following question, which the latter could little expect:
"Mr. Harris," he asked, "you have not met a Portuguese, named Negoro,
in the night?"
"Negoro?" replied Harris, in the tone of a man who does not understand
what is said. "Who is this Negoro?"
"He was the cook on board," replied Dick Sand, "and he has disappeared."
"Drowned, perhaps," said Harris.
"No, no," replied Dick Sand. "Yesterday evening he was still with us,
but during the night he has left us, and he has probably ascended the
steep bank of this river. So I asked you, who have come from that side,
if you had not met him."
"I have met nobody," replied the American; "and if your cook has
ventured alone into the forest, he runs a great risk of going astray.
Perhaps we shall overtake him on the way."
"Yes; perhaps!" replied Dick Sand.
When the two returned to the grotto, breakfast was ready. It was
composed, like the supper of the evening before, of alimentary
conserves, of corned beef and of biscuit. Harris did honor to it, like
a man whom nature had endowed with a great appetite.
"Let us go," said he; "I see that we shall not die of hunger on the
way! I shall not say as much for that poor devil of a Portuguese, of
whom our young friend has spoken."
"Ah!" said Mrs. Weldon, "Dick Sand has told you that we have not seen
Negoro again?"
"Yes, Mrs. Weldon," replied the novice. "I desired to know if Mr.
Harris had not met him."
"No," replied Harris; "so let us leave that deserter where he is, and
think of our departure--whenever you are ready, Mrs. Weldon."
Each took the pack which was intended for him. Mrs. Weldon, assisted by
Hercules, placed herself on the horse, and the ungrateful little Jack,
with his gun strapped on his back, straddled the animal without even
thinking of thanking him who had put that excellent beast at his
disposal. Jack, placed before his mother, then said to her that he
would know how to lead the gentleman's horse very well.
They then gave him the bridle to hold, and he did not doubt that he was
the veritable head of the caravan.
* * * * *
CHAPTER XVI.
ON THE WAY.
It was not without a certain apprehension--nothing seemed to justify
it, however--that Dick Sand, three hundred steps from the steep bank of
the river, penetrated into the thick forest, the difficult paths of
which he and his companions were going to follow for ten days. On the
contrary, Mrs. Weldon herself, a woman and a mother, whom the perils
would make doubly anxious, had every confidence. Two very serious
motives had contributed to reassure her; first, because this region of
the pampas was neither very formidable on account of the natives, nor
on account of the animals which were found there; next, because, under
the direction of Harris, of a guide so sure of himself as the American
appeared to be, they could not be afraid of going astray.
Here is the order of proceeding, which, as far as possible, would be
observed during the journey:
Dick Sand and Harris, both armed, one with his long gun, the other with
a Remington, kept at the head of the little troop.
Then came Bat and Austin, also armed, each with a gun and a cutlass.
Behind them followed Mrs. Weldon and little Jack, on horseback; then
Nan and Tom.
In the rear, Acteon, armed with the fourth Remington, and Hercules,
with a hatchet in his belt, closed the march.
Dingo went backwards and forwards, and, as Dick Sand remarked, always
like an uneasy dog seeking a scent. The dog's ways had visibly changed
since the "Pilgrim's" shipwreck had cast it on this sea-coast. It
seemed agitated, and almost incessantly it kept up a dull grumbling,
rather lamentable than furious. That was remarked by all, though no one
could explain it.
As to Cousin Benedict, it had been as impossible to assign him an order
of marching as Dingo. Unless he had been held by a string, he would not
have kept it. His tin box strapped to his shoulder, his net in his
hand, his large magnifying glass suspended to his neck, sometimes
behind, sometimes in front, he scampered away among the high herbs,
watching for orthopters or any other insect in "pter," at the risk of
being bit by some venomous serpent.
During the first hour Mrs. Weldon, uneasy, called him back twenty
times. It was no use.
"Cousin Benedict," she finished by saying to him, "I beg you very
seriously not to go far away, and I urge you for the last time to pay
attention to my entreaties."
"Meanwhile, cousin," replied the intractable entomologist, "when I
perceive an insect?"
"When you perceive an insect," replied Mrs. Weldon, "you would do well
to let it go in peace, or you will put me under the necessity of taking
your box away from you."
"Take away my box!" cried Cousin Benedict, as if it were a question of
snatching away his heart.
"Your box and your net," added Mrs. Weldon, pitilessly.
"My net, cousin! And why not my glasses? You will not dare! No; you
will not dare!"
"Even, your glasses, which I forgot. I thank you, Cousin Benedict, for
reminding me that I have that means of making you blind, and, in that
way, forcing you to be wise."
This triple menace had the effect of making him keep quiet--this
unsubmissive cousin--for about an hour. Then he began to go away again,
and, as he would do the same, even without net, without box, and
without glasses, they were obliged to let him do as he pleased. But
Hercules undertook to watch him closely--which quite naturally became
one of his duties--and it was agreed that he would act with Cousin
Benedict as the latter would with an insect; that is, that he would
catch him, if necessary, and bring him back as delicately as the other
would with the rarest of the lepidopters.
