Part 15 (1/2)
”If we were to go on now,” he says, ”it wouldn't better us a bit. All we'd gain by it would be the league or so from this to the river. Once there, and attempting to travel up its bank, we'd find scores of little creeks that run into it, in full freshet, and have to swim our horses across them. That would only lose time, instead of gaining it. Now, by daybreak, they'll all be down again, when we can travel straight on without being delayed by so many stoppages. I tell you, Senor Cypriano, if we start now, it'll be only to find the old saying true, 'More haste, worse speed.'”
He to whom this speech is addressed perceives the application of the adage, and admitting it, yields the point.
”Besides,” adds the gaucho, by way of clinching his argument, ”we've got to spend part of the night somewhere, and have some sleep. If we keep on without that, it may end in our breaking dead down, which would be worse than being a little behind time. We all stand in need of rest now. Speaking for myself, I want it badly; and I'm sure so does Master Ludwig and you too, _senorito_! If we were to leave the cave, and seek for it anywhere outside, we'd find the ground soaking wet, and, like enough, every one of us get laid up with a spell of rheumatics. Here we'll be as snug as a _biscacha_ in its hole; and, I take it, will sleep undisturbed by the squalling of any more cats.”
As Cypriano makes no further opposition, it is decided that they remain in the cave till morning.
The little incident as above, with the conversation which accompanies it, does not take place immediately after the tiger had been disposed of; for they have eaten supper since. By good luck, some sticks were found in the cave, half-burnt f.a.ggots, the remains of a fire no doubt left by a party of Indian hunters, who had also spent a night there.
With these they were enabled to boil their kettle, and make a _mate_ of their favourite _yerba_ tea; while the ”knuckle” of mutton and some cakes of corn bread still left, needed no cooking. It is after all this was over, and they had been some time conversing on the many strange incidents which occurred to them throughout the day, that they became aware of the flood having fallen, and escape from their rock-bound prison possible. Then succeeded the discussion recorded.
At its termination, as nothing more can be done, and all feeling fatigued, to go to rest is naturally the next move. Their horses have already been attended to by the removal of the riding gear, while some rough gra.s.s found growing against the cliff, near the cave's entrance outside, has been cut and carried in to them.
A slight grooming given to the animals, and it but remains to make their own beds. This done, by simply spreading their _jergas_ and _caronillas_ along the flinty stalagmites, each having his own _recado_ for a pillow. Their ponchos, long since pulled apart, and the dust cuffed out of them, are to serve for what they really are--blankets; a purpose to which at night they are put by all gauchos and most Argentinos--as much as they are used during day time for cloak or greatcoat.
Each wrapping himself up in his own, all conversation ceases, and sleep is sought with closed eyes. This night it is found by them in a succession somewhat changed. As on that preceding, Ludwig is first asleep; but almost instantly after it is Gaspar, not Cypriano, who surrenders to the drowsy G.o.d; filling the hollow cavity with his snoring, loud as that often heard to proceed from the nostrils of a tapir. He well knows they are safe within that rock-bound chamber; besides that he is tired dead down with the day's exertion; hence his so soon becoming oblivious.
Cypriano is the last to yield. But he, too, at length gives way, and all is silent within the cavern, save the ”crump-crump” of the horses munching their coa.r.s.e provender, with now and then a hoof striking the hard rock. But louder than all is that raucous reverberation sent up by the slumbering gaucho.
CHAPTER THIRTY.
THE ”SACRED TOWN.”
While the pursuing party is peacefully reposing upon the stalagmites of the cavern, that pursued reaches its destination--the ”Sacred town” of the Tovas.
The _tolderia_, so named, stands upon a level plain, near the sh.o.r.e of a large and beautiful lake, whose numerous low-lying islets, covered with a thick growth of the _moriche_, have the appearance of palm-groves growing direct out of the water itself.
