CHAPTER SEVEN.
THINGS BEGIN TO LOOK BRIGHTER--THE GUIDE'S STORY.
It was bright day when our travellers awoke, but only a dim lightpenetrated into their dungeon-like dormitory, for, besides being verysmall, the three windows, or loop-holes, had been so filled up with snowas to shut out much of the light that would naturally have entered.
That the gale still raged outside was evident enough to the sense ofhearing, and sometimes the gusts were so sudden and strong that thelittle building trembled, stout though it was. Indeed, Lawrence atfirst thought they must be experiencing the shocks of an earthquake, amistake not unnatural in one who, besides having had but littleexperience in regard to such catastrophes, knew well that he was at thetime almost in the centre of a region celebrated for earthquakes.
It was with mingled feelings of interest, anxiety, and solemnity that hesurveyed the scene outside through a hole in the door. It seemed as ifan Arctic winter had suddenly descended on them. Snow completelycovered hill and gorge as far as the vision could range but they couldnot see far, for at every fresh burst of the furious wind the restlesswreaths were gathered up and whirled madly to the sky, or swept wildlydown the valleys, or dashed with fury against black precipices andbeetling cliffs, to which they would sometimes cling for a few seconds,then, falling away, would be caught up again by the tormenting gale, anddriven along in some new direction with intensified violence.
"No prospect of quitting the hut to-day," observed Lawrence, turningaway from the bewildering scene.
"None," said Pedro, stretching himself, and rising sleepily on oneelbow, as men are wont to do when unwilling to get up.
"Nebber mind, massa; lots o' grub!" cried Quashy, awaking at thatmoment, leaping up like an acrobat, and instantly setting about thekindling of the fire.
Having, as Quashy truly said, lots of grub, possessing a superabundanceof animal vigour, and being gifted with untried as well as unknowndepths of intellectual power, also with inexhaustible stores of youthfulhope, our travellers had no difficulty in passing that day inconsiderable enjoyment, despite adverse circumstances; but when theyawoke on the second morning and found the gale still howling, and thesnow still madly whirling, all except Pedro began to express in word andcountenance feelings of despondency. Manuela did not speak much, it istrue, but she naturally looked somewhat anxious. Lawrence began torecall the fate of previous travellers in that very hut, and hiscountenance became unusually grave, whereupon Quashy--whose nature itwas to conform to the lead of those whom he loved, and, in conforming,outrageously to overdo his part--looked in his young master's face andassumed such an aspect of woeful depression that his visage becamedistinctly oval, though naturally round.
Observing this, Lawrence could not restrain a short laugh, whereupon,true as the compass to the Pole, the facile Quashy went right round; hischin came up, his cheeks went out, his eyes opened with hopeful sheen,and his thick lips expanded into a placid grin.
"There is no cause for alarm," observed Pedro, who had risen to assistin preparing breakfast. "No doubt it is the worst storm I ever metwith, or even heard of, at this season of the year, but it cannot lastmuch longer; and whatever happens, it can't run into winter just now."
As if to justify the guide's words, the hurricane began to diminish inviolence, and the pauses between blasts were more frequent andprolonged. When breakfast was over, appearances became much morehopeful, and before noon the storm had ceased to rage.
Taking advantage of the change, without delay they loaded thepack-mules, saddled, mounted, and set forth.
To many travellers it would have been death to have ventured out on sucha trackless waste, but Pedro knew the road and the landmarks sothoroughly that he advanced with his wonted confidence. At first thesnow was very deep, and, despite their utmost care, they once or twicestrayed from the road, and were not far from destruction. As theydescended, however, the intense cold abated; and when they came out uponoccasional table-lands, they found that the snow-fall there had beenmuch less than in the higher regions, also that it had drifted off theroad so much that travelling became more easy.
That night they came to a second hut-of-refuge, and next day haddescended into a distinctly warmer region on the eastern slopes of thegreat range, over which they travelled from day to day with everincreasing comfort. Sometimes they put up at outlying mountain farms,and were always hospitably received; sometimes at small hamlets orvillages, where they could exchange or purchase mules, and, notunfrequently, they encamped on the wild mountain slopes, with the greentrees or an overhanging cliff, or the open sky to curtain them, and thevoices of the puma and the jaguar for their lullaby.
Strange to say, in crossing the higher parts of the Andes not one of theparty suffered from the rarity of the air. Many travellers experiencesickness, giddiness, and extreme exhaustion from this cause in thoseregions. Some have even died of the effects experienced at the greaterheights, yet neither Manuela, nor Lawrence, nor Quashy was affected inthe slightest degree. We can assign no reason for their exemption--canonly state the fact. As for the guide, he was in this matter--as,indeed, he seemed to be in everything--invulnerable.