That rule made, they troubled themselves no more about Cousin Benedict.
The little troop, it has been seen, was well armed, and guarded itself
carefully. But, as Harris repeated, there was no encounter to fear
except with wandering Indians, and they would probably see none.
At all events, the precautions taken would suffice to keep them
respectful.
The paths which wound across the thick forest did not merit that name.
They were rather the tracks of animals than the tracks of men. They
could only be followed with difficulty. So, in fixing the average
distance that the little troop would make in a march of twelve hours at
only five or six miles, Harris had calculated wisely.
The weather, however, was very fine. The sun mounted toward the zenith,
spreading in waves his almost perpendicular rays. On the plain this
heat would be unbearable, Harris took care to remark; but, under those
impenetrable branches, they bore it easily and with impunity.
The greater part of the trees of this forest were unknown, as well to
Mrs. Weldon as to her companions, black or white.
However, an expert would remark that they were more remarkable for
their quality than for their height. Here, it was the "banhinia," or
iron wood; there, the "molompi," identical with the "pterocarpe," a
solid and light wood, fit for making the spoons used in sugar
manufactories or oars, from the trunk of which exuded an abundant
resin; further on, "fusticks," or yellow wood, well supplied with
coloring materials, and lignum-vitæs, measuring as much as twelve feet
in diameter, but inferior in quality to the ordinary lignum-vitæs.
While walking, Dick Sand asked Harris the name of these different trees.
"Then you have never been on the coast of South America?" Harris asked
him before replying to his question.
"Never," replied the novice; "never, during my voyages, have I had
occasion to visit these coasts, and to say the truth, I do not believe
that anybody who knew about them has ever spoken to me of them."
"But have you at least explored the coasts of Colombia, those of Chili,
or of Patagonia?"
"No, never."
"But perhaps Mrs. Weldon has visited this part of the new continent?"
asked Harris. "Americans do not fear voyages, and doubtless----"
"No, Mr. Harris," replied Mrs. Weldon. "The commercial interests of my
husband have never called him except to New Zealand, and I have not had
to accompany him elsewhere. Not one of us, then, knows this portion of
lower Bolivia."
"Well, Mrs. Weldon, you and your companions will see a singular
country, which contrasts strangely with the regions of Peru, of Brazil,
or of the Argentine Republic. Its flora and fauna would astonish a
naturalist. Ah! we may say that you have been shipwrecked at a good
place, and if we may ever thank chance----"
"I wish to believe that it is not chance which has led us here, but
God, Mr. Harris."
"God! Yes! God!" replied Harris, in the tone of a man who takes little
account of providential intervention in the things of this world.
Then, since nobody in the little troop knew either the country or its
productions, Harris took a pleasure in naming pleasantly the most
curious trees of the forest.
In truth, it was a pity that, in Cousin Benedict's case, the
entomologist was not supplemented by the botanist! If, up to this time,
he had hardly found insects either rare or new, he might have made fine
discoveries in botany. There was, in profusion, vegetation of all
heights, the existence of which in the tropical forests of the New
World had not been yet ascertained. Cousin Benedict would certainly
have attached his name to some discovery of this kind. But he did not
like botany--he knew nothing about it. He even, quite naturally, held
flowers in aversion, under the pretext that some of them permit
themselves to imprison the insects in their corollas, and poison them
with their venomous juices.
At times, the forest became marshy. They felt under foot quite a
network of liquid threads, which would feed the affluents of the little
river. Some of the rills, somewhat large, could only be crossed by
choosing fordable places.
On their banks grew tufts of reeds, to which Harris gave the name of
papyrus. He was not mistaken, and those herbaceous plants grew
abundantly below the damp banks.
Then, the marsh passed, thickets of trees again covered the narrow
routes of the forest.
Harris made Mrs. Weldon and Dick Sand remark some very fine
ebony-trees, much larger than the common ebony-tree, which furnish a
wood much blacker and much stronger than that of commerce. Then there
were mango-trees, still numerous, though they were rather far from the
sea. A kind of fur of white moss climbed them as far as the branches.
Their thick shade and their delicious fruit made them precious trees,
and meanwhile, according to Harris, not a native would dare to
propagate the species. "Whoever plants a mango-tree dies!" Such is the
superstitious maxim of the country.
During the second half of this first day of the journey, the little
troop, after the midday halt, began to ascend land slightly inclined.
They were not as yet the slopes of the chain of the first plane, but a
sort of undulating plateau which connected the plain with the mountain.
There the trees, a little less compact, sometimes clustered in groups,
would have rendered the march easier, if the soil had not been invaded
by herbaceous plants. One might believe himself in the jungles of
Oriental India. Vegetation appeared to be less luxuriant than in the
lower valley of the little river, but it was still superior to that of
the temperate regions of the Old or of the New World.
