Gaspar the Gaucho Part 17

As they proceed onward, Gaspar gives them some further information about the ford they are making for.

"We can easily wade it," he says, "if this awkward and ill-timed dust-storm hasn't changed it, as everything else. When poor dear master and I went across--that would be about six months ago--the water wasn't quite up to our stirrups; but, like as not, last night's downpour has raised it too, and we'll have a swim for it. Well, that won't matter much. There, at all events, we can get the horses out; as the bank slopes off gently. So there'll be no fear of our being stuck or sent floundering in the stream. A regular Indian road, crosses the _riacho_ there, and has worn a rut running down to the channel on both sides."

His hearers are pleased at this intelligence; Cypriano signifying so by the laconic rejoinder--

"_Esta bueno_."

Then follows an interval of silence; after which Gaspar, as if some new thought had occurred to him, suddenly exclaims--

"_Santos Dios_! I'd forgotten that."

"Forgotten what?" both inquire, with a surprised, but not apprehensive look; for the gaucho's words were not in this tone.

"Something," he answers, "which we ought to find at this very crossing-place. A bit of good luck it's being here."

"And what do you expect from it?" questions Cypriano.

"I expect to learn whether we're still on the right track, or have strayed away from it. We've been going by guesswork long enough; but, if I don't greatly mistake we'll there see something to tell us whether our guesses have been good or bad. If the redskins have come up the river at all, it's pretty sure they also have crossed the _riacho_ at this very ford, and we should there see some traces of them. Sure to find them on the sloping banks, as we did by the _arroyo_. That will count a score in our favour."

By the time he has ceased speaking, they have reached the _quebracha_; and, soon as under its shadow, Gaspar again reins up, telling the others to do the same. It is not that he has any business with the beacon tree, as with that which served them for a barometer; but simply, because they are once more within sight of the stream--out of view since they left its bank below. The ford is also before their eyes, visible over the tops of some low bordering bushes.

But what has now brought the gaucho to a stop is neither the stream, nor its crossing-place; but a flock of large birds wading about in the water, at the point where he knows the ford to be. Long-legged creatures they are, standing as on stilts, and full five feet high, snow-white in colour, all but their huge beaks, which are jet black, with a band of naked skin around their necks, and a sort of pouch like a pelican's, this being of a bright scarlet. For they are _garzones soldados_, or "soldier-cranes," so-called from their red throats bearing a fancied resemblance to the facings on the collar of a soldier's coat, in the uniform of the Argentine States.

"_Bueno_!" is the pleased exclamation which proceeds from the gaucho's lips, as he sits contemplating the cranes. "We sha'n't have any swimming to do here; the rain don't seem to have deepened the ford so much as a single inch. You see those long-legged gentry; it barely wets their feet. So much the better, since it ensures us against getting our own wetted, with our baggage to the boot. Stay!" he adds, speaking as if from some sudden resolve, "let's watch the birds a bit. I've a reason."

Thus cautioned, the others hold their horses at rest, all with their eyes fixed upon the soldier-cranes; which still unconscious of intruders in such close proximity, continue the occupation in which they were engaged when first seen--that of fishing.

Every now and then one darts its long bayonet-like beak into the water, invariably drawing it out with a fish between the mandibles; this, after a short convulsive struggle, and a flutter or two of its tail fins, disappearing down the crane's capacious throat.

"Having their breakfast," observes the gaucho, "or, I should rather call it dinner," he adds, with a glance upward to the sky. "And the height of that sun reminds me of its being high time for us to do something in the same line, if I hadn't been already reminded of it by a hollow I feel here." He places his spread palm over the pit of his stomach, and then continues, "So we may as well dine now; though, sad to say, we haven't a morsel to make a meal upon but that juiceless _charqui.

Santissima_! what am I thinking about? I verily believe my brains have got bemuddled, like everything else. Nothing but _charqui_, indeed!

Ha! we'll dine more daintily, if I know what's what. Here, _senoritos_!

back your horses behind those bushes. Quick, gently."

While speaking, he turns his own out of the path, and rides crouchingly to the rear of the bushes indicated, thus putting a screen between himself and the soldier-cranes.

Following his example, the others do likewise, but without the slightest idea of what he is going to be after next.

Cypriano inquiring, receives the very unsatisfactory answer--

"You'll see."

And they do see; first himself dismounting and tying his bridle to a branch; then detaching his lazo from its ring in the saddle-tree, and carefully adjusting its coils over his left arm. This done, he separates from them, as he walks away, speaking back in a whisper:--

"Keep your ground, young masters, till I return to you, and if you can help it, don't let the horses make any noise, or budge an inch. For yourselves, _silencio_!"

As they promise all this, he parts from them, and is soon out of sight; their last glance showing him to be making for the ford, going with bent body and crouched gait, as cat or cougar stealing upon its prey.

For some ten minutes or so, they neither see nor hear more of him; and can only conjecture that the design he has so suddenly conceived, has something to do with the _garzones_. So believing, curiosity prompts them to have another peep at these piscatory birds; which by standing up in their stirrups--for they are still seated in the saddle--they can.

Looking over the tops of the bushes, they see that the cranes continue fishing undisturbed, and seemingly unaware of an enemy being near, or that danger threatens them.

