[Illustration: The Figure Springs into the Air--See page 129. ]

[Illustration: THE BOYS OWN BOOKSHELF]

OUR HOME IN THE SILVER WEST

A Story of Struggle and Adventure

BY

GORDON STABLES, C. M. , M. D. , R. N. 

AUTHOR OF 'THE CRUISE OF THE SNOWBIRD, ' 'WILD ADVENTURES ROUND THE POLE, 'ETC. , ETC. 

THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY

56, Paternoster Row; 65, St. Paul's Churchyard and 164 Piccadilly

Richard Clay and Sons, Limited, London and Bungay. 

CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER PAGE I. The Highland Feud. 11 II. Our Boyhood's Life. 23 III. A Terrible Ride. 30 IV. The Ring and the Book. 44 V. A New Home in the West. 54 VI. The Promised Land at Last. 64 VII. On Shore at Rio. 77 VIII. Moncrieff Relates His Experiences. 86 IX. Shopping and Shooting. 96 X. A Journey That Seems Like a Dream. 106 XI. The Tragedy at the Fonda. 115 XII. Attack by Pampa Indians. 125 XIII. The Flight and the Chase. 134 XIV. Life on an Argentine Estancia. 146 XV. We Build our House and Lay Out Gardens. 155 XVI. Summer in the Silver West. 165 XVII. The Earthquake. 175 XVIII. Our Hunting Expedition. 185 XIX. In the Wilderness. 197 XX. The Mountain Crusoe. 209 XXI. Wild Adventures on Prairie and Pampas. 221 XXII. Adventure With a Tiger. 231 XXIII. A Ride for Life. 244 XXIV. The Attack on the Estancia. 255 XXV. The Last Assault. 266 XXV Farewell to the Silver West. 279

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

 PAGEThe Figure Springs into the Air FrontispieceOrla thrusts his Muzzle into my Hand 10Ray lay Stark and Stiff 18'Look! He is Over!' 33He pointed his Gun at me 41'I'll teach ye!' 74Fairly Noosed 99'Ye can Claw the Pat' 138Comical in the Extreme 195Tries to steady himself to catch the Lasso 203Interview with the Orang-outang 214On the same Limb of the Tree 236The Indians advanced with a Wild Shout 268

[Illustration: Orla thrusts his Muzzle into my Hand]

OUR HOME IN THE SILVER WEST

CHAPTER I. 

THE HIGHLAND FEUD. 

Why should I, Murdoch M'Crimman of Coila, be condemned for a period ofindefinite length to the drudgery of the desk's dull wood? That is thequestion I have just been asking myself. Am I emulous of the honour andglory that, they say, float halo-like round the brow of the author? Have Ithe desire to awake and find myself famous? The fame, alas! that authorschase is but too often an _ignis fatuus_. No; honour like theirs I cravenot, such toil is not incumbent on me. Genius in a garret! To some thewords may sound romantic enough, but--ah me!--the position seems a sadone. Genius munching bread and cheese in a lonely attic, with nothingbetwixt the said genius and the sky and the cats but rafters and tiles! Ishudder to think of it. If my will were omnipotent, Genius should nevershiver beneath the tiles, never languish in an attic. Genius should beclothed in purple and fine linen, Genius should---- 'Yes, aunt, come in;I'm not very busy yet. '

My aunt sails into my beautiful room in the eastern tower of CastleCoila. 

'I was afraid, ' she says, almost solemnly, 'I might be disturbing yourmeditations. Do I find you really at work?'

'I've hardly arrived at that point yet, dear aunt. Indeed, if the truthwill not displease you, I greatly fear serious concentration is not verymuch in my line. But as you desire me to write our strange story, and asmother also thinks the duty devolves on me, behold me seated at my tablein this charming turret chamber, which owes its all of comfort to yourmost excellent taste, auntie mine. '

As I speak I look around me. The evening sunshine is streaming into myroom, which occupies the whole of one story of the tower. Glance where Iplease, nothing is here that fails to delight the eye. The carpet beneathmy feet is soft as moss, the tall mullioned windows are bedraped with therichest curtains. Pictures and mirrors hang here and there, and seem partand parcel of the place. So does that dark lofty oak bookcase, the greatharp in the west corner, the violin that leans against it, the_jardinière_, the works of art, the arms from every land--the shields, theclaymores, the spears and helmets, everything is in keeping. This is mygarret. If I want to meditate, I have but to draw aside a curtain inyonder nook, and lo! a little baize-covered door slides aside and admitsme to one of the tower-turrets, a tiny room in which fairies might live, with a window on each side giving glimpses of landscape--and landscapeunsurpassed for beauty in all broad Scotland. 

