CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
TASTE AFTER POWDER.
Long before daylight penetrates the interior of the cavern, or shows itsfirst streak on the sky outside, the trackers are up and active.
A hasty breakfast is prepared; but, as the mutton bone is now quitebare, they have to fall back on another kind of flesh-meat, which theprovident Caspar has brought along. This is _charqui_, or as it iscalled by English-speaking people "jerked beef;" in all likelihood asailor's pseudonym, due to some slight resemblance, between the Englishword "jerked," and the Guarani Indian one _charqui_, as pronounced bySouth American people.
_Charqui_ is simply beef cut into long, thin strips, then hung over arope or rail, and exposed to a hot sun--in the absence of this, to afire--till the juices are thoroughly dried out of it. Thus prepared, itwill keep for weeks, indeed months.
The reason for so preserving it, is the scarcity of salt, which in thedistricts where _charqui_ prevails, is difficult to be got at, and, inconsequence, dear. Most of the beef imported from the La Plata, underthe name of "jerked beef," is not _charqui_, but simply meat cured withsalt. Beef is preserved by a similar process throughout most parts ofSpanish America, as in Mexico, and California, and for the same reason;but in these countries it is termed _tasajo_, and sometimes _cecina_.
_Charqui_ is by no means a dainty viand; not nice either to the nose orpalate. Those portions of it which have not had sufficient sun in thedrying process, become tainted, and the odour is anything but agreeable.For all, it serves a purpose in those countries where salt is a scarcecommodity; and cooked--as all Spanish Americans cook it--with aplentiful seasoning of onions, garlic, and chili, the "gamey" flavourceases to be perceptible. Above all, it is a boon to the traveller whohas a long journey to make through the uninhabited wilderness, with noinns nor post-houses at which he may replenish his spent stock ofprovisions. Being dry, firm, and light, it can be conveniently carriedin haversack, or saddle-bags.
By Caspar's foresight, there is a packet of it in Ludwig's _alparejas_,where all the other provisions are stowed; and a piece cut from one ofthe strips, about the length of a Bologna sausage, makes breakfast forall three. Of the Paraguay tea they have a good store, the _yerba_being a commodity which packs in small space.
Their morning meal is dismissed with slight ceremony; and soon as eaten,they recaparison their horses; then leading them out of the cavern,mount, and are off. As the _arroyo_ has long since shrunk to itsordinary level, and the path along the base of the bluff is dry as whentrodden by them in their rush for shelter from the storm, they have nodifficulty in getting out. So on they ride up the steep acclivity tothe cliff's crest; which last is on a level with the pampa itself.
But on reaching it, a sight meets their eyes--it is now daylight--causing a surprise to Ludwig and Cypriano; but to Gaspar somethingmore--something akin to dismay. For the sage gaucho mentally seesfurther than either of his less experienced companions; and that nowobserved by him gives token of a new trouble in store for them. Theplain is no longer a green grassy savanna, as when they galloped acrossit on the afternoon preceding, but a smooth expanse, dark brown incolour, its surface glittering under the red rays of the rising sun,whose disc is as yet but half visible above the horizon!
"_Santos Dios_!" exclaims the gaucho, as he sits in his saddle,contemplating the transformation, to him no mystery. "I thought itwould be so."
"How very strange!" remarks Ludwig.
"Not at all strange, _senorito_; but just as it should be, and as wemight have expected."
"But what has caused it?"
"Oh, cousin," answered Cypriano, who now comprehends all. "Can't yousee? I do."
"See what?"
"Why, that the dust has settled down over the plain; and the rain comingafter, has converted it into mud."
"Quite right, Senor Cypriano," interposes Gaspar; "but that isn't theworst of it."
Both turn their eyes upon him, wondering what worse he can allude to.Cypriano interrogates:--
"Is it some new danger, Gaspar?"
"Not exactly a danger, but almost as bad; a likelihood of our beingagain delayed."
"But how?"
"We'll no longer have track or trace to guide us, if this abominablesludge extend to the river; as I daresay it does. There we'll find thetrail blind as an owl at noontide. As you see, the thing's nearly aninch thick all over the ground. 'Twould smother up the wheel-ruts of aloaded _carreta_."
His words, clearly understood by both his young companions, cause themrenewed uneasiness. For they can reason, that if the trail beobliterated, their chances of being able to follow the route taken bythe abductors will be reduced to simple guessing; and what hope wouldthere be searching that way over the limitless wilderness of the Chaco?
"Well?" says Gaspar, after they had remained for some moments gazingover the cheerless expanse which extends to the very verge of theirvision, "it won't serve any good purpose, our loitering here. We may aswell push on to the river, and there learn the worst--if worst it's tobe. _Vamonos_!"
With this, the Spanish synonym for "Come along!" the gaucho gives hishorse a dig in the ribs, with spur rowels of six inches diameter, andstarts off at a swinging pace, the others after.
And now side by side go all three, splashing and spattering through themortar-like mud, which, flung up in flakes by their horses' hoofs, isscattered afar in every direction.
Half an hour of quick cantering brings them back upon the Pilcomayo'sbank; not where they had parted from it, but higher up, near the mouthof the _arroyo_. For Gaspar did not deem it necessary to return to thatprophetic tree, whose forecast has proved so unfailing. To have goneback thither would have been a roundabout of several miles, since theyhad made a cross-cut to reach the cavern; and as on the way they hadseen nothing of the Indian trail, it must needs have continued up theriver.
But now, having reached this, they cannot tell; for here, as on all theplain over which they have passed, is spread the same coating ofhalf-dried dirt, fast becoming drier and firmer as the ascendingtropical sun, with strengthened intensity, pours his hot beams upon it.It has smothered up the Indian's trail as completely as it snow severalinches deep lay upon it. No track there, no sign to show, that eitherhorses or men ever passed up the Pilcomayo's bank.
"_Caspita_!" exclaims the gaucho, in spiteful tone. "It is as Ianticipated; blind as an old mule with a _tapojo_ over its eyes. Maythe fiends take that _tormenta_!"