As we galloped along we kept a look-out over the plain for any hors.e.m.e.n who might appear.

"I only wish two or three would come!" cried Gerald. "We would soon make the survivors turn to the right-about; for I am pretty sure we should kill a couple at least."

"I hope that we shall not have anything of the sort to do," I answered.

"I am perfectly ready to fight, when necessary, in a right cause, such as I believe that to be in which our friends are engaged; but it is dreadful to contemplate killing people unless stern necessity compels us. Warfare is terrible work at the best, and the butcheries of which I have heard in this country show too well what men are capable of when their pa.s.sions are excited. For my part, though I have seen but little of fighting as yet, I wish that peace were established."

"Oh, you wouldn't do for a guerilla!" exclaimed Gerald, in a somewhat contemptuous tone.

"I shall not fight with less determination because I wish for peace," I continued, not minding him. "The only way to secure it is to beat our enemies; and that I will do my best to accomplish, when I have the opportunity."

"That I am sure you will!" exclaimed Gerald, sorry for his remark; for though impulsive, and in the habit of blurting out anything that came uppermost, he was ever ready to acknowledge himself in the wrong.

We galloped on for some leagues, stopping occasionally to give our horses breath, and then reached the borders of the lake I spoke of-- which extended for some distance parallel with the foot of the mountains, and was fed by several streams which flowed from them. It was also connected, by another stream, with the smaller lake below our father's house. Out of it likewise flowed a river of some size towards the east.

We had forded two of these smaller streams without difficulty, when we came to a wider and deeper one.

"We shall have to swim for a little distance," said Gerald; "but our horses will perhaps carry us over on their backs. However, if we find that our weight is too much for them, we must slip off; only we must remember to hold on tight by their manes, and keep at their shoulders, to avoid the unpleasant pats they might otherwise give us with their fore hoofs. And, by-the-by, it will be as well, while we are on their backs, to keep our feet as high up as we can, lest an alligator should take a fancy to our toes; though, as the brutes are of no great size, we haven't much to fear from them."

I thought Gerald was joking; but he was perfectly in earnest, though the danger we were to run did not in the slightest degree trouble him.

I followed his advice when, after wading a short distance, my horse began to swim. Shortly afterwards, as its body was completely immersed, I slipped off its back, taking care to hold on to its mane, near the crupper, with one hand, while I struck out with the other. Gerald himself, being so much lighter, stuck on, and guiding his horse to a shelving part of the bank, regained the firm ground.

I was still in the water, when, looking up the stream, he shouted out to me,--"Make haste, make haste, Barry! for here comes an ugly-looking customer it would be as well not to encounter in the water."

As may be supposed, I was making all the haste I could; for I had no fancy to remain in the river longer than necessary, with the possibility of being seized by an alligator, even though it might be one not large enough to swallow me at a gulp. I saw that Gerald was more excited than usual: as he held his horse's bridle, he kept stamping and moving about in his eagerness. I exerted myself to the utmost, and at length had the satisfaction of finding my horse's feet touch the sh.o.r.e; when I immediately scrambled on its back and rode up the bank.

"Look there!" cried Gerald; "that brute would be a more unpleasant opponent than even a big alligator."

He pointed, as he spoke, to a huge serpent--which, I concluded, was a boa-constrictor--coiled round the broken stem of a palm-tree, and, with head erect, floating leisurely down the river.

"I only wish it would come nearer!" exclaimed Gerald. "I think I could manage to hit it and blow its head off."

He fired as he spoke, but missed; and the serpent, turning its head, gave a hiss at us, though it did not attempt to quit its raft. From the way it moved its tail, which served as a rudder, I believe that it could easily have guided itself to the sh.o.r.e; and as it was big enough to have crushed not only one of us, but either of our horses, in its powerful folds, I felt especially anxious to avoid it.

Gerald quickly reloaded his weapon. "Fire, Barry--fire!" he cried out; "and if you miss, I'll have another shot."

As the snake, though it was not likely to attack us, might injure other people or destroy some cattle, I took aim and fired; but I merely grazed its head, for it was a small mark to hit with a carbine. The creature then gave a hiss, as if it did not like such treatment, and whisking its tail urged its float towards the bank.

"I say, Barry, the brute's coming towards us," cried Gerald. "I'll have one more shot; and if I miss we'd better gallop off, for these snakes move with fearful rapidity through the gra.s.s, and this one might catch hold of us in a way we shouldn't like."

I was glad to find that Gerald was as cautious as he was brave; and considering his advice good, I agreed to take to flight rather than risk an encounter with the serpent on dry land. I might transfix it with my lance, as Saint George did the dragon, but I had no wish to engage in combat with the terrible beast.