Indigo was growing there in profusion, and, according to Harris, this
leguminous plant passed with reason for the most usurping plant of the
country. If a field came to be abandoned, this parasite, as much
despised as the thistle or the nettle, took possession of it
immediately.
One tree seemed lacking in this forest, which ought to be very common
in this part of the new continent; it was the caoutchouc-tree. In fact,
the "ficus primoides," the "castilloa elastica," the "cecropia
peltats," the "collophora utilis," the "cameraria letifolia," and above
all, the "syphonia elastica," which belong to different families,
abound in the provinces of South America. And meanwhile, a rather
singular thing, there was not a single one to be seen.
Now, Dick Sand had particularly promised his friend Jack to show him
some caoutchouc trees. So a great deception for the little boy, who
figured to himself that gourds, speaking babies, articulate
punchinellos, and elastic balloons grew quite naturally on those trees.
He complained.
"Patience, my good little man," replied Harris. "We shall find some of
those caoutchoucs, and by hundreds, in the neighborhood of the farm."
"Handsome ones, very elastic?" asked little Jack.
"The most elastic there are. Hold! while waiting, do you want a good
fruit to take away your thirst?" And, while speaking, Harris went to
gather from a tree some fruits, which seemed to be as pleasant to the
taste as those from the peach-tree.
"Are you very sure, Mr. Harris," asked Mrs. Weldon, "that this fruit
can do no harm?"
"Mrs. Weldon, I am going to convince you," replied the American, who
took a large mouthful of one of those fruits. "It is a mango."
And little Jack, without any more pressing, followed Harris's example,
He declared that it was very good, "those pears," and the tree was at
once put under contribution.
Those mangos belonged to a species whose fruit is ripe in March and
April, others being so only in September, and, consequently, their
mangos were just in time.
"Yes, it is good, good, good!" said little Jack, with his mouth full.
"But my friend Dick has promised me caoutchoucs, if I was very good,
and I want caoutchoucs!"
"You will have them, Jack," replied Mrs. Weldon, "because Mr. Harris
assures you of it."
"But that is not all," went on Jack. "My friend Dick has promised me
some other thing!"
"What then, has friend Dick promised?" asked Harris, smiling.
"Some humming-birds, sir."
"And you shall have some humming-birds, my good little man, but farther
on--farther on," replied Harris.
The fact is that little Jack had a right to claim some of these
charming creatures, for he was now in a country where they should
abound. The Indians, who know how to weave their feathers artistically,
have lavished the most poetical names on those jewels of the flying
race. They call them either the "rays" or the "hairs of the sun." Here,
it is "the little king of the flowers;" there, "the celestial flower
that comes in its flight to caress the terrestrial flower." It is again
"the bouquet of jewels, which sparkles in the fire of the day." It can
be believed that their imagination would know how to furnish a new
poetical appellation for each of the one hundred and fifty species
which constitute this marvelous tribe of humming-birds.
Meanwhile, however numerous these humming-birds might be in the forests
of Bolivia, little Jack was obliged to still content himself with
Harris's promise. According to the American, they were still too close
to the coast, and the humming-birds did not like these deserts so near
the ocean. The presence of man did not frighten them at the "hacienda;"
they heard nothing all day but their cry of "teretere" and the murmur
of their wings, similar to that of a spinning-wheel.
"Ah! how I should like to be there!" cried little Jack.
The surest method of getting there--to the "hacienda" of San
Felice--was not to stop on the road. Mrs. Weldon and her companions
only took the time absolutely necessary for repose.
The aspect of the forest already changed. Between the less crowded
trees large clearings opened here and there. The sun, piercing the
green carpet, then showed its structure of red, syenite granite,
similar to slabs of lapis-lazuli. On some heights the sarsaparilla
abounded, a plant with fleshy tubercles, which formed an inextricable
tangle. The forest, with the narrow paths, was better for them.
Before sunset the little troop were about eight miles from the point of
departure. This journey had been made without accident, and even
without great fatigue. It is true, it was the first journey on the
march, and no doubt the following halting places would be rougher.
By a common consent they decided to make a halt at this place. The
question then was, not to establish a real camp, but to simply organize
a resting-place. One man on guard, relieved every two hours, would
suffice to watch during the night, neither the natives nor the deer
being truly formidable.
They found nothing better for shelter than an enormous mango-tree,
whose large branches, very bushy, formed a kind of natural veranda. If
necessary, they could nestle in the branches.
Only, on the arrival of the little troop, a deafening concert arose
from the top of the tree.
The mango served as a perch for a colony of gray parrots, prattling,
quarrelsome, ferocious birds, which set upon living birds, and those
who would judge them from their congeners which Europe keeps in cages,
would be singularly mistaken.
These parrots jabbered with such a noise that Dick Sand thought of
firing at them to oblige them to be silent, or to put them to flight.
But Harris dissuaded him, under the pretext that in these solitudes it
was better not to disclose his presence by the detonation of a fire-arm.
"Let us pass along without noise," he said, "and we shall pass along
without danger."