One afternoon, as they rode along a mountain track enjoying thesunshine, which at that hour was not too warm, Lawrence pushed upalongside of the guide.
"It seems to me," he said, "that we are wandering wonderfully far out ofour way just now. We have been going due north for several days; atleast so my pocket compass tells me, and if my geography is not greatlyat fault, our backs instead of our faces are turned at present towardsBuenos Ayres. I do not wish to pry into your secrets, Senhor Pedro, butif it is not presuming too much I should like to know when we shallbegin to move in the direction of our journey's end."
"There is neither presumption nor impropriety in your wish," returnedthe guide. "I told you at starting that we should pursue a deviousroute, for reasons which are immaterial to you, but there is no reasonwhy I should not explain that at present I am diverging for only a fewmiles from our track to visit a locality--a cottage--which is sacred tome. After that we will turn eastward until we reach the head-waters ofstreams that will conduct us towards our journey's end."
With this explanation he was obliged to rest content, for Pedro spokelike one who did not care to be questioned. Indeed there was anunusually absent air about him, seeing which Lawrence drew rein and fellback until he found himself alongside of Quashy.
Always ready--nay, eager--for sympathetic discourse, the negro receivedhis young master with a bland, expansive, we might almost say effusive,smile.
"Well, massa, how's you gittin' along now?"
"Pretty well, Quashy. How do you?"
"Oh! fuss-rate, massa--only consid'rable obercome wid surprise."
"What surprises you?"
"De way we's agwine, to be sure. Look dar." He pointed towards thetowering mountain peaks and wild precipices that closed in the narrowglen or gorge up which they were slowly proceeding.
"In all our trabels we's nebber come to a place like dat. It looks likede fag end ob creation. You couldn't git ober de mountain-tops 'ceptyou had wings, an' you couldn't climb ober de pres'pisses 'cep you was amonkey or a skirl--though it _am_ bery lubly, no doubt."
The negro's comments were strictly correct, though somewhat uncouthlyexpressed. The valley was apparently surrounded in all directions byinaccessible precipices, and the white peaks of the Andes towered intothe skies at its head. Within rugged setting lay a fine stretch ofundulating land, diversified by crag and hillock, lake and rivulet, withclustering shrubs and trees clinging to the cliffs, and clothing themountain slopes in rich, and, in many places, soft luxuriance. It wasone of those scenes of grandeur and loveliness in profound solitudewhich tend to raise in the thoughtful mind the perplexing but notirreverent question, "Why did the good and bountiful Creator form suchplaces of surpassing beauty to remain for thousands of years almost, ifnot quite, unknown to man?"
For, as far as could be seen, no h
uman habitation graced themountain-sides, no sign of cultivation appeared in the valley, thoughmyriads of the lower animals sported on and in the waters, among thetrees and on the ground.
Perchance man over-estimates his own importance--at least underratesthat of the animal kingdom below him--and is too apt to deem everythingin nature wasted that cannot be directly or indirectly connected withhimself! Is all that glows in beauty in the wilderness doomed to "blushunseen"? Is all the sweetness expended on the desert air "wasted?"
As the guide rode slowly forward, he glanced from side to side withthoughtful yet mournful looks, as if his mind were engaged in meditatingon some such insoluble problems. As he neared the head of the valley,however, he seemed to awake from a trance, suddenly put spurs to hismule, and went off at a canter. The rest of the party followed at somedistance behind, but at so slow a pace, compared with that of the guide,that the latter was soon lost to sight among the trees.
Somewhat surprised at his unusual state of mind Lawrence pushed on andsoon reached an open glade which showed some signs of having beencultivated. At the end of it stood a pretty little cottage, in front ofwhich Pedro was standing motionless, with clasped hands and droopinghead.
Lawrence hesitated to disturb him, but as Quashy had no suchhesitations, and rode smartly forward, his companions followed.
Pedro turned with a grave look as they came up, and said--
"My home. I bid you welcome."
"Your home!" echoed Lawrence, in surprise.
"Ay, a happy home it once was--but--desolate enough now. Come, we willsleep here to-night. Unload the mules, Quashy, and kindle a fire. Gointo the room on the right, Manuela. You will find a couch and othercivilised comforts there. Senhor Armstrong, will you come with me?"
Without even awaiting a reply, the guide walked smartly into the bushesin rear of his lonely dwelling, followed by our hero. In a few minutesthey reached a mound or hillock, which had been cleared of trees andunderwood, and from the summit of which one could see over the tree-topsand the cottage roof away down the valley to the horizon of thetable-lands beyond. It was a lovely spot, and, as Lawrence saw it thatquiet sunny afternoon, was suggestive only of peace and happiness.
