Part 24 (1/2)

Fortunately for us, moreover, we were not in their line of march, and there lay between us and them a line of hot springs and smoking sulphur mounds which they were not likely to pa.s.s.

The procession had been going on about half an hour when, happening to cast my eye skyward, I saw that the moon had disappeared; overhead hung a heavy ma.s.s of cloud, the middle of it reddened by the reflection from the fire to the color of blood, while the outer edges were as black as ink. It was almost as grand a spectacle as the burning forest itself.

”We are going to have rain,” said Carmen.

”I hope it will rain in bucketfuls,” was my answer, for I had drunk nothing since we left San Felipe, and the run, together with the high temperature and the heat of the fire, had given me an intolerable thirst.

I spoke with difficulty, my swollen tongue clove to the roof of my mouth, and I would gladly have given ten years of my life for one gla.s.s of cold water.

Carmen, whose sufferings were as great as my own, echoed my hope. And it was not long in being gratified, for even as we gazed upward a flash of lightning split the clouds asunder; peal of thunder followed on peal, the rain came down not in drops nor bucketfuls but in sheets, and with weight and force sufficient to beat a child or a weakling to the earth, It was a veritable G.o.dsend; we caught the beautiful cool water in our hands and drank our fill.

In less than an hour not a trace of the fire could be seen--nor anything else. The darkness had become so dense that we feared to move lest we might perchance step into one of the boiling springs, fall into the jaws of a jaguar, or set foot on a poisonous snake. So we stayed where we were, whiles lying on the flooded ground, whiles standing up or walking a few paces in the rain, which continued to fall until the rising of the sun, when it ceased as suddenly as it had begun.

The moor had been turned into a smoking swamp, with a blackened forest on one side and a wall of living green on the other. The wild animals had vanished.

”Let us go!” said Carmen.

When we reached the trees we took off our clothes a second time, hung them on a branch, and sat in the sun till they dried.

”I suppose it is no use thinking about breakfast till we get to a house or the camp, wherever that may be?” I observed, as we resumed our journey.

”Well, I don't know. What do you say about a cup of milk to begin with?”

”There is nothing I should like better--to begin with--but where is the cow?”

”There!” pointing to a fine tree with oblong leaves.

”That!”

”Yes, that is the _palo de vaca_ (cow-tree), and as you shall presently see, it will give us a very good breakfast, though we may get nothing else. But we shall want cups. Ah, there is a calabash-tree! Lend me your knife a minute. _Gracias!_”

And with that Carmen went to the tree, from which he cut a large pear-shaped fruit. This, by slicing off the top and scooping out the pulp he converted into a large bowl. The next thing was to make a gash in the _palo de vaca_, whereupon there flowed from the wound a thick milky fluid which we caught in the bowl and drank. The taste was agreeable and the result satisfactory, for, though a beefsteak would have been more acceptable, the drink stayed our hunger for the time and helped us on our way.

The trail was easily found. For a considerable distance it ran between a double row of magnificent mimosa-trees which met overhead at a height of fully one hundred and fifty feet, making a glorious canopy of green leaves and rustling branches. The rain had cooled the air and laid the dust, and but for the danger we were in (greater than we suspected) and the necessity we were under of being continually on the alert, we should have had a most enjoyable walk. Late in the afternoon we pa.s.sed a hut and a maize-field, the first sign of cultivation we had seen since leaving the _azuferales_, and ascertained our bearings from an old peon who was swinging in a gra.s.s hammock and smoking a cigar. San Felipe was about two leagues away, and he strongly advised us not to follow a certain trail, which he described, lest haply we might fall in with Mejia's caballeros, some of whom he had himself seen within the hour a little lower down the valley.

This was good news, and we went on in high spirits.

”Didn't I tell you so?” said Carmen, complacently. ”I knew Mejia would not be far off. He is like one of your English bull-dogs. He never knows when he is beaten.”

After a while the country became more open, with here and there patches of cultivation; huts were more frequent and we met several groups of peons who, however, eyed us so suspiciously that we thought it inexpedient to ask them any questions.

About an hour before sunset we perceived in the near distance a solitary horseman; but as his face was turned the other way he did not see us.

”He looks like one of our fellows,” observed Carmen, after scanning him closely. ”All the same, he may not be. Let us slip behind this acacia-bush and watch his movements.”

The man himself seemed to be watching. After a short halt, he rode away and returned, but whether halting or moving he was always on the lookout, and as might appear, keenly expectant.

At length he came our way.

”I do believe--_Por Dios_ it is--Guido Pasto, my own man!” and Carmen, greatly excited, rushed from his hiding-place shouting, ”Guido!” at the top of his voice.