Wild Life in the Land of the Giants Part 46

This was Jeeka's Gol de Rio. He certainly merited the t.i.tle; a more repulsive specimen of river otter I have never seen, before nor since.

We dragged him home with a la.s.so, and the Indian women and children ran screaming to their toldos when they saw him.

I was told afterwards that this river-lion had more than once seized children who were playing on the banks of the stream, and I can easily believe it.

Do horses, I have often wondered, possess any instinct to warn them of coming danger? The following adventure would seem to prove that they do.

One bright clear morning, Jill and I made up our minds to ride over to the lake in the plains and bring home, if possible, some birds. We took with us Ossian and Bruce. There was not a cloud in the sky when we set out, and all the surface of the ground was covered with hard dry snow.

Unlike Patagonian Indians, white men cannot go very long without food; so Jill and I took a good solid luncheon in our bags, quite enough for ourselves and the dogs also. We had a snack behind our saddles also, so that I might say no huntsmen ever started in quest of sport under happier auspices.

"Good-bye, Peter, if you won't come," "Good-bye, Peter, if you won't come," we cried.

"My b.u.mps!" shouted Peter.

So we waved him a laughing "Adieu!" and went cantering off.

"As the frost is so hard and the day so fine," I said to Jill, "I think we're sure to find some feathers on the lake, for it seldom if ever freezes."

"We're sure to, Jack. And won't we look fine, clattering into camp to-night with the ducks and the geese all dangling to our saddles."

"Peter will be jealous."

"Poor Peter! it's a pity he can't ride better."

So on we trotted, talking and laughing right merrily. Presently Jill said--

"Sing, Jack; I can give you a bit of a ba.s.s."

I did sing, a rattling old saddle-song that I had learned at the Cape.

Jill joined in, the horses' feet kept excellent time, and the very dogs barked with glee as they went galloping on in front.

"Could anything be more jolly?" said Jill.

"Nothing in the world, Jill. I feel as happy as a village maid on her marriage morning."

"Yes, and happiness and hunger go together. I think I could pick a bit already."

"Jill, Jill! you're just the same now as when a boy. Put anything in your pocket, and there never was any keeping your hands from it."

At long last the black water of the lake appeared, and our happiness came to a crisis when we noticed numerous flocks of birds on it, grey, black, and white.

We would have a good bag.

We trotted round the water's edge and finally dismounted.

All the forenoon we walked about, and had many a good shot. Bruce duly retrieved everything, and Ossian sat on the bank and looked on.

Then we went back to our horses, fed them and had our own luncheon; resting a good hour afterwards on the snow. The sun was shining so brightly that we did not feel the cold.

It was by this time pretty far on in the afternoon, but we had not yet made up the splendid bag we had promised ourselves; so we determined to continue the sport, although we already felt somewhat tired, the ground being rather rough.

This time we took the precaution to tie our horses to the calipate or barberry bushes, with la.s.soes.

The day drew so quickly to a close--apparently, I mean, for time does slip fast away when one is enjoying himself.

When the sun sank at last, we found ourselves two good miles at least from our homes. We could not do the distance on such ground, and carrying so much game, under an hour.

"Never mind, Jill," I said; "there will be a moon, you know."

"Half a moon, but that'll be enough. I believe I shall quite enjoy the canter home under the stars."

"What is that yonder, Jill?" As I spoke, I pointed to a long white ridge that was slowly rising over the wooded hills and sierras.

"That is cloud!"

"I hope we are not going to have a change of weather."

"Never mind, we'll soon get home. An hour and a half will do it. Hurry up."

We had been looking for a few minutes more at the ground beneath our feet than at anything else. When I glanced along the lake edge again, I could not believe my eyes, for a moment or two.

Jill gazed in the same direction.

"Our horses were gone!"

Far away on the plain we could descry two black moving spots. These were our steeds, but miles beyond our power of recall.

Night had quite fallen before we left the lake side, for we had to go right back to the places from which our horses had stampeded for our guanaco mantles.

The stars were shining brightly, and high in the heavens was Jill's half-moon; so that for a time we had light enough. We gave many an anxious glance towards the west, however. We naturally wondered whether our horses had gone straight home. If so, a.s.sistance would speedily come. It was unlikely, however, for, excited with having obtained their freedom, the animals would be more apt to make for the forest, there to play truant for a time and crop the twiglets--already breaking into bud and burgeon--from their favourite bushes and trees.

By the time we had walked about three miles we felt very tired indeed, and agreed to abandon our game. We put them, therefore, in a heap on the plain, and continued our journey. But for that ominous cloud bank which was rising higher and higher, we should have taken the journey more easy, and perhaps have rested a while.

On we walked, almost dragging our weary limbs now. The night still continued fine, the moon seemed to change into molten silver, the stars literally sparkled and shone like diamonds in their background of dark ethereal blue.

There was something almost appalling, however, in the gradual approach of that great sheet of cloud, rising grim and dark on the western horizon. It came on and up more swiftly every minute, and soon covered one whole third of the heavens.

On and up, on and upwards, swallowing star after star, constellation after constellation, and now it has reached the moon itself, and for a moment only its outer edge is a rim of golden light; then the moon too disappears, is buried in the black advancing ma.s.s. Almost at the same time the wind comes moaning over the plain, accompanied with driving snow. It increases every minute, and soon it is nearly impossible to walk against it.

It is almost a hurricane now; it moans no longer, it roars, shrieks, howls around us, and the snow freezes into cakes upon our garments, into ice on our faces, into icicles on our hair.

Sometimes we turn round and walk with our backs to the terrible blast.

Often we fall, but we help each other up, for we are hand in hand as brothers ever should be.

Jill whispers--it seems but a whisper though he is shouting--in my ear at last.