Supper was prepared at once, without any need of proceeding to cook
food. It was composed of conserves and biscuit. A little rill, which
wound under the plants, furnished drinkable water, which they did not
drink without improving it with a few drops of rum. As to -dessert-,
the mango was there with its juicy fruit, which the parrots did not
allow to be picked without protesting with their abominable cries.
At the end of the supper it began to be dark. The shade rose slowly
from the ground to the tops of the trees, from which the foliage soon
stood out like a fine tracery on the more luminous background of the
sky. The first stars seemed to be shining flowers, which twinkled at
the end of the last branches. The wind went down with the night, and no
longer trembled in the branches of the trees. The parrots themselves
had become mute. Nature was going to rest, and inviting every living
being to follow her in this deep sleep.
Preparations for retiring had to be of a very primitive character.
"Shall we not light a large fire for the night?" Dick Sand asked the
American.
"What's the good?" replied Harris. "Fortunately the nights are not
cold, and this enormous mango will preserve the soil from all
evaporation. We have neither cold nor dampness to fear. I repeat, my
young friend, what I told you just now. Let us move along incognito. No
more fire than gunshots, if possible."
"I believe, indeed," then said Mrs. Weldon, "that we have nothing to
fear from the Indians--even from those wanderers of the woods, of whom
you have spoken, Mr. Harris. But, are there not other four-footed
wanderers, that the sight of a fire would help to keep at a distance?"
"Mrs. Weldon," replied the American, "you do too much honor to the deer
of this country. Indeed, they fear man more than he fears them."
"We are in a wood," said Jack, "and there is always beasts in the
woods."
"There are woods and woods, my good little man, as there are beasts and
beasts," replied Harris, laughing. "Imagine that you are in the middle
of a large park. Truly, it is not without reason that the Indians say
of this country, 'Es como el pariso!' It is like an earthly paradise!"
"Then there are serpents?" said Jack.
"No, my Jack," replied Mrs. Weldon, "there are no serpents, and you may
sleep tranquilly."
"And lions?" asked Jack.
"Not the ghost of a lion, my good little man," replied Harris.
"Tigers, then?"
"Ask your mama if she has ever heard tell of tigers on this continent."
"Never," replied Mrs. Weldon.
"Good!" said Cousin Benedict, who, by chance, was listening to the
conversation: "if there are neither lions nor tigers in the New World,
which is perfectly true, we at least encounter cougars and jaguars."
"Are they bad?" asked little Jack.
"Phew!" replied Harris; "a native has little fear of attacking those
animals, and we are strong. Stay! Hercules would be strong enough to
crush two jaguars at once, one in each hand!"
"You will watch well, Hercules," then said little Jack, "and if a beast
comes to bite us----"
"It is I who will bite it, Mr. Jack!" replied Hercules, showing his
mouth, armed with superb teeth.
"Yes, you will watch, Hercules," said the novice, "but your companions
and I will relieve you, turn about."
"No, Mr. Dick," replied Acteon, "Hercules, Bat, Austin, and I, we four
will be enough for this labor. You must rest the whole night."
"Thank you, Acteon," replied Dick Sand, "but I ought to----"
"No! let those brave men do it, my dear Dick!" then said Mrs. Weldon.
"I, also; I shall watch!" added little Jack, whose eyelids were already
closing.
"Yes, my Jack, yes, you will watch!" replied his mother, who did not
wish to contradict him.
"But," the little boy said again, "if there are no lions, if there are
no tigers in the forest, there are wolves!"
"Oh! wolves in jest!" replied the American. "They are not even wolves,
but kinds of foxes, or rather of those dogs of the woods which they
call 'guaras.'"
"And those -guaras-, they bite?" asked little Jack.
"Bah! Dingo would make only one mouthful of those beasts!"
"Never mind," replied Jack, with a last yawn; "guaras are wolves,
because they are called wolves!"
And with that Jack fell asleep peaceably in Nan's arms, beside the
trunk of the mango. Mrs. Weldon, lying near her, gave a last kiss to
her little boy, and her tired eyes quickly closed for the night.
A few moments later Hercules brought back to the camp Cousin Benedict,
who had just gone off to commence a chase for pyrophores. They are
"cocuyos," or luminous flies, which the stylish put in their hair, like
so many living gems. These insects which throw a bright and bluish
light from two spots situated at the base of their corselet, are very
numerous in South America. Cousin Benedict then counted on making a
large collection, but Hercules did not leave him time, and, in spite of
his recriminations, the negro brought him to the halting-place. That
was because, when Hercules had orders, he executed them with military
preciseness, which, no doubt, prevented the incarceration of a notable
quantity of luminous flies in the entomologist's tin box.
A few moments after, with the exception of the giant, who was watching,
all were reposing in a profound sleep.
CHAPTER XVII.
A HUNDRED MILES IN TWO DAYS.