A belt of the same stately trees borders the lake all around, broken here and there by projecting headlands; while away over the adjacent _campo_, on the higher and drier ground, are seen palms of other and different species, both fan-leaved and pinnate, growing in copses or larger ”montes,” with evergreen shrubs and trees of deciduous foliage interspersed.
At some three or four hundred yards from the lake's edge, a high hill rises abruptly above the plain--the only elevation within many miles.
Thus isolated, it is visible from afar, and forms a conspicuous feature of the landscape; all the more remarkable on account of its singular shape, which is the frustrum of a cone. Though its sides are of steep pitch, they are thickly wooded to the summit; trees of large size standing upon its table-like top. But something more than trees stand there; the scaffolds upon which are laid the bodies of the Tovas dead; hundreds of which may be seen in all stages of decay, or shrivelled and desiccated by the dry winds and sun of the Chaco till they resemble Egyptian mummies. For it is the ”Cemetery Hill,” a spot hallowed in the hearts of these Indians, and so giving the t.i.tle of ”Sacred” to this particular place, as the town adjacent to it. The latter is situated just under the hill, between its base and the sh.o.r.e of the lake. No grand city, as might be supposed from such a high-sounding name, but simply a collection of palm and bamboo _toldos_, or huts, scattered about without any design or order; each owner having been left free to select the site of his frail tenement, since among the Tovas munic.i.p.al regulations are of the simplest and most primitive character. True, some dwellings, grander and more pretentious than the common, are grouped around an open s.p.a.ce; in the centre of which is one much larger than any of the others, its dimensions equalling a dozen of them. This is not a dwelling, however, but the _Malocca_, or House of Parliament.
Perhaps, with greater propriety, it might be called ”Congress Chamber,”
since, as already hinted at, the polity of the Tovas tribe is rather republican than monarchical.
Strange, as sad, that in this republic of redskins, and so-called savages, should exist the same political contradiction as among some other republican communities, having the name of civilised. For although themselves individually free, the Tovas Indians do not believe in the doctrine that all men should be so; or, at all events, they do not act up to it. Instead, their practice is the very opposite, as shown by their keeping numbers of slaves. Of these they have hundreds, most of them being Indians of other tribes, their enemies, whom they have made captive in battle. But to the Tovas master it signifies little what be the colour of his bondman's skin, whether white or red; and many of the former, women as well as men, may be seen doing drudgery in this same Sacred town--its hewers of wood and drawers of water.
These are also captives, the spoil of predatory incursions across the Salado into the settlements of Santiago, Salto, and Tuc.u.man.
Most of these slaves, employed in the care of cattle, live apart from their masters, in a sort of suburb, where the dwellings are of a less permanent character than the ordinary _toldos_, besides being differently constructed. They more resemble the tents, or wigwams, of the North-American Indians; being simply a number of poles set in a circle, and tied together at the tops; the hides of horses covering them, instead of the buffalo skins which serve a similar purpose on the northern prairies.
It may seem strange that captives with white skins, thus left unguarded, do not make their escape. But no; those so kept do not even seek or desire it. Long in captivity, they have become ”Indianised,” lost all aspirations for liberty, and grown contented with their lot; for the Tovas are not hard taskmasters.
On the night of that same day, when the _tormenta_ overtook them, Aguara and his party approach the Sacred town, which is about twenty miles from the edge of the _salitral_, where the trail parts from the latter, going westward. The plain between is no more of saline or sterile character; but, as on the other side, showing a luxuriant vegetation, with the same picturesque disposal of palm-groves and other tropical trees.
The hour is late--nigh to midnight--as the captive train pa.s.ses under the shadow of the Cemetery Hill, making round to where the _tolderia_ stands; for both lake and town are on the west side of the hill.
Well may the young cacique feel something of fear, his face showing it, as he glances up to that elevated spot where he so late laid the corpse of his father. Were that father living, he, the son, would not be pa.s.sing there with the daughter of Ludwig Halberger as his captive.
Even as it is, he can fancy the spirit of the deceased cacique hovering over the hill, and looking frowningly, reproachfully, down upon him!