Part 17 (1/2)
After the first salutations, both canoes were run to the bank of the stream, and when they had all landed, Pedro presented his friend to Lawrence, who shook hands with him in the English fas.h.i.+on.
”You have not mentioned your friend's name,” said Lawrence.
”His name!” replied Pedro, with a laugh, ”well, it is almost unp.r.o.nounceable. Perhaps you had better call him by the name he goes by among his friends--Spotted Tiger, or, more briefly--Tiger.”
”Tell Spotted Tiger, then,” said Lawrence, ”that I am happy to make his acquaintance.”
When the guide had translated this, and the Indian had returned a complimentary rejoinder, they continued to converse in the Indian tongue with much animation, and, on the part of Spotted Tiger, with some excitement. Of course Lawrence understood nothing, but he continued to watch the expressive features of the savage with interest, and observed, when their glances showed they were talking of Manuela, that Tiger first raised his eyebrows in surprise, and then smiled peculiarly.
”Strange,” thought Lawrence, ”what can he mean by that? Perhaps he knows the chief, her father, but why look surprised and smile on that account? I wish Pedro was not so secretive. However, it's his business, not mine!”
Consoling himself with this philosophic thought, Lawrence re-embarked with his friends, and, accompanied by Tiger, proceeded down stream till they came to a beautiful spot where the banks widened out into a small lake or pond. On its sh.o.r.es, under the cool shade of many trees, stood the hut of the savage.
The scenery here was more than usually beautiful, being diversified not only in form, but in its wealth and variety of trees, and twining parasites and graceful ferns, with, in one place, groves of tall trees covered with b.a.l.l.s of wild cotton, as large as an orange, and, elsewhere, inextricable entanglements of gorgeously flowering creepers, such as the most vivid imagination would fail to invent or conceive.
Behind one part of the scene the setting sun shone with intense light, turning all into dark forms, while in other parts the slanting rays fell upon ma.s.ses of rich foliage, and intensified its colour.
In front of the hut a handsome Indian woman stood awaiting the arrival of her husband. She held in her arms a naked little ball of whitey-brown fat, which represented the youngest Tiger-cub of the family. Other cubs, less whitey, and more brown, romped around, while up in the trees several remembrancers of Quashy's great-great-grandmother sat grinning with delight, if not indignation, at the human beings below.
After being hospitably entertained by the Indian with fish, alligator soup, roast parrot, and young monkey, the party a.s.sembled round a fire, kindled outside the hut more for the purpose of scaring away wild beasts than cooking, though the little Tiger-cubs used it for the latter purpose.
Then Pedro said to Lawrence--
”Now, Senhor Armstrong, I am going to ask you to exercise a little patience at this point in our journey. The business I have in hand requires that I should leave you for two or three days. I fully expect to be back by the end of that time, and meanwhile I leave you and Quashy and Manuela in good company, for my friend Spotted Tiger is true as steel, though he _is_ an Indian, and will perhaps show you a little sport to prevent your wearying.”
”Very good, Pedro. I am quite willing to wait,” said Lawrence. ”You know I am not pressed for time at present. I shall be very glad to remain and see what is to be seen here, and learn Spanish from Manuela.”
”Or teach her Angleesh,” suggested the girl, bashfully.
”Certainly. Whichever pleases you best, Manuela,” returned Lawrence.
”But s'pose,” said Quashy, with a look of awful solemnity at Pedro--”s'pose you nebber comes back at all! S'pose you gits drownded, or killed by a tiger, or shot by a Injin. What den?”
”Suppose,” retorted the guide, ”that an earthquake should swallow up South America, or that the world should catch fire--what then?”
”Why den, we no care a b.u.t.tin for not'ing arter _dat_,” replied the negro, promptly, ”but if you don' return, we nebber reach Buenos Ayres.”
”Never fear, Quashy. If I don't return, Spotted Tiger will guide you safely there.”
That night Pedro and his friend left the hut in a canoe, lighted by a brilliant moon. Before morning the latter returned alone.
Meanwhile Lawrence had slung Manuela's hammock between two trees, with a fire on either side, yet screened from the chief camp-fire by a thick bush, so that though close at hand, and under his protection, she occupied, as it were, a separate chamber of her own. His own hammock and that of Quashy--for they all used hammocks--were hung side by side a little nearer to the large fire.
Mr and Mrs Tiger, with all the little Tigers, finding their hut rather warm, came outside, and also made their beds beside their visitors.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
DEALS WITH SPOTTED TIGER'S HOME, AND A HUNTING EXPEDITION.
In spite of howling jaguars, and snarling pumas, and buzzing mosquitoes, and the whole host of nocturnal abominations peculiar to those regions, our weary travellers lay peacefully in their hammocks, and slept like humming-tops. In regard to Quashy, we might more appropriately say like a buzzing-top.
Once or twice during the night Quashy rose to replenish the fires, for the jaguars kept up a concert that rendered attention to this protection advisable; but he did it with half-closed eyes, and a sort of semi-wakefulness which changed into profound repose the instant he tumbled back into his hammock. Lawrence, not being so well accustomed to the situation, lay awake a short time at first, having his loaded pistols under his pillow; but, as we have said, he soon slumbered, and it is probable that all the jaguars, pumas, peccaries, tapirs, alligators, and wild cats in that district might have walked in procession under his hammock without disturbing him in the least, had they been so minded. As for Manuela, with that quiet indifference to mere prospective danger that usually characterises her race, she laid her head on her tiger-skin pillow, and slept the sleep of innocence-- having absolute faith, no doubt, in the vigilance and care of her protectors.