Part 7 (1/2)

”Oh, indeed!” murmured the negro; ”what signifies that? one bullet for four tigers!”

Without vouchsafing any reply to this last speech, the Indian advanced a little farther along the bank, and then came to a pause. A large tree grew upon the edge of the stream, its branches extending outwards. Into this he climbed; and then stretching out his arms over the water, he commenced chaunting a lugubrious measure--a species of Indian invocation, of which Clara could hear the words, but without in the least comprehending their signification.

There was something in the wild melody of the Indian's voice to cause his companion a certain mysterious dread; and this was increased by additional notes of an equally mournful character that came pealing up the ravine, mingling with the hoa.r.s.e roaring of the cascade. It was the scream of the jaguar; though it actually appeared as if some demon was answering to the invocations of the Indian. The lugubrious chaunt of the pagan, and the coincident scream of the tiger, formed a kind of infernal accompaniment, well calculated to strike awe into the mind of one of Clara's superst.i.tious race; and as he stood upon the bank he fancied he saw fiery eyes glaring upon him through the leaves, and the Siren with the dishevelled hair rising above the surface of the water.

A double chill pa.s.sed through his black skin, from the soles of his feet to the roots of his kinky hair.

At this moment Costal returned to him.

”Are you ready?” inquired the Indian.

”For what?”

”To accompany me to the cascade--there to invoke the Siren, and ask if she may be seen.”

”What! down there, where the tigers are roaring?”

”Oh, a fig for them! Remember, Clara, it is gold _we_ seek; and, believe me, if fortunate in our application, the Siren will tell us where it is to be found. Gold in ma.s.ses!”

”Enough!” cried Clara, overcome by the rich prospect. ”I am with you,”

continued he--”lead on! From this hour I am the slave of the Siren who can show us the _placers_ of gold!”

The Indian took up his hat and carbine, both of which he had laid aside while chaunting his invocation; and, throwing the gun over his shoulder, started down stream. Clara followed close at his heels--his spirit alternately possessed with cupidity and fear.

As they advanced, the banks rose higher above the surface of the stream, and the channel became the bottom of a deep, narrow ravine, where the water rushed foaming among rocks. The great trees growing on each side stretched towards one another, until their branches interlocked, forming a dark sombre tunnel underneath. At the lower end of this, the stream, once more bursting forth into light, leaped vertically at one bound through a s.p.a.ce of two hundred feet sheer, falling into the bottom of a deep gorge, with a noise louder than the roar of the mighty ocean.

Just where the foaming flood broke over the crest of the rocks, grew two enormous cypresses of the kind known to the Mexicans as _ahuehuetes_, or ”lords of the water.” They stood on opposite sides of the stream, with their long arms extended towards each other. Thickly loaded with llianas, and profusely festooned with the silvery Spanish moss, which, drooping downwards, every now and then dipped into the foaming arch of the cascade, these two great trees looked like the ancient genii of the waters.

At this point the two men made a halt. Although they were now very near to the place where the jaguars were supposed to be, Clara had become more regardless of the danger. His fear, both of wild beasts and evil spirits, had yielded to his thirst for gold, which had been gradually growing stronger.

”Now, Clara!” said Costal, turning a severe look upon his comrade; ”listen attentively to the instructions I am about to give you. If the Siren should appear to you, and you should exhibit, either by look or gesture, the slightest symptoms of fear, you are a lost man!”

”All right!” replied the negro. ”The hope of being shown a mine of gold gives me courage to risk even my neck in a halter, if need be. Never fear, Costal. Speak on--I am ready to listen.”

As the negro p.r.o.nounced these words, his countenance to all appearance expressed as much firmness as that of Costal himself. The Indian, thus a.s.sured, seated himself upon the very edge of the precipice, overlooking the gorge into which the waters were precipitated, while Clara, without invitation, sat down by his side.

CHAPTER TEN.

STRAYED FROM THE TRACK.

The ravine, below the spot where the Indian and negro had seated themselves, was covered with a luxuriant vegetation--plants and trees of tropical growth so thickly standing over the ground that the rays of the sun could not have penetrated through the umbrageous foliage.

Notwithstanding this abundance of vegetation, if the two gold-seekers had not been so absorbed in their designs, they might have seen below them the figure of a man, who was standing at the bottom of the cascade, directly under their feet.

This man, who had just arrived on the spot, and who appeared to be regarding the waterfall with looks of curiosity and admiration, was no other than Rafael Tres-Villas, Captain of the Queen's Dragoons.

It is necessary to explain how Don Rafael had come to be found in this wild spot, altogether away from the path which he should have followed to the hacienda Las Palmas. Accident, not design, had conducted him to the bottom of the cascade.

On parting from the student of theology, who, recalling the cla.s.sic scenes of his Odyssey, had mistaken him for a man-eater--a Lestrygon-- the dragoon captain, without searching any longer for an explanation of the odd circ.u.mstances observed along the way, at once stretched his horse into a gallop. The animal required no propulsion of the spur.