But it was by the main doorway of my chamber that auntie entered, drawingaside the curtains and pausing a moment till she should receive mycheering invitation. And this door leads on to the roof, and this roofitself is a sight to see. Loftily domed over with glass, it is at once aconservatory, a vinery, and tropical aviary. Room here for trees even, forminiature palms, while birds of the rarest plumage flit silently frombough to bough among the oranges, or lisp out the sweet lilts that havedescended to them from sires that sang in foreign lands. Yonder afountain plays and casts its spray over the most lovely feathery ferns. The roof is very spacious, and the conservatory occupies the greater partof it, leaving room outside, however, for a delightful promenade. Aftersunset coloured lamps are often lit here, and the place then looks evenmore lovely than before. All this, I need hardly say, was my aunt'sdoing. 

I wave my hand, and the lady sinks half languidly into a fauteuil. 

'And so, ' I say, laughingly, 'you have come to visit Genius in hisgarret. '

My aunt smiles too, but I can see it is only out of politeness. 

I throw down my pen; I leave my chair and seat myself on the bearskinbeside the ample fireplace and begin toying with Orla, my deerhound. 

'Aunt, play and sing a little; it will inspire me. '

She needs no second bidding. She bends over the great harp and lightlytouches a few chords. 

'What shall I play or sing?'

'Play and sing as you feel, aunt. '

'I feel thus, ' my aunt says, and her fingers fly over the strings, bringing forth music so inspiriting and wild that as I listen, entranced, some words of Ossian come rushing into my memory:

'The moon rose in the East. Fingal returned in the gleam of his arms. Thejoy of his youth was great, their souls settled as a sea from a storm. Ullin raised the song of gladness. The hills of Inistore rejoiced. Theflame of the oak arose, and the tales of heroes were told. '

Aunt is not young, but she looks very noble now--looks the veryincarnation of the music that fills the room. In it I can hear thebattle-cry of heroes, the wild slogan of clan after clan rushing to thefight, the clang of claymore on shield, the shout of victory, the wail forthe dead. There are tears in my eyes as the music ceases, and my auntturns once more towards me. 

'Aunt, your music has made me ashamed of myself. Before you came Irecoiled from the task you had set before me; I longed to be out and away, marching over the moors gun in hand and dogs ahead. Now I--I--yes, aunt, this music inspires me. '

Aunt rises as I speak, and together we leave the turret chamber, and, passing through the great conservatory, we reach the promenade. We lean onthe battlement, long since dismantled, and gaze beneath us. Close to thecastle walls below is a well-kept lawn trending downwards with slightincline to meet the loch which laps over its borders. This loch, or lake, stretches for miles and miles on every side, bounded here and there bybare, black, beetling cliffs, and in other places

 'O'erhung by wild woods thickening green, a very cloudland of foliage. The easternmost horizon of this lake is achain of rugged mountains, one glance at which would tell you the seasonwas autumn, for they are crimsoned over with blooming heather. The seasonis autumn, and the time is sunset; the shadow of the great tower fallsdarkling far over the loch, and already crimson streaks of cloud areranged along the hill-tops. So silent and still is it that we can hear thebleating of sheep a good mile off, and the throb of the oars of a boat faraway on the water, although the boat itself is but a little dark speck. There is another dark speck, high, high above the crimson clouds. It comesnearer and nearer; it gets bigger and bigger; and presently a huge eaglefloats over the castle, making homeward to his eyrie in the cliffs of BenCoila. 

The air gets cooler as the shadows fall; I draw the shawl closer round myaunt's shoulders. She lifts a hand as if to deprecate the attention. 

'Listen, Murdoch, ' she says. 'Listen, Murdoch M'Crimman. '

She seldom calls me by my name complete. 

'I may leave you now, may I not?'

'I know what you mean, aunt, ' I reply. 'Yes; to the best of my ability Iwill write our strange story. '

'Who else would but you, Murdoch M'Crimman, chief of the house of Crimman, chief of the clan?'

I bow my head in silent sorrow. 

'Yes, aunt; I know. Poor father is gone, and I _am_ chief. '

She touches my hand lightly--it is her way of taking farewell. Next momentI am alone. Orla thrusts his great muzzle into my hand; I pat his head, then go back with him to my turret chamber, and once more take up my pen. 

 * * * * *

A blood feud! Has the reader ever heard of such a thing? Happily it isunknown in our day. A blood feud--a quarrel 'twixt kith and kin, a feudoftentimes bequeathed from bleeding sire to son, handed down fromgeneration to generation, getting more bitter in each; a feud that noteven death itself seems enough to obliterate; an enmity never to beforgotten while hills raise high their heads to meet the clouds. 