Generally, travelers or ramblers in the woods, who have slept in the
forests under the lovely stars, are awakened by howlings as fantastic
as disagreeable. There is everything in this morning concert: clucking,
grunting, croaking, sneering, barking, and almost "speaking," if one
may make use of this word, which completes the series of different
noises.
There are the monkeys who thus salute the daybreak. There we meet the
little "marikina," the marmoset with a speckled mask; the "mono gris,"
the skin of which the Indians use to recover the batteries of their
guns; the "sagous," recognizable from their long bunches of hair, and
many others, specimens of this numerous family.
Of these various four-handed animals, the most remarkable are decidedly
the "gueribas," with curling tails and a face like Beelzebub. When the
sun rises, the oldest of the band, with an imposing and mysterious
voice, sings a monotonous psalm. It is the baritone of the troop. The
young tenors repeat after him the morning symphony. The Indians say
then that the "gueribas" recite their -pater-nosters-.
But, on this day, it seemed that the monkeys did not offer their
prayer, for no one heard them; and, meanwhile, their voice is loud, for
it is produced by the rapid vibration of a kind of bony drum, formed by
a swelling of the hyoides bone in the neck.
In short, for one reason or for another, neither the "gueribas," nor
the "sagous," nor any other four-handed animals of this immense forest,
sang, on this morning, their usual concert.
This would not have satisfied the wandering Indians. Not that these
natives appreciate this kind of strange choral music, but they
willingly give chase to the monkeys, and if they do, it is because the
flesh of this animal is excellent, above all, when it is smoke-dried.
Dick Sand, of course, could not be familiar with the habits of the
"gueribas," neither were his companions, or this not hearing them would
have undoubtedly been a subject of surprise. They awoke then, one after
the other, much refreshed by these few hours of repose, which no alarm
had come to disturb.
Little Jack was not the last to stretch his arms. His first question
was, to ask if Hercules had eaten a wolf during the night. No wolf had
shown himself, and consequently Hercules had not yet breakfasted.
All, besides, were fasting like him, and after the morning prayer, Nan
occupied herself preparing the repast.
The bill of fare was that of the supper of the night before, but with
appetites sharpened by the morning air of the forest, no one dreamed of
being difficult to please. It was necessary, above all, to gather
strength for a good day's march, and they did it. For the first time,
perhaps, Cousin Benedict comprehended that to eat was not an action
indifferent or useless to life; only, he declared that he had not come
to "visit" this country to walk with his hands in his pockets, and
that, if Hercules prevented him from chasing the "cocuyos," and other
luminous flies, Hercules would have some trouble with him.
This threat did not seem to frighten the giant to any great extent.
However, Mrs. Weldon took him aside and told him that, perhaps, he
might allow his big baby to run to the right and left, but on condition
that he did not lose sight of him. It would not do to completely sever
Cousin Benedict from the pleasures so natural to his age.
At seven o'clock in the morning, the little troop took up their journey
toward the east, preserving the order of march that had been adopted
the previous day. It was always the forest. On this virgin soil, where
the heat and the moisture agreed to produce vegetation, it might well
be thought that the reign of growth appeared in all its power. The
parallel of this vast plateau was almost confounded with tropical
latitudes, and, during certain months in summer, the sun, in passing to
the zenith, darted its perpendicular rays there. There was, therefore,
an enormous quantity of imprisoned heat in this earth, of which the
subsoil preserved the damp. Also, nothing could be more magnificent
than this succession of forests, or rather this interminable forest.
Meanwhile, Dick Sand had not failed to observe this--that, according to
Harris, they were in the region of the pampas. Now, pampas is a word
from the "quichna" language, which signifies a plain. Now, if his
recollections did not deceive him, he believed that these plains
presented the following characteristics: Lack of water, absence of
trees, a failure of stones, an almost luxuriant abundance of thistles
during the rainy season, thistles which became almost shrubby with the
warm season, and then formed impenetrable thickets; then, also, dwarf
trees, thorny shrubs, the whole giving to these plains a rather arid
and desolate aspect.
Now, it had not been thus, since the little troop, guided by the
American, had left the coast. The forest had not ceased to spread to
the limits of the horizon. No, this was not the pampas, such as the
young novice had imagined them. Had nature, as Harris had told him,
been able to make a region apart from the plateau of Atacama, of which
he knew nothing, if it did not form one of the most vast deserts of
South America, between the Andes and the Pacific Ocean?
On that day Dick Sand propounded some questions on this subject, and
expressed to the American the surprise he felt at this singular
appearance of the pampas.
But he was quickly undeceived by Harris, who gave him the most exact
details about this part of Bolivia, thus witnessing to his great
knowledge of the country.
"You are right, my young friend," he said to the novice. "The true
pampa is indeed such as the books of travels have depicted it to you,
that is, a plain rather arid, and the crossing of which is often
difficult. It recalls our savannahs of North America--except that these
are a little marshy. Yes, such is indeed the pampa of the Rio Colorado,
such are the "llanos" of the Orinoco and of Venezuela. But here, we are
in a country, the appearance of which even astonishes me. It is true,
it is the first time I have followed this route across the plateau, a
route which has the advantage of shortening our journey. But, if I have
not yet seen it, I know that it presents an extraordinary contrast to
the veritable pampa. As to this one, you would find it again, not
between the Cordilleras of the west and the high chain of the Andes,
but beyond the mountains, over all that eastern part of the continent
which extends as far as the Atlantic."