While I was reloading my carbine Gerald fired. "Missed again!" he shouted; "now let's gallop for it,--the brute's in earnest, and will have us if he can!"

We turned our horses' heads, and digging our spurs into their flanks, left the serpent, should it land, to search for us in vain.

After going some distance we pulled rein and looked back, but as we could nowhere see it, we concluded that, not discovering us on the sh.o.r.e, it had continued its voyage to wherever it was bound.

"I don't care for human foes, or for any wild animals, but these snakes are my detestation," said Gerald. "The boa and anaconda, and the big tree-snake, are bad enough; but there are others which, on account of their bite, are still worse. There is one called the aques, seldom more than eight or ten feet long, which is the most savage creature imaginable; and its fangs are so deadly that a person seldom lives more than a few hours after being bitten. Not only will the creature spring out upon a pa.s.ser-by, but it will follow him to a considerable distance, and then fly at his throat and kill him,--unless he has a long stick to defend himself. The Indians and blacks are, with good reason, mortally afraid of the aques. I have often seen them, but never had a fight with one; though I shouldn't care about it, provided I was armed with a long, tough stick."

I confessed that I should not wish to make the near acquaintance of so terrible a reptile; but, young as he was, Gerald had shot a jaguar and a puma (on each occasion while quite alone), and several smaller wild animals--such as black bears, boars, peccaries, and tiger-cats. He had numerous trophies of his skill to exhibit. No wonder that Tim was proud of him. He had greatly the advantage of me as a sportsman; but, though our father and mother had done their best to instruct him, he was sadly behind-hand in general knowledge and book-learning, such as I had had the opportunity of gaining at school. Notwithstanding this, we got on very well together; and there was no fear, I hoped, of our ever falling out. He looked up to me as superior to him in many points, and I regarded him with admiration for his courage and hardihood and excellent temper.

We had proceeded for some way along the banks of the lake, when we caught sight of a boat in the distance, apparently crossing to reach a point ahead of us. We could distinguish four people in the boat, which came on rather slowly. This was accounted for when we made out several horses swimming in the water astern. The lake was bordered by a fringe of reeds, which in some places grew some distance into the water, over which water-fowl of various species winged their flight,--while we observed several pink-tinted flamingoes stalking with long legs in the shallows: and as we were watching the boat, a large flight of these beautiful birds came swooping along through the air.

Being curious to know who was in the boat, we rode slowly on towards the landing-place, from whence, Gerald told me, the road led past the end of the lake to our house. As we reached the spot the boat approached; and looking at the only pa.s.senger it contained, I at once recognised the countenance of Dr Stutterheim, while his canine friend Jumbo was standing in the bow of the boat. "What, doctor! is that you?" I shouted out.

"Ah, my young friend, I am very glad to see you," he exclaimed, standing up and waving his hand. "I am coming to take advantage of your invitation. But I will tell you all about it when I get on sh.o.r.e."

In another minute the boat touched the bank; when the doctor, leaping on dry ground, dragged two of his horses out of the water by the long reins which secured them--a black man, whom I found to be his attendant, leading the third. Shaking hands warmly with the doctor, I introduced Gerald, while Jumbo acknowledged me as an acquaintance by leaping up and energetically whisking his tail. The boatmen then a.s.sisted in loading the baggage-animals with several chests the doctor had brought; and having paid the men, he dismissed them, and mounted his horse.

"Now, Heliogabalus, follow me; and see that none of the baggage falls off, you black villain," said the doctor.

The black, having examined the thongs which secured the baggage, climbed up on the back of one of the animals, and followed us as we rode on.

"I sometimes call him Heliogabalus," said the doctor; "but he is generally known by the name of Gab, which is a more convenient appellation for ordinary use. I picked him up on the road to Santa Fe.

I have no great faith in his honesty; but as I wanted an attendant, I engaged him--though I strongly suspect he is a runaway, and very likely may be reclaimed by his owner."

"I don't admire him for his beauty," I answered. "Now tell me, doctor, to what happy circ.u.mstance are we indebted for the pleasure of seeing you so soon?"

"Simply because I found it dangerous to remain longer in Santa Fe," he answered. "I got no practice,--or rather no payment from my patients; and I thought it very probable that I should be led out and shot by the Spaniards on suspicion of being a Liberal, as was the case with many unfortunate people while I was there. I determined, therefore, to continue my journey through the country, and gain a further knowledge of its natural history and productions,--keeping, if possible, out of the way of the combatants. I should have preferred travelling in more peaceable times; but, as life is short, I might not have an opportunity were I to defer my travels till the Spaniards are driven out of the country and peace is restored."