Such a feud is surely cruel. It is more, it is sinful--it is madness. Yetjust such a feud had existed for far more than a hundred years between ourfamily of M'Crimman and the Raes of Strathtoul. 

There is but little pleasure in referring back to such a family quarrel, but to do so is necessary. Vast indeed is the fire that a small spark maysometimes kindle. Two small dead branches rubbing together as the windblows may fire a forest, and cause a conflagration that shall sweep fromend to end of a continent. 

It was a hundred years ago, and forty years to that; the head of the houseof Stuart--Prince Charles Edward, whom his enemies called thePretender--had not yet set foot on Scottish shore, though there wererumours almost daily that he had indeed come at last. The Raes werecousins of the M'Crimmans; the Raes were head of the clan M'Rae, and theircountry lay to the south of our estates. It was an ill-fated day for bothclans when one morning a stalwart Highlander, flying from glen to glenwith the fiery cross waving aloft, brought a missive to the chief ofCoila. The Raes had been summoned to meet their prince; the M'Crimman hadbeen _solicited_. In two hours' time the straths were all astir withpreparations for the march. No boy or man who could carry arms, 'twixt theages of sixteen and sixty, but buckled his claymore to his side and madeready to leave. Listen to the wild shout of the men, the shrill notes ofbagpipes, the wailing of weeping women and children! Oh, it was a stirringtime; my Scotch blood leaps in all my veins as I think of it even now. Right on our side; might on our side! We meant to do or die!

 'Rise! rise! lowland and highland men! Bald sire to beardless son, each come and early. Rise! rise! mainland and island men, Belt on your claymores and fight for Prince Charlie. Down from the mountain steep-- Up from the valley deep-- Out from the clachan, the bothy and shieling; Bugle and battle-drum, Bid chief and vassal come, Loudly our bagpipes the pibroch are pealing. '

M'Crimman of Coila that evening met the Raes hastening towards the lake. 

'Ah, kinsman, ' cried M'Crimman, 'this is indeed a glorious day! I havebeen summoned by letter from the royal hands of our bold young princehimself. '

'And I, chief of the Raes, have been summoned by cross. A letter was nonetoo good for Coila. Strathtoul must be content to follow the pibroch anddrum. '

'It was an oversight. My brother must neither fret nor fume. If our princebut asked me, I'd fight in the ranks for him, and carry musket or pike orpistol. '

[Illustration: Ray lay Stark and Stiff]

'It's good being you, with your letter and all that. Kinsman though yoube, I'd have you know, and I'd have our prince understand, that the Raesand Crimmans are one and the same family, and equal where they stand orfall. '

'Of that, ' said the proud Coila, drawing himself up and lowering hisbrows, 'our prince is the best judge. '

'These are pretty airs to give yourself, M'Crimman! One would think yourclaymore drank blood every morning!'

'Brother, ' said M'Crimman, 'do not let us quarrel. I have orders to seeyour people on the march. They are to come with us. I must do my duty. '

'Never!' shouted Rae. 'Never shall my clan obey your commands!'

'You refuse to fight for Charlie?'

'Under your banner--yes!'

'Then draw, dog! Were you ten times more closely related to me, you shouldeat your words or drown them in your blood!'

Half an hour afterwards the M'Crimmans were on the march southwards, theirbold young chief at their head, banners streaming and pibroch ringing!but, alas! their kinsman Rae lay stark and stiff on the bare hillside. 

There and then was established the feud that lasted so long and sobitterly. Surrounded by her vassals and retainers, loud in their wailingfor their departed chief, the widowed wife had thrown herself on the bodyof her husband in a paroxysm of wild, uncontrollable grief. 

But nought could restore life and animation to that lowly form. The deadchief lay on his back, with face up-turned to the sky's blue, which hiseyes seemed to pierce. His bonnet had fallen off, his long yellow hairfloated on the grass, his hand yet grasped the great claymore, but histartans were dyed with blood. 

Then a brother of the Rae approached and led the weeping woman gentlyaway. Almost immediately the warriors gathered and knelt around thecorpse and swore the terrible feud--swore eternal enmity to the house ofCoila--'to fight the clan wherever found, to wrestle, to rackle and rivewith them, and never to make peace

 'While there's leaf on the forest Or foam on the river. '

We all know the story of Prince Charlie's expedition, and how, aftervictories innumerable, all was lost to his cause through disunions in hisown camps; how his sun went down on the red field of Culloden Moor; howtrue and steadfast, even after defeat, the peasant Highlanders were totheir chief; and how the glens and straths were devastated by fire andsword; and how the streams ran red with the innocent blood of old men andchildren, spilled by the brutal soldiery of the ruthless duke. 