"Must we then clear the Andes range?" Dick Sand asked, quickly.
"No, my young friend, no," replied the American, smiling. "So I said:
You -would- find it again, and not: You -will- find it again. Be
reassured, we shall not leave this plateau, the greatest elevations of
which do not exceed fifteen hundred feet. Ah! if it had been necessary
to cross the Cordilleras with only the means of transport at our
disposal, I should never have drawn you into such an undertaking."
"In fact," replied Dick Sand, "it would be better to ascend or descend
the coast."
"Oh! a hundred times!" replied Harris. "But the Farm of San Felice is
situated on this side of the Cordilleras. So, then, our journey,
neither in its first nor in its second part, will offer any real
difficulty."
"And you do not fear going astray in these forests, which you cross for
the first time?" asked Dick Sand.
"No, my young friend, no," replied Harris. "I know indeed that this
forest is like an immense sea, or rather like the bottom of a sea,
where a sailor himself could not take the latitude nor recognize his
position. But accustomed to traveling in the woods, I know how to find
my route only by the inclination of certain trees, by the direction of
their leaves, by the movement or the composition of the soil, by a
thousand details which escape you! Be sure of it, I will lead you, you
and yours, where you ought to go!"
All these things were said very clearly by Harris. Dick Sand and he, at
the head of the troop, often talked without any one mingling in their
conversation. If the novice felt some doubts that the American did not
always succeed in scattering, he preferred to keep them to himself.
The 8th, 9th, 10th, 11th, and 12th of April passed in this manner,
without any incident to mark the journey. They did not make more than
eight to nine miles in twelve hours. The times consecrated to eating or
repose came at regular intervals, and though a little fatigue was felt
already, the sanitary condition was still very satisfactory.
Little Jack began to suffer a little from this life in the woods, to
which he was not accustomed, and which was becoming very monotonous for
him. And then all the promises which had been made him had not been
kept. The caoutchouc jumping-jacks, the humming-birds, all those seemed
constantly to recede. There had also been a question of showing him the
most beautiful parrots in the world, and they ought not to be wanting
in these rich forests. Where, then, were the popinjays with green
plumage, almost all originally from these countries, the -aras-, with
naked cheeks, with long pointed tails, with glittering colors, whose
paws never rest on the earth, and the "camindes," which are more
peculiar to tropical countries, and the many-colored she-parrots, with
feathered faces, and finally all those prattling birds which, according
to the Indians, still speak the language of extinct tribes?
Of parrots, little Jack only saw ash-gray jakos, with red tails, which
abounded under the trees. But these jakos were not new to him. They
have transported them into all parts of the world. On the two
continents they fill the houses with their insupportable chattering,
and, of all the family of the "psittacius," they are the ones which
learn to speak most easily.
It must be said, besides, that if Jack was not contented, Cousin
Benedict was no more so. He had been allowed to wander a little to the
right or to the left during the march. However, he had not found any
insect which was fit to enrich his collection. Even the "pyrophores"
obstinately refused to show themselves to him, and attract him by the
phosphorescences of their corselet. Nature seemed truly to mock the
unhappy entomologist, whose temper was becoming cross.
For four days more the march toward the northeast was continued in the
same way. On the 16th of April the distance traversed from the coast
could not be estimated at less than one hundred miles. If Harris had
not gone astray--and he affirmed it without hesitation--the Farm of San
Felice was no more than twenty miles from the halting place of that
day. Before forty-eight hours the little troop then would have a
comfortable shelter where its members could at last repose from their
fatigues.
Meanwhile, though the plateau had been almost entirely crossed in its
middle part, not a native, not a wanderer had been encountered under
the immense forest.
More than once, without saying anything about it, Dick Sand regretted
being unable to go ashore on some other point of the coast. More to the
south, or more to the north, villages, hamlets, or plantations would
not have been lacking, and long before this Mrs. Weldon and her
companions would have found an asylum.
But, if the country seemed to be abandoned by man, animals showed
themselves more frequently during these last days. At times was heard a
kind of long, plaintive cry, that Harris attributed to some of those
large tardi-grades, habitual denizens of those vast wooded regions,
named "ais."
On that day, also, during the midday halt, a hissing passed through the
air, which made Mrs. Weldon very uneasy, because it was so strange.
"What is that?"' she asked, rising hastily.
"A serpent!" cried Dick Sand, who gun, in hand, threw himself before
Mrs. Weldon.
They might fear, in fact, that some reptile would glide among the
plants to the halting place. It would be nothing astonishing if it were
one of those enormous "sucurus," kinds of boas, which sometimes measure
forty feet in length.
