to save my father?”
XX
Strange Signs
After their first outbursts of joy at meeting were over, Paganel, Austin, Wilson, and Mulready—all who had remained behind, except the major—were conscious of one thing, namely, that they were suffering from thirst. Fortunately, the Guamini flowed at no great distance. They accordingly continued their journey, and at seven o’clock in the morning the little party arrived at the ramada. On seeing its entrance strewn with the bodies of the wolves, it was easy to understand the violence of the attack and the vigor of the defense. The travelers, after fully quenching their thirst, devoted their attention to breakfast in the enclosure. The ostrich-steaks were declared excellent, and the armadillo, roasted in its own covering, was a delicious dish.
“To eat reasonably of this,” said Paganel, “would be ingratitude towards Providence. We really must eat immoderately.”
And he did so accordingly—but was not sick, thanks to the clear water of the Guamini, which appeared to possess superior digestive properties.
At ten o’clock Glenarvan gave the signal for departure. The water-bottles were filled, and they set out. The horses, being greatly revived, evinced much spirit, and maintained an easy and almost continuous canter. The next morning they crossed the boundary which separates the Argentine Plains from the Pampas. Here Thalcave hoped to meet the chiefs in whose hands he doubted not that he should find Harry Grant and rescue him and his two companions from slavery.
Since they had left the Guamini, the travelers noticed, with great satisfaction, a considerable change in the temperature, thanks to the cold winds of Patagonia, which cause continual currents of air. Neither man nor beast had any reason to complain, after suffering so much from dryness and heat. They therefore pushed on with courage and confidence. But, whatever might have been said, the country seemed to be entirely uninhabited, or, to use a more exact word, “disinhabited.”
Frequently they skirted the shores of freshwater lagoons, on whose banks, in the shelter of the bushes, tiny wrens skipped and melodious larks warbled, in company with the brilliant-plumaged tanagers. These pretty birds gayly fluttered about, heedless of the haughty starlings that strutted on the banks like soldiers with their epaulettes and red breasts. In the thorny coppices the nests of the annubis swung like hammocks, and on the shores of the lagoons magnificent flamingoes, marching in regular file, spread their fiery-colored wings to the wind. Their nests were seen, by thousands together, like a small village, in the shape of truncated cones a foot high. The birds were not startled at the approach of the travelers, which was contrary to Paganel’s calculations.
“I have been curious for a long time,” said he to the major, “to see a flamingo fly.”
“Well,” said MacNabb.
“Now, since I have an opportunity, I shall profit by it.”
“Do so, Paganel.”
“Come with me, major, and you too, Robert; I need witnesses.”
And Paganel, leaving his companions to go on, proceeded towards the flock of flamingoes, followed by Robert and the major. Arriving within range, Paganel fired a blank charge (for he would not needlessly destroy even a bird), and all the flamingoes flew away, while the geographer gazed at them attentively through his glasses.
“Well,” said he to the major, when the flock had disappeared, “did you see them fly?”
“Certainly,” replied MacNabb; “you could not do otherwise, unless you were blind. But let us hasten on, for we have fallen a mile behind.”
When he had joined his companions, Paganel found Glenarvan in excited conversation with the Indian, whom he did not appear to understand. Thalcave had frequently stopped to examine the horizon, and each time his countenance expressed a lively astonishment. Glenarvan, not seeing his ordinary interpreter present, had attempted, but in vain, to question the Patagonian. So, as soon as he perceived the geographer at a distance, he cried—
“Come, friend Paganel, Thalcave and I can scarcely succeed in understanding each other.”
Paganel conversed a few moments with the Indian, and, turning to Glenarvan, said—
“Thalcave is astonished at a circumstance that is really strange.”
“What?”
“At meeting neither Indians, nor any traces of them, on these plains, which are usually furrowed with their trails, whether they are driving home the cattle stolen from the ranchos, or going to the Andes to sell their zorillo carpets and whips of braided leather.”
“And to what does Thalcave attribute this abandonment?”
“He cannot tell; he is astonished. That is all.”
“But what Indians did he expect to find in this part of the Pampas?”
“The very ones who have had foreign prisoners; those natives who are commanded by the caciques Calfoucoura, Catriel, and Yanchetruz.”
“Who are these caciques?”
“Chiefs of tribes that were very powerful thirty years ago, before they were driven beyond the sierras. Since that time they have been subdued as much as an Indian can be, and now scour the Pampas as well as the province of Buenos Aires. I am therefore astonished, like Thalcave, at not encountering traces of them in a country where they generally pursue the calling of plunderers.”
“Well, then,” inquired Glenarvan, “what course ought we to take?”
“I will see,” replied Paganel.
After a few moments’ conversation with Thalcave, he said—
“This is his advice, which seems to me very wise. We must continue our journey to the east as far as Fort Independence; and there, if we have no news of Captain Grant, we shall at least know what has become of the Indians of the plain.”
“Is Fort Independence far?”
“No; it is situated at Tandil, sixty miles distant.”
“And when shall we arrive there?”
“On the evening of
