CHAPTER XIV.
THE DESERTED MISSION.
That night all went to rest with hope in their hearts, though still notwithout some anxiety.
If you reflect upon the situation in which they were placed, you willnot wonder that they were anxious about the future. Their first care hadbeen to fly into the wilderness, without thinking upon the necessitiesthey might encounter there--without reflecting that they had made noprovision of food to sustain them. It is true that in the great Montanathere are many plants and trees whose roots and fruits can be eaten; buta traveller may go for days without finding one of these. Indeed, topass through this great forest, in most places, is impossible, socompletely are the creeping parasites matted and laced together. It isnecessary to keep along the rivers in a canoe or raft, else you cannotget from place to place.
You cannot even walk along the banks of many of these rivers, as theunderwood hangs into the very water! For the same reason game is hard tobe procured, and neither Don Pablo nor Guapo were provided with properweapons to hunt with. Don Pablo's pistols were all the fire-arms theyhad, and Guapo had no other weapon than his machete. With their presentmeans, then, there was very little chance of their killing any game,even should they have fallen in with it. But they saw none as yet,except some birds, such as parrots, macaws, and toucans, that flutteredamong the leaves. No wonder, then, they were anxious about what theyshould find to eat, or whether they should find anything at all.
Don Pablo considered the cross a good omen, or rather a good _sign_.Some missionary must have planted it in years gone by. No doubt amissionary station must have been near; and it was highly probable thatwhat he had seen in the little valley below would turn out to be thevery place where it had stood.
As soon as it became day, therefore, Don Pablo again ascended the treeto take the bearings of the valley, so that they should proceed towardsit. Guapo also climbed up, so that both might make sure of the routethey ought to take--for in the tangled forests of South America it is noeasy matter to reach any object, which you may have only seen at adistance from the top of a tree. Without a compass, the traveller soonloses his direction; and, after hours of vain exertion and deviouswandering, often finds himself at the very place from which he hadstarted.
After carefully noting the direction of the valley, Don Pablo and Guapocame down from the tree; and while the former, assisted by Leon, packedand saddled the animals, Guapo was busy with his machete in clearingaway the brushwood that obstructed the path. This did not turn out sucha task after all. It was only at the brow of the ridge, where theundergrowth had choked up the way. A little farther down it was quitepassable, and the party, animals and all, were soon winding down theSierra towards the valley. Half-an-hour's travelling brought them totheir destination; and then a shout of joy, coming simultaneously fromall of them, announced their arrival upon the spot.
What was it that caused them to utter this shout of joy? Before themtowered the great _musaceae_--plantains and bananas. There were both:their broad yellow-green and wax-like leaves sheathing their succulentstems, and bending gracefully over to a length of twenty feet. Butbeautiful as were the leaves of these giant plants, more attractivestill to the eyes of our travellers were the huge clusters of fruit-podsthat hung from beneath them. Each of these would have weighed nearly anhundred-weight! There was food for hundreds. These plants grew by thewater's edge, in a damp soil--their natural habitat. Their leavesdrooped over the stream. Another plant, equally interesting, was seenfarther back, in a dry place. There were many of these ten or fifteenfeet high, and as thick as a man's wrist. This was the _yucca_ plant.All of them knew it. They knew that its roots produced the far-famedcassava. Cassava is bread. Hurrah! the staff of life was secure!
But, more than this, there were fruits in abundance; there were mangoesand guavas, oranges and the celebrated cherimoya--the favourite of Peru.There were shaddocks and sweet limes; and see! yonder is a clump ofsugar-canes, with their thin silken leaves and yellow tassels waving inthe wind. Oh, look here! Here is a coffee-shrub, with its ripe, aromaticberries; and here is the cacao-tree. Coffee and chocolate--there was achoice of beverages! Ha! what have we here--this plant like an orangetree? It is a species of holly. As I live, it is the _yerba mate_, the"Paraguay tea." What shall we light upon next?
And so the delighted travellers went on, over the ground, through thethick-tangled weeds and convolvuli, making new discoveries at everystep. Even Guapo's favourite, the coca-shrub, was found growing amongthe rest, and the eyes of the old Indian sparkled at the sight of it.
Don Pablo's first conjecture had been right. They had arrived at theruin of some old missionary station, long since deserted. Some zealousmonk had planted all these plants and trees; had for years, no doubt,tended them with care; had dreamt of establishing around this lonelyspot a great hierarchy, and making the "wilderness blossom as the rose."An evil day had come--perhaps during the revolt of Juan Santos, or maybein the later revolution of Tupac Amaru. The hand of the savage had beenturned against the priest, who had fallen a victim, and his roof--themission-house--had been given to the flames. Not a vestige of buildingwas to be seen--neither stick nor stone--and had it not been for thecurious variety of vegetation collected on the spot, this oncecultivated and flourishing garden might have been taken for part of theprimeval forest.
It must have been a long time since the place was inhabited, for greattrees and parasites had grown up in the midst of the cultivated plants.
After the first transports of delight had to some extent subsided, aconsultation was held as to future proceedings. They were not long incoming to a conclusion. It was resolved that a house should be built inthe middle of this wild garden, which should be, for a time at least,their home.
The poor llamas had made their last journey. They were to be killed.Guapo, although reluctant to part with his old favourites, knew thatthey could not live in the warm climate of the valley, and thereforeconsented. Their flesh, it is true, is none of the best, but it wouldtaste the better that no other was to be had; and their wool and skinswould be found useful. The llamas were killed.