Of course I told him that, under any circ.u.mstances, we were very glad to see him; and it at once occurred to me, that should our captive Indian be still alive, the doctor might by his superior skill a.s.sist to cure him.

"I have a grand remedy, which, if he has still some breath in his body, is almost sure to succeed," he answered.

"What is it?" I asked.

"To let nature take its course," he replied. "Perhaps your friends have been doctoring him overmuch; but I shall judge when I see him."

It was late when we reached our house, and my father, to whom I had before described the doctor, gave him a hearty welcome.

I was thankful to hear that the Indian was still alive, though in a very weak state; so the doctor was at once taken in to see him. Having examined his wound and felt his pulse, he observed,--"I see all about it. We will give him stimulants, which will set the machine agoing.

You have been afraid of fever, and have kept him too low. I will answer for it that in a few days he will be ready to perform his war-dance and flourish his scalping-knife with as much energy as ever."

Norah, who heard this remark, a.s.sured the doctor that she believed his patient had become perfectly civilised, mild, and gentle.

"Oh yes, while he is in this house and in your presence, young lady; but let him get back to his old haunts among his savage companions, and he will cut throats with as much zest as ever," replied the doctor.

At the supper-table my father inquired what news the doctor brought from Bogota.

"Judging from the cruelties inflicted on their prisoners, the Spaniards know that they are losing ground," he answered. "It is bad enough when they shoot men taken in arms; but the day before I left I witnessed a sight which made my blood boil with indignation--and I am not apt to feel such sensations, I a.s.sure you. A young lady, it appears, residing in the city, was accused of favouring the patriot cause, and of giving information to its leaders--of being a spy, in fact. A letter she had written to Bolivar was stopped, and the bearer confessed that it had been intrusted to him to deliver, by her. She was immediately arrested and brought before the judge. She was young and beautiful--very beautiful indeed, I a.s.sure you--and I should have thought that her appearance alone would have softened the heart of the greatest tyrant.

I expected to hear her plead her innocence with tears in her eyes, imploring for mercy; but instead, she stood calm and unmoved, and boldly acknowledged herself a patriot, and ready to die, if required, so that she might know her beloved country would gain its freedom. Not one among those collected at the trial dared to utter a word in her favour: she was condemned to die, and was forthwith led out to undergo the sentence just p.r.o.nounced. She bowed her head proudly, not a limb trembling, not a tear dropping from her eye. It was granted her, as a favour, that she should be shot, on account of her rank and the high estimation in which she was held. A priest was sent for; but she refused his services, observing that she had counted the cost, and had made full preparation for the fate which awaited her should she be discovered--her only regret being that she could no longer serve the cause in which she gloried. 'Do you leave no one behind you who will mourn your loss?' asked her military judge, with cruel irony in his tone; for it was known that she was engaged to marry a young and handsome colonel of the Republican army."

"Who was she?" I exclaimed eagerly, my heart sinking as I heard the doctor say this; "what was her name?"

"Donna Paola Salabriata," he answered. "Without being allowed to take a last farewell of her friends, or to communicate with any one, she was led out into the great square, followed by a party of soldiers,"

continued the doctor, not observing my agitation. "She entreated as a favour that her eyes might not be bound; and facing her executioners, she stood with her arms crossed on her fair bosom, without for a moment exhibiting the slightest fear. I could not have believed that any woman would have shown courage so undaunted, and yet be so gentle and modest in all her actions. Stoical and indifferent as I am, I could scarcely refrain from shouting 'To the rescue!' and rushing forward to preserve her; but I remembered in time that I should certainly be shot did I make the attempt. And so, rooted to the spot, and feeling as if I were turning into stone, I waited till the fatal word should be given. Could any being in the form of man, as he beheld that young creature in all her maiden beauty, utter that word? Could those swarthy soldiers, savage as they looked, pull a trigger to deprive her of life? Yes! and the officer--who perhaps was a husband, perhaps a father--in a loud voice, which sounded to me like the shriek of a demon, gave the order to fire. Then came the rattle of musketry and a cloud of smoke; and the fair young girl, pierced by a dozen wounds, sank lifeless on the ground.

The officer advanced to ascertain that she was dead, followed by the soldiers, to plunge their bayonets into her had she shown any signs of life. But death had been merciful; and the still lovely corpse--for not a shot had struck her countenance--was placed on a bier, and carried away for interment."