There was a rustic bower on the mound, in which a roughly-constructedseat was fixed firmly to the ground. In front of the bower was a gravewith a headstone, on which was carved the single word "Mariquita."
Lawrence looked at his companion, but refrained from speech on observingthat he seemed to be struggling with strong emotion. In a few secondsPedro, having mastered his feelings, turned and said, in a tone thatbetrayed nothing save profound sadness--
"The body of my wife lies there. Her pure spirit, thank God, is withits Maker."
Lawrence's power of sympathy was so great that he hesitated to reply,fearing to hurt the feelings of one for whom, by that time, he had cometo entertain sincere regard. He was about to speak, when Pedro raisedhis head gently, as if to check him.
"Sit beside me, senhor," he said, seating himself on the rustic seatalready referred to. "You have from our first meeting given me yourconfidence so frankly and freely that the least I can do is to give youmine in return--as far, at least, as that is possible. You are thefirst human being I have invited to sit _there_ since Mariquita left me.Shall I tell you something of my history, Senhor Armstrong?"
Of course Lawrence assented, with a look of deep interest.
"Well, then," said Pedro, "it may perhaps surprise you to learn that Iam an Irishman."
To this Lawrence replied, with a slight smile, that he was not verygreatly surprised, seeing that the perplexing character of that race wassuch as to justify him in expecting almost anything of them.
"I'm not sure whether to take that remark as complimentary orotherwise," returned Pedro; "however, the fighting tendency with whichmy countrymen are credited has departed from me. I won't quarrel withyou on the point. At the age of sixteen I was sent to America to seekmy fortune. My mother I never knew. She died when I was a child. Myfather died the year after I left home. How I came to drift here itwould be difficult, as well as tedious, to explain. Many of the menwith whom I have chummed in years gone by would have said that it waschance which led me to South America. I never could agree with them onthis point. The word `chance' fitly describes the conditions sometimesexisting between man and man, and is used in Scripture in the parable ofthe Good Samaritan, but there can be no such thing as chance with theAlmighty. I must have been led or guided here.
"At all events, hither I came, and wandered about for some years, withthat aimless indifference to the future which is but too characteristicof youth--content to eat and sleep and toil, so that I might enjoy life,and get plenty of excitement! I went to Peru first, and of course Ijoined in the fights that were so frequently stirred up between thatcountry and its neighbour, Chili. A very little of that, however,sufficed. The brutal ferocity of the soldiery with whom I was mixed up,and their fearful disregard of age, sex, infirmity, or helplesschildhood during war disgusted me so much that I finally cut the army,and took to hunting and doing a little trade between the countries lyingon the east and west sides of the Andes. It was while thus engaged thatI became acquainted with your good father, Senhor Armstrong, who hasmore than once helped me over financial difficulties and set me on mylegs.
"At last came the grand crisis of my life. One evening when travellingover the pampas of La Plata, I, with a dozen Gauchos, arrived at apost-house where we meant to put up for the night. On coming in sightof it we saw that something was wrong, for there were a number ofIndians fighting about the door. On seeing us they made off; but one,who was in the house struggling with the postmaster, did not observe theflight of his comrades, or could not get clear of his enemy. We allwent madly after the savages. As I was about to pass the door of thehouse, I heard a woman shriek. The Gauchos paid no attention, butpassed on. I glanced inside, and saw the Indian in the act of cutting aman's throat, while a girl strove wildly to prevent him. You may besure I was inside in a moment, and I brained the savage with the butt ofa pistol. But it was too late. The knife had already done its work,and the poor man only lived long enough to bless his daughter, who,covered with her father's blood, sank fainting on the floor. It was myfirst meeting with Mariquita!
"Around her," continued Pedro, in deepening tones, "lay her mother andtwo brothers--all slaughtered. I will not describe the harrowing scene.I tried to comfort the poor girl, and we took her on with us to thenext post, where the postmaster's wife attended to her.
"On seeing her next morning I felt that my life's happiness or sorrowlay in her hands. She was innocence, simplicity, beauty, combined.With artless gratitude she grasped and kissed my hand, regarding me, shesaid, as her deliverer, and one who would have saved her father if hehad been in time.
