CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.
THE AVESTRUZ.
Soon after the trio of trackers have re-entered the _algarobia_ grove, afrizzling, sputtering noise is heard therein; while an appetising odourspreads all around, borne afar on the balmy breeze of the morning. Boththe sound and the smell proceed from some choice tit-bits which Gasparhas taken from the body of the great bird--chiefly slices from the thighbone and breast.
By the time Cypriano has doffed the masquerading dress, and resumed hisproper travelling costume, the cooking is done, and breakfast declaredready.
While eating it, by way of accompaniment they naturally converse aboutthe bird. Not the particular one which exclusively forms their repast,but of ostriches in general, and more especially those of South Americacommonly called _rheas_; though to the gauchos better known by the name_avestruz_.
Both the boys are pretty well acquainted with these birds and theirhabits; Cypriano having several times taken part in their chase; whileLudwig best knows them in a scientific sense. Still there are many oftheir ways, and strange ones, of which neither one nor the other hasever heard, but that Gaspar has been witness to with his own eyes. Itis the gaucho, therefore, who imparts most of the information, theothers being little more than listeners.
"Though the thing isn't generally known," he says, "there are severaldistinct kinds of _avestruz_ in different parts of the country. Ofmyself I've seen three. First, a very small sort, not much bigger thana turkey cock. It's darker coloured than the kind we're eating, withshorter legs and feathered further down. It don't lay so many eggseither; but, strange to say, they are almost as big as those of theother sort, only differently shaped, and with a tinge of blue on theshell. It I saw when I once went on an expedition with the Buenos Ayresarmy down south to the plains of Patagonia. There the climate is muchcolder than up here, and the _avestruz petise_, as the bird's called,seems to like that best; since it's never seen on the warm pampasfarther north. On the other hand, the sort we have here, which is thebiggest of all, never strays down to these very cold districts, but goesall over the _Chaco_ country, where it's hottest. The third kind I'veseen is in bulk about midways between the two; but it's a very rarebird, and I believe not known to the learned _naturalistas_. Isn't thatso, Senor Ludwig?"
"Indeed, yes. I never heard of a third species, though father has toldme of the _avestruz petise_; which, as you say, is only found far south,ranging from the Rio Negro to the Straits of Magellan."
"Well," continues Gaspar, resuming his account, "I'm sure of there beingthere sorts; though I don't know much about the other two, only thiswe've met here. Of them I ought to know a good deal, having hunted themas often as there are days in the year. One thing there's been no endof disputation about; and that is whether several hens lay their eggs inthe same nest. Now, I can say for certain they do. I've seen severalgo to the same nest, one after the other, and on the same day too. Whatshould take them there if not to lay their eggs? True, they drop themabout everywhere, in a very loose, careless way; as can be told by theirbeing seen scattered all over the _campo_, and far from any nest. Whatthis is for I cannot myself tell; though I've heard some gauchos saythat these stray eggs--_huachos_ we call them--are laid here and therefor the young birds to feed upon. But that can't be so, since the_huachos_ are never found pecked or broken, but always whole, whetherthey be fresh or addled. I think it's more likely that the hens dropthese stray eggs because they have no nest in which to put them; thatwhere they have laid their others being already full. Besides, there isthe cock sitting upon it; who won't let any of them come near, once hehas taken to hatching?"
"Is it true, then, that the cock does the hatching?" interrogatesLudwig.
"Quite true--all of it; and he's got a good many eggs to cover. I'vecounted over fifty in one nest. That of itself shows no single hencould have laid them; for, as it would take her a long time, the firstones would be rotten before the last came. As for the cock whensitting, he's as cross as an old duck doing the same, but _ten_ timesmore dangerous to go near. I've known of a gaucho getting a kick fromone he'd started from off the nest, almost as hard as if it had beengiven by a mule. And to hear them hiss then! Ah! that was nothingwe've just heard from this fellow."
"Is it true they can swim, Gaspar?" again questions Ludwig.
"Like swans. No, I'm wrong there, for nothing can be more unlike. Sofar as the swimming goes, the _avestruz_ can do it, but in quite adifferent way from swans. They swim with their bodies under water, andonly their shoulders, with the head and neck, above. It's a funny sightto see a flock of them crossing one of the big rivers; and scores oftimes I've been eye-witness to that bit of comicality. _Carramba_! acurious bird, the _avestruz_ is altogether, and a useful one, as we'venow good reason to know. So, _senoritos_, let us be thankful toProvidence that there's such a plenty of them on these _pampas_, andabove all, for guiding the steps of this fine specimen, as to place itso directly and opportunely in our way."
The discourse about ostriches is brought to a close with the breakfastupon that which had led to it; both, along with the incident of thebird's capture, having occupied little more time than is here taken intelling of them. So little, indeed, that the sun's disc is not yet allabove the horizon, when, having completed the repast, the trackers startup from their seats around the fire, and proceed to caparisoning theiranimals.
Nor do they spend many moments at this. Ever mindful of what hasbrought them thither--no mere excursion for pleasure's sake, but anexpedition forced upon them through sad, painful necessity--they wastenot a second that can be saved. Quickly, therefore, their horses aregot under saddle, and bridled, with every article of their _impedimenta_fixed and fastened in its respective place, besides, something on thecroup of Ludwig _recado_, which was not hitherto there. Where the losttraps had been carried, are now seen the two thigh-bones of the cockostrich, with most of the flesh still adhering, each as large as a legof mutton. There is a heart, liver, and gizzard also stowed away in awrap of a _vihao_, or wild plantain leaves, which, tied in a securepacket, dangles alongside; the whole, as Gaspar declared, enough to keepthem provisioned for at least a couple of days.