But not much longer are they left to enjoy this feeling of security.

While the two youths are still regarding them, first one, then another, is observed to elevate its head to the full height of its long slender neck; while here and there throughout the flock are heard cries of warning or alarm; the frightened ones letting fall the fish already in their beaks, while those not quite so much scared, suddenly swallow them. But in another instant, all, as if by one impulse, give out a simultaneous scream; then, rising together, spread their broad, sail-like wings, and go flapping away.

No, not all. One stays in the _riacho_; no longer to look after fish, but with both wings outspread over the surface of the stream, beating the water into froth--as it does so, all the while drawing nearer and nearer to the nether bank! But its movements are convulsive and involuntary, as can be told by something seen around its neck resembling a rope. And a rope it is; the youths knowing it to be the _lazo_ they late saw coiled over Caspar's arm, knowing also that he is at the other end of it. He is hauling it in, hand over hand, till the captured bird, pa.s.sing under the high bank, disappears from their view.

Soon, however, to re-appear; but now carried under the gaucho's arm.

He cries out as he approaches them:--

"_Viva! muchachitos_! Give me congratulation, as I intend giving you a good dinner. If we can call _charqui_ flesh, as I suppose we must, then we shall have fish, flesh, and fowl, all the three courses. So we'll dine sumptuously, after all."

Saying which, he draws out his knife, and cuts open the crane's crop, exposing to view several goodly-sized fish, fresh as if just cleared from a draw-net! They are of various sorts; the riverine waters of South America being noted for their wonderful multiplicity of both genera and species. The Amazon and its tributaries, are supposed to contain at least three thousand distinct species; a fact upon which the American naturalist, Aga.s.siz--somewhat of an empiric, by the way--has founded a portion of his spurious fame, on the pretence of being its discoverer. It was pointed out by a real naturalist, Alfred Wallace, ten years before Aga.s.siz ever set eyes on the Amazon; and its record will be found in the appendix to Wallace's most interesting work relating to this, the grandest of rivers.

In the La Plata, and its confluent streams, are also many genera and species; a question that gives Gaspar not the slightest concern, while contemplating those he has just made the _garzon_ disgorge. Instead, he but thinks of putting them to the broil. So, in ten minutes after they are frizzling over a fire; in twenty more, to be stowed away in other stomachs than that of the soldier-crane.

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

ATTACKED BY GYMNOTI.

Gaspar's promise to give them a dinner of the three orthodox courses-- fish, flesh, and fowl--was only meant in a jocular sense. For the flesh, their stock of _charqui_ is not drawn upon; and as to fowl, the soldier-crane would be a still more unpalatable morsel. So it results in their dining simply upon fish; this not only without sauce, but swallowed at second-hand!

While they are occupied in the eating it, the gaucho, seeming more cheerful than usual, says:--

"I've a bit of good news for you, _hijos mios_."

"Indeed! what?" is their eager inquiry.

"That we are still upon the right road. The redskins have gone past here, as I supposed they would."

"You've discovered fresh traces of them, then?"

"I have ever so many scratches of their horses' feet, where they slipped in stepping down to the stream. Quite plain they are; I could distinguish them some way off, and with half an eye, as I was hauling in the _soldado_. Good news, I call it; since we won't have to take the back-track anyhow. What's before us remains to be seen. Possibly, on the other side we may light on something else, to tell the direction they've taken. So, we'd better lose no time, but cross over."

Hurriedly finishing their primitive repast, they spring back upon their _recados_, and ride down to the ford.

Once in the water, they find it not quite so shallow, as they had supposed from seeing the _garzones_ wading about with but the slightest portion of their shanks below the surface. For at the bottom is a substratum of mud; a soft slimy ooze, firm enough to support the light birds, but through which the heavier quadrupeds, further weighted with themselves and their baggage, sink to their bellies.

Gaspar is surprised at finding the ford in this condition. It was not so when he pa.s.sed over it before, and he can only account for the change by the dust from the _tormenta_ having been blown in large quant.i.ties into the stream, then carried down by the current, and settling over the shallow crossing-place.

Whatever the cause, they find it awkward work to wade through the sticky slime. Still, they might have accomplished the crossing without accident, and doubtless would have done so, but for an impediment of another kind--one not only altogether unexpected, but far more to be dreaded than any danger of their going head and ears over into the ooze.

For just as they have reached mid-stream, and are splashing and floundering on, Gaspar, who is riding ahead, and shouting back directions to the others, all at once finds his attention fully occupied in looking to himself, or rather to his horse. For the animal has come to a stop, suddenly and without any restraint of the rein, and stands uttering strange snorts, while quivering throughout every fibre of its frame!

Glancing over his shoulder, the gaucho sees that the other horses have also halted, and are behaving in a precisely similar manner, their riders giving utterance to excited exclamations. Ludwig looks a picture of astonishment; while, strange to say, on Cypriano's countenance the expression is more one of alarm! And the same on the face of the gaucho himself; for he, as the young Paraguayan comprehends the situation, and well knows what has brought their horses so abruptly to a halt.

"What is it, Gaspar?" questions Ludwig, now also alarmed at seeing the others so.