Wild Life in the Land of the Giants Part 36

"Then it was, after all, a case of elopement. It was young Lochnivar all over again, only ten times more so."

"We see, then, Peter," I said, "that the self-same feelings agitate the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of these savages as dwell in our own."

"Yes," said Peter, "human nature is the same all the world over."

That evening, after supper, Jill asked Peter what his feelings were particularly.

"I don't know," was the reply, "which end of me is uppermost. I feel all bruised and sore, and just as though I had gone in at one end of a thrashing machine and come out at the other."

"Won't you sing us a song to-night, then?" said Castizo, laughing, "or play on your pipe?"

"Play, _mon ami_? Pipe, my friend? It'll be when I'm asleep, then."

"I tell you what it is, you know," said Ritchie. "You wouldn't find it 'alf so 'ard on ye if you were to stick more in the saddle."

"Ah! well," said Peter, "I'll perhaps learn to. Anyhow, I mean to try.

Good-night, boys; I'm off to the land of dreams."

Extra precaution was used to-night to prevent a surprise. Although he had been riding all day, Castizo intimated his intention of keeping the middle watch. He knew the Patagonians well, and knew that, while he lived, Jeeka would not be forgiven by the chief whom he had made his brother-in-law in so heroic a manner. Sooner or later vengeance would come, and it would be sooner rather than later if the northern Indians should have their will.

But the night wore away peacefully, and next day a scout, who had been sent out early to see what was doing at the hostile camp, returned with a morsel of half-burnt wood in his hand. He silently handed it to Jeeka. It was cold to the heart.

The enemy had gone early.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

A BLINDING SUMMER-SNOWSTORM--PETER AS A HORSEMAN--PETER IN A FIX.

Such is the exhilarating and toning power of the air on the Pampas, that though we had all lain down tired enough, we felt as fresh next morning as mountain trouts.

The only feeling that remained from our exertions of yesterday was a kind of gentle and not unpleasant languor. We were therefore in no great hurry to depart. But as towards ten o'clock the clouds began to bank up and obscure the sun in the north and east, and our present camp was not one of the best-positioned, Castizo gave the order for departure.

We had not gone far till up started an ostrich right from under Jill's horse's nose, and lo! and behold, our first find of a nest--if nest it could be called.

As there were but fifteen eggs in it, we were sure they would be fresh, so we quickly appropriated them, the poor bird himself and his mate, who was not far away, both falling victims to the bolas of the Indians.

Perhaps it was just as well; it took them away from sorrow.

A most exemplary parent and husband is the ostrich. The hen bird lays over a score of eggs, and the c.o.c.k considers it his duty to do the greater part of the hatching. At all events, he sits on the nest for about eighteen hours out of the twenty-four, and before he leaves the nest carefully turns every egg over. Then he goes away to stretch his legs and scratch a bit for his breakfast, which it must be allowed he has fairly earned. While he is gone it is the hen's turn to brood, so that between them, in about a month's time, they usually succeed in raising a very large family of the most idiotic-looking chickens it has ever been my good fortune to cast eyes upon.

There is no close time for the ostrich on the Pampas of Patagonia, and it will probably be a very long time indeed before there is one.

Meanwhile, despite hunters, white and brown, wild cats, pumas, and foxes, the birds thrive and abound in such quant.i.ties, that the wonder is that more sportsmen from this country do not go to Patagonia to try their luck.

As we advanced on our journey to-day the weather seemed to grow colder and colder. The wind went down at last. It had not been high all the morning. Then little morsels of snow began to fall. They were no bigger than millet-seeds, but Jeeka shook his head when he saw them, pointed upwards, then around him, and said something to our cacique in Patagonian.

The millet-seed snow gradually merged into flakes; bigger and bigger did these grow, till at last we were in the midst of a blinding summer's snowstorm.

It was impossible to see even a few yards ahead, so we formed into line, one going in front of the other, Jeeka and Castizo being ahead. Castizo had a compa.s.s. Jeeka seemed to carry a compa.s.s in the brain. He appeared to know every rock, every bush, and every tussock of gra.s.s, disguised though they now were in a mantle of snow.

By and by Castizo came to the rear, where, with heads down and with our arms often across our faces, leaving it entirely to the horses to follow the trail, Peter, Jill, and I were struggling on.

"How do you like it?" he said cheerfully to Jill, who was the centre figure.

"I've been more agreeably situated many a time," replied Jill.

"And I've been more agreeably _seat_-uated too," cried Peter, with a glance behind him, which almost cost him the seat he was punning about.

For when on horseback, poor Peter was always like the rocking-stone on the Cornish hills--touch and go. Only the rocking-stone never does go.

Peter did frequently, and although the sly dog at first pretended that he could ride, he had the reckless courage to confess now that he had been mistaken. He would not venture to look up in the air, he said, for anything; and whenever he was rash enough to glance behind him, as he did now, he had to clutch at the saddle with both hands.

"Peter!" I shouted, "you'll fall, little boy."

"He deserves to," said Jill, "after making so despicable a pun."

"Well," said Castizo, laughing, "seat or no seat, Peter, you will have to remain in that saddle for many hours to come. You'll have to dine there, too."

"Will I, indeed? Well, _mon ami_, before night comes I'll be as soft as a jellyfish or a lightly boiled egg. But never mind, if I'm to be a martyr, here goes. I'm willing."

Just at that very moment, as if fate were all against Peter, his horse stumbled and the rider tumbled. Then the steed stood stock still, and Peter got up, rubbing himself amid a chorus of laughing. We really could not help it, he looked so comical and ridiculous. Castizo had to hold his sides, and Nadi, who was next in front, and of course jumped to the conclusion that Peter had done it on purpose, and that he was the most humorous youth under the sun, made the Pampa ring with her merry laughter.

"He, he, hee-ee!" she laughed. "O Engleese! Engleese!"

But Peter himself looked as solemn as a judge with the black cap on. He simply rubbed himself.

"That's the way it's done, you see," he said at last. "You thought I would remain in the saddle for many hours, did you, my friend? Ah! you don't know Peter Jeffries yet."

"Well, Peter," I said, "I should think that falling off would get somewhat monotonous at last."

"I _don't_ fall off. The beast pitches me off Come, Jack, don't you sit and grin there like a cub fox at a dead turkey. Get down and give a fellow a leg-up."

I did as told, and Peter was soon seated once more. Nadi departed still laughing, for she never could imagine that any one, unless a squaw, would ask a "leg-up." She imagined it was all part of the performance.

Peter was evidently a favourite of hers.

This was still more evident when, about an hour afterwards, wishing to adjust her robe, she rode coolly alongside his horse and, before Peter could tell what she was about, deposited the baby in his arms.

Peter looked aghast, though he kept firm hold of the child.

"_Honi soit qui mal y pense_!" he said, solemnly. "Honey, suet, marling-spikes, and pens! I'm in a fix now. Jack, dear boy, are you behind me? I daren't look round for the world!"

"I'm here," I answered, choking with laughter.

"Pray for me, Jack. I'll do as much for you again. Goodness gracious, Jack! if I've got to leave the saddle now, I'll be death of this darling child. If the horse should stumble or baby should kick, it's all up with us; and I haven't made my will either."

Here the baby sneezed, and Peter swayed unsteadily in the saddle.

"Hoop!" he cried. "I did think it was all up with me then. Jack, will you have baby?"

"Not I, thank you."