But although everything seems in readiness, they are not yet prepared totake a final departure from the place. A matter remains to bedetermined, and one of the utmost importance--being no less than thedirection in which they should go. They have thought of it the nightbefore, but not till darkness had come down upon them. Stillunrecovered from the excitement consequent on the attack of the_gymnoti_, and afterwards occupied in drying their wet garments, withother cares of the occasion, even Gaspar had failed during daylight toexamine the nether side of the ford at its outcoming, where he supposedhe might hit upon the trail they were in search of. It was not becausehe had forgotten it, but that, knowing they would stay there all night,he also knew the tracks, if any, would keep till the morning.
Morning having arrived, from earliest daybreak and before, as is known,they have been otherwise occupied; and only now, at the moment of movingoff, do they find time to look for that which must decide their futurecourse and the route they are to take.
With a parting glance at the place of bivouac, and each leading his ownhorse, they move out of the _algarobia_ grove, and on down to the edgeof the _riacho_, stopping at the spot where they came across.
But not a moment spend they there, in the search for hoof-marks otherthan those of their own horses. They see others soon as arrived at thestream's edge; scores of them, and made by the same animals they havebeen all along tracking. Not much in this it might appear; sinceunfortunately, these hoof-marks can be distinguished no farther than tothe summit of the sloping bank. Beyond they are covered up, aselsewhere, by the mud. But Gaspar's keen eye is not to be thus baffled;and a joyful ejaculation escaping his lips tells he has discoveredsomething which gives him gladness. On Cypriano asking what it is, hemakes answer--
"Just what we're wanting to find out; the route the redskins h
ave takenafter parting from this place. Thanks to the Virgin, I know the waythey went now, as well as if I'd been along with them."
"How do you know that?" questions Cypriano, who with Ludwig has beenexamining the Indian trail down by the water's edge--apart from thegaucho, who had followed it up to the summit of the slope.
"Come hither!" he calls out. "Look there!" he adds as they get besidehim, "You see that these tracks have the toes all turned down stream;which tells me the horses did the same, and, I should say, also theirriders. Yes! Soon as out of the water they turned down; proof good aspositive that they've gone along the _riacho_ this side, and back againto the big river. So it's no use our delaying longer here; there'snothing farther to be learnt, or gained by it."
So says Gaspar; but Cypriano, and also Ludwig, think otherwise. Bothhave a wish--indeed, an earnest desire--once more to look upon thetracks of the pony on which they know Francesca to have been mounted.And communicating this to the gaucho, he holds their horses while theyreturn to search for them.
To their satisfaction they again beheld the diminutive hoof-marks; twoor three of which have escaped being trampled out by the horses thatcame behind. And after regarding them for a time with sad glances,Ludwig turns away sighing, while his cousin gives utterance to what moreresembles a curse, accompanied by words breathing vengeance against theabductors.
Rejoining the gaucho, all three mount into their saddles; and, withoutfurther dallying, ride off down the _riacho_, to make back for the mainriver.
But, again upon the latter's bank, they find the trail blind as before,with nothing to guide them, save the stream itself. To the gaucho,however, this seems sufficient, and turning his horses's head upward, hecries out--
"Now, _muchachos mios_! we must on to the _salitral_!"
And on for this they ride; to reach the point where it commences, justas the sun's lower limb touches, seeming to rest on the level line ofthe horizon.
And now, having arrived on the edge of the _salitral_, they make halt,still keeping to their saddles, with eyes bent over the waste whichstretches far beyond and before them. Greater than ever is the gloom intheir looks as they behold the sterile tract, which should have shownsnow-white, all black and forbidding. For the _salitral_, as all therest of the campo, is covered with a stratum of mud, and the _travesia_across it has been altogether obliterated.
Gaspar only knows the place where it begins; this by the bank of theriver which there also commences its curve, turning abruptly off to thesouth. He thinks the route across the _salitral_ is due westward, buthe is not sure. And there is no sign of road now, not a trace toindicate the direction. Looking west, with the sun's disc right beforetheir faces, they see nothing but the brown bald expanse, treeless ascheerless, with neither break nor bush, stick nor stone, to relieve themonotony of its surface, or serve as a land-mark for the traveller. Andthe same thing both to the right and left, far as their eyes can reach;for here the river, after turning off, has no longer a skirting oftrees; its banks beyond being a low-lying saline marsh--in short, a partof the _salitral_. To ride out upon that wilderness waste, to allappearance endless, with any chance or hope of finding the way acrossit, would be like embarking in an open boat, and steering straight forthe open ocean.
Not on that night, anyhow, do they intend making the attempt, as thedarkness will soon be down upon them. So dismounting from their horses,they set about establishing a camp.
But when established they take little delight in its occupation. Nowmore than ever are they doubtful and dejected; thinking of that terrible_travesia_, of which all traces are lost, and none may be found beyond.To Cypriano no night since their starting out seemed so long as this.
Little dream they, while seated around their camp-fire, or lyingsleepless alongside it, that the tract of country they so much dreadentering upon, will, in a few hours' time, prove their best friend.Instead of sending them further astray it will put them once more on thelost trail, with no longer a likelihood of their again losing it.
Unaware of this good fortune before them, they seek rest with feelingsof the utmost despondency, and find sleep only in short snatches.