But Harris reminded Dick Sand that the blacks were already following,
and he reassured Mrs. Weldon.
According to him, that hissing could not be produced by a "sucuru,"
because that serpent does not hiss; but he indicated the presence of
several inoffensive quadrupeds, rather numerous in that country.
"Be reassured, then," said he, "and make no movement which may frighten
those animals."
"But what are they?" asked Dick Sand, who made it like a law of
conscience to interrogate and make the American speak--who, however,
never required pressing before replying.
"They are antelopes, my young friend," replied Harris.
"Oh! how I should like to see them!" cried Jack.
"That is very difficult, my good little man," replied the American,
"very difficult."
"Perhaps we may try to approach than--those hissing antelopes?"
returned Dick Sand.
"Oh! you will not take three steps," replied the American, shaking his
head, "before the whole band will take flight. I beg of you, then, not
to trouble yourself."
But Dick Sand had his reasons for being curious. He wished to see, and,
gun in hand, he glided among the herbs. Immediately a dozen graceful
gazelles, with small, sharp horns, passed with the rapidity of a
water-spout. Their hair, bright red, looked like a cloud of fire under
the tall underwood of the forest.
"I had warned you," said Harris, when the novice returned to take his
place.
Those antelopes were so light of foot, that it had been truly
impossible to distinguish them; but it was not so with another troop of
animals which was signaled the same day. Those could be
seen--imperfectly, it is true--but their apparition led to a rather
singular discussion between Harris and some of his companions.
The little troop, about four o'clock in the afternoon, had stopped for
a moment near an opening in the woods, when three or four animals of
great height went out of a thicket a hundred steps off, and scampered
away at once with remarkable speed.
In spite of the American's recommendations, this time the novice,
having quickly shouldered his gun, fired at one of these animals. But
at the moment when the charge was going off, the weapon had been
rapidly turned aside by Harris, and Dick Sand, skilful as he was, had
missed his aim.
"No firing; no firing!" said the American.
"Ah, now, but those are giraffes!" cried Dick Sand, without otherwise
replying to Harris's observation.
"Giraffes!" repeated Jack, standing up on the horse's saddle. "Where
are they, the large beasts?"
"Giraffes!" replied Mrs. Weldon. "You are mistaken, my dear Dick. There
are no giraffes in America."
"Indeed," said Harris, who appeared rather surprised, "there cannot be
any giraffes in this country."
"What, then?" said Dick Sand.
"I really do not know what to think," replied Harris. "Have not your
eyes deceived you, my young friend, and are not those animals more
likely to be ostriches?"
"Ostriches!" repeated Dick Sand and Mrs. Weldon, looking at each other
in great surprise.
"Yes, only ostriches," repeated Harris.
"But ostriches are birds," returned Dick Sand, "and consequently they
have only two feet."
"Well," replied Harris, "I indeed thought I saw that those animals,
which have just made off so rapidly, were bipeds."
"Bipeds!" replied the novice.
"Indeed it seemed to me that I saw animals with four legs," then said
Mrs. Weldon.
"I also," added old Tom; then Bat, Acteon, and Austin confirmed those
words.
"Ostriches with four legs!" cried Harris, with a burst of laughter.
"That would be ridiculous!"
"So," returned Dick Sand, "we have believed they were giraffes, and not
ostriches."
"No, my young friend, no," said Harris. "You have certainly seen badly.
That is explained by the rapidity with which those animals have flown
away. Besides, it has happened more than once that hunters have been
deceived like you, and in the best faith in the world."
What the American said was very plausible. Between an ostrich of great
height and a giraffe of medium height, seen at a certain distance, it
is easy to make a mistake. If it were a question of a beak or a nose,
both are none the less joined to the end of a long neck turned
backward, and, strictly speaking, it may be said that an ostrich is
only a half giraffe. It only needs the hind legs. Then, this biped and
this quadruped, passing rapidly, on a sudden may, very properly, be
taken one for the other.
Besides, the best proof that Mrs. Weldon and the others were mistaken
was that there are no giraffes in America.
Dick Sand then made this reflection:
"But I believed that ostriches were not met with in the New World any
more than giraffes."
"Yes, my young friend," replied Harris; "and, indeed, South America
possesses a peculiar species. To this species belongs the 'nandon,'
which you have just seen."
Harris spoke the truth. The "nandon" is a long-legged bird, rather
common in the plains of South America, and its flesh, when it is young,
is good to eat.
This strong animal, whose height sometimes exceeds two meters, has a
straight beak; wings long, and formed of tufted feathers of a bluish
shade; feet formed of three claws, furnished with nails--which
essentially distinguishes it from the ostriches of Africa.
These very exact details were given by Harris, who appeared to be very
strongly posted on the manners of the "nandons."
Mrs. Weldon and her companions were obliged to acknowledge that they
had been deceived.
"Besides," added Harris, "possibly we may encounter another band of
these ostriches. Well, next time look better, and no longer allow
yourselves to takes birds for quadrupeds! But above all, my young
friend, do not forget my recommendations, and do not fire on any animal
whatsoever. We have no need of hunting to procure food, and no
detonation of a fire-arm must announce our presence in this forest."