"Often before had my comrades twitted me with my indifference to thefemale sex. To say truth, I had myself become impressed with thefeeling that I was born to be one of the old bachelors of the world--andI cannot say that the doom gave me much concern. But now--well, if youunderstand me, senhor, I need not explain, and if you don't understand,explanation is useless! Mariquita was left alone in the wide world. Iwould not, for all the gold and silver of Peru, have spoken of love toher at that time; but I made arrangements with the postmaster and hiswife to take care of the poor girl till I should return. In time I didreturn. She accepted me. We were married, and I brought her up here,for I wanted no society but hers. I was content to live in absolutesolitude with her. She was much of the same mind, dear girl, but Godhad touched her heart, and in her sweet talk--without intending it, ordreaming of it--she showed me how selfish I was in thinking only of ourown happiness, and caring nothing for the woes or the joys of ourfellow-men.
"My conscience reproached me, and I began to think how I could manage tolive a less selfish life, but before I could make up my mind what courseto follow an event occurred which caused delay. A little girl was sentto us. I calle
d her Mariquita, of course, and thought no more ofleaving our happy home in the mountains. For five years we remainedhere, and the little Mariquita grew to be an angel of light and beauty--like her mother in all respects, except that she was very fair, withcurly golden hair.
"About that time war broke out--doubly accursed war! One night a bandof deserters came and attacked my cottage. It had always been wellprepared for anything of the sort with bolts, and bars and shutters, andeven flanking loop-holes, as well as plenty of fire-arms and ammunition.But the party was too numerous. The villains forced the door in spiteof me, and fired a volley before making a rush. From that moment Iremembered nothing more until I recovered and found my head supported onthe knee of an old man. I knew him at once to be a poor lonely oldhunter who ranged about in the mountains here, and had paid usoccasional visits. When he saw I was able to understand him, he told methat he had come suddenly on the villains and shot two of them, and thatthe others, perhaps thinking him the advance-guard of a larger party,had taken fright and made off. `But,' he said, in a low, hesitatingtone, `Mariquita is dead!'
"I sprang up as if I had been shot, but instantly fell again, for my leghad been broken. I had seen enough, however. My beloved one lay deadon the floor, not far from me, with a bullet through her brain. Andnow," added Pedro, pointing in deep despondency to the little mound attheir feet--"she lies there!"
"Not so, my friend," said Lawrence, in a low but earnest tone, as hegrasped the man's hand, "it is only her dust that lies there, and even_that_ is precious in the sight of her Lord."
"Thank you, senhor, for reminding me," returned Pedro; "but when thememory of that awful night is strong upon me, my faith almost fails."
"No wonder," rejoined Lawrence, "but what of the child?"
"Ah! that is what I asked the old hunter," returned Pedro. "He startedup, and searched high and low, but could not find her. Then he wentout, calling her by name loudly, and searched the bushes. Then hereturned with a wild look and said the robbers must have taken heraway--he would pursue! I knew it would be useless, for the scoundrelswere mounted and the old hunter was on foot; but I let him go, and wasnot surprised when, two hours later, he returned quite exhausted. `Itis in vain,' he said. `Yet if I could have come up with them, I wouldhave died for her.'
"I was long ill after that. A good while, they say, I was out of mymind, but old Ignacio nursed me through. He also buried Mariquita whereshe now lies."
The guide paused.
"And the child?" asked Lawrence, anxiously.
"I have sought her far and wide, year after year, over mountain andplain. She may be dead--she may be alive--but I have never seen her norheard of her from that day to this."
"Your story is a very, very sad one," said Lawrence, his face expressingthe genuine sympathy which he felt. "May I ask--are your wanderingsmere haphazard? Have you no idea who they were that stole your littleone, or where they went to?"
"None whatever. The broken leg, you know, prevented my commencing thesearch at once, and when I was able to go about I found that all traceof the band was gone. No wonder, for the country was at war at thetime, and many marauding parties had traversed the land since then."
"I--I shrink," said Lawrence, with some hesitation, "from even theappearance of unkindness, but I cannot help expressing the fear thatthis vague, undirected wandering will be useless."
"It would be so," returned Pedro, "if God did not direct all humanaffairs. If it be His will, I shall yet find my child on earth. Ifnot, I shall find her above--with her mother. In our intercourse,senhor, I have observed in you a respect for God's Word. Is it notwritten, `Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in Him, and He willbring it to pass?'"
"Most true," replied Lawrence, feeling the reproof, "yet God works bymeans. If we do not take the right means, we cannot expect to attainour end, however much we may trust."
"Right, senhor, and I have taken the _only_ means open to me. Since Icannot give direction to my search, I search _everywhere_. Fortunatelymy business permits of this, and also of doing a little service to myfellow-men as I go on my way. Periodically I return here to rest,"--(hepointed to the little mound,)--"and when my powers begin to wane, eitherthrough disease or age, it is my purpose, if God permit, to return anddie beside Mariquita's grave."