The M'Crimmans lost their estates. The Raes had never fought for Charlie. Their glen was spared, but the hopes of M'Rae--the young chief--wereblighted, for after years of exile the M'Crimman was pardoned, and fireswere once more lit in the halls of Castle Coila. 

Long years went by, many of the Raes went abroad to fight in foreign landswherever good swords were needed and lusty arms to wield them withal; butthose who remained in or near Strathtoul still kept up the feud with asgreat fierceness as though it had been sworn but yesterday. 

Towards the beginning of the present century, however, a strange thinghappened. A young officer of French dragoons came to reside for a time inGlen Coila. His name was Le Roi. Though of Scotch extraction, he had neverbeen before to our country. Now hospitality is part and parcel of thereligion of Scotland; it is not surprising, therefore, that this young sonof the sword should have been received with open arms at Coila, nor that, dashing, handsome, and brave himself, he should have fallen in love withthe winsome daughter of the then chief of the M'Crimmans. When he soughtto make her his bride explanations were necessary. It was no uncommonthing in those days for good Scotch families to permit themselves to beallied with France; but there must be rank on both sides. Had athunderbolt burst in Castle Coila then it could have caused no greatercommotion than did the fact when it came to light that Le Roi was a directdescendant of the chief of the Raes. Alas! for the young lovers now. LeRoi in silence and sorrow ate his last meal at Castle Coila. Hospitalityhad never been shown more liberally than it was that night, but ere thebreak of day Le Roi had gone--never to return to the glen _in propriâpersonâ_. Whether or not an aged harper who visited the castle a monththereafter was Le Roi in disguise may never be known; but this, at least, is fact--that same night the chief's daughter was spirited away and seenno more in Coila. 

There was talk, however, of a marriage having been solemnized bytorchlight, in the little Catholic chapel at the foot of the glen, but ofthis we will hear more anon, for thereby hangs a tale. 

In course of time Coila presented the sad spectacle of a house without ahead. Who should now be heir? The Scottish will of former chiefs notifiedthat in event of such an occurrence the estates should pass 'to thenearest heirs whatever. '

But was there no heir of direct descent? For a time it seemed there wouldbe or really was. To wit, a son of Le Roi, the officer who had wedded intothe house of M'Crimman. 

Now our family was brother-family to the M'Crimmans. M'Crimmans we wereourselves, and Celtic to the last drop of blood in our veins. 

Our claim to the estate was but feebly disputed by the French Rae's son. His father and mother had years ago crossed the bourne from which notraveller ever returns, and he himself was not young. The little church orchapel in which the marriage had been celebrated was a ruin--it had beenburned to the ground, whether as part price of the terrible feud or not, no one could say; the priest was dead, or gone none knew whither; and oldMawsie, a beldame, lived in the cottage that had once been the Catholicmanse. 

Those were wild and strange times altogether in this part of the ScottishHighlands, and law was oftentimes the property of might rather thanright. 

At the time, then, our story really opens, my father had lived in thecastle and ruled in the glens for many a long year. I was the first-born, next came Donald, then Dugald, and last of all our one sister Flora. 

What a happy life was ours in Glen Coila, till the cloud arose on ourhorizon, which, gathering force amain, burst in storm at last over ourdevoted heads!

CHAPTER II. 

OUR BOYHOOD'S LIFE. 

On our boyhood's life--that, I mean, of my brothers and myself--I mustdwell no longer than the interest of our strange story demands, for ourchapters must soon be filled with the relation of events and adventuresfar more stirring than anything that happened at home in our day. 

And yet no truer words were ever spoken than these--'the boy is father ofthe man. ' The glorious battle of Waterloo--Wellington himself told us--waswon in the cricket field at home. And in like manner our greatest pioneersof civilisation, our most successful emigrants, men who have oftenliterally to lash the rifle to the plough stilts, as they cultivate andreclaim the land of the savage, have been made and manufactured, so tospeak, in the green valleys of old England, and on the hills and moors ofbonnie Scotland. 

Probably the new M'Crimman of Coila, as my father was called on the lakeside and in the glens, had mingled more, far more, in life than any chiefwho had ever reigned before him. He would not have been averse to drawingthe sword in his country's cause, had it been necessary, but my brothersand I were born in peaceful times, shortly after the close of the war withRussia. No, my father could have drawn the claymore, but he could also usethe ploughshare--and did. 

There were at first grumblers in the clans, who lamented the advent ofanything that they were pleased to call new-fangled. Men there were whowished to live as their forefathers had done in the 'good oldtimes'--cultivate only the tops of the 'rigs, ' pasture the sheep andcattle on the upland moors