Meanwhile Dick Sand remained pensive. Once more a doubt had just arisen
on his mind.
The next day, April 17th, the march was continued, and the American
affirmed that twenty-four hours would not pass before the little troop
should be installed at the Farm of San Felice.
"There, Mrs. Weldon," added he, "you will receive all the care
necessary to your position, and a few days' rest will quite restore
you. Perhaps you will not find at this farm the luxury to which you are
accustomed in your residence in San Francisco, but you will see that
our improved lands in the interior do not lack what is comfortable. We
are not absolutely savages."
"Mr. Harris," replied Mrs. Weldon, "if we have only thanks to offer you
for your generous resort, at least we shall offer them to you with all
our hearts. Yes! It is time for us to arrive there!"
"You are very much fatigued, Mrs. Weldon?"
"I, no matter!" replied Mrs. Weldon; "but I perceive that my little
Jack is gradually becoming exhausted! The fever begins to affect him at
certain hours!"
"Yes," replied Harris, "and although the climate of this plateau is
very healthful, it must be acknowledged that in March and April
intermittent fevers reign."
"Doubtless," then said Dick Sand, "but also Nature, who is always and
everywhere provident, has put the remedy near the evil!"
"And how is that, my young friend?" asked Harris, who did not seem to
understand.
"Are we not, then, in the region of the quinquinas?" replied Dick Sand.
"In fact," said Harris, "you are perfectly right. The trees which
furnish, the precious febrifuge bark are native here."
"I am even astonished," added Dick Sand, "that we have not yet seen a
single one."
"Ah! my young friend," replied Harris, "those trees are not easy to
distinguish. Though they are often of great height, though their leaves
are large, their flowers rosy and odoriferous, we do not discover them
easily. It is rarely that they grow in groups. They are rather
scattered through the forests, and the Indians who collect the
quinquina can only recognize them by their foliage, always green."
"Mr. Harris," said Mrs. Weldon, "if you see one of those trees you will
show it to me."
"Certainly, Mrs. Weldon, but at the farm you will find some sulphate of
quinine. That is worth still more to break the fever than the simple
bark of the tree."
Formerly, this bark was only reduced to powder, which bore the name of
"Jesuits' Powder," because, in 1649, the Jesuits of Rome received a
considerable quantity from their mission in America.
This last day of the journey passed without other incident. Evening
came and the halt was organized for the whole night as usual. Till then
it had not rained, but the weather was preparing to change, for a warm
mist rose from the soil and soon found a thick fog.
They were touching, in fact, on the rainy season. Fortunately, the next
day, a comfortable shelter would be hospitably offered to the little
troop. There were only a few hours to elapse.
Though, according to Harris, who could only establish his calculation
by the time which the journey had lasted, they could not be more than
six miles from the farm, the ordinary precautions were taken for the
night. Tom and his companions would watch one after the other. Dick
Sand insisted that nothing should be neglected in that respect. Less
than ever, would he depart from his habitual prudence, for a terrible
suspicion was incrusted in his mind; but he did not wish to say
anything yet.
The retiring to rest had been made at the feet of a group of large
trees. Fatigue aiding, Mrs. Weldon and hers were already asleep, when
they were awakened by a great cry.
"Eh! what's the matter?" asked Dick Sand, quickly, who was on his feet
first of all.
"It is I! it is I who have cried!" replied Cousin Benedict.
"And what is the matter with you?" asked Mrs. Weldon.
"I have just been bit!"
"By a serpent?" asked Mrs. Weldon, with alarm.
"No, no! It was not a serpent, but an insect," replied Cousin Benedict.
"Ah! I have it! I have it!"
"Well, crush your insect," said Harris, "and let us sleep, Mr.
Benedict!"
"Crush an insect!" cried Cousin Benedict. "Not so! I must see what it
is!"
"Some mosquito!" said Harris, shrugging his shoulders.
"No! It is a fly," replied Cousin Benedict, "and a fly which ought to
be very curious!"
Dick Sand had lit a little portable lantern, and he approached Cousin
Benedict.
"Divine goodness!" cried the latter. "Behold what consoles me for all
my deceptions! I have, then, at last made a discovery!"
The honest man was raving. He looked at his fly in triumph. He would
willingly kiss it.
"But what is it, then?" asked Mrs. Weldon.
"A dipter, cousin, a famous dipter!" And Cousin Benedict showed a fly
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465
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;
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"
904
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907
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916
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.
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.
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962
963
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966
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969
970
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!
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971
972
"
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973
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.
975
"
!
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976
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"
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,
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"
979
980
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!
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.
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981
!
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982
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!
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.
984
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!
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986
!
"
987
988
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.
990
991
"
!
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.
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992
!
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!
"
993
994
.
.
995
.
996
997
"
,
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"
.
.
998
999
"
,
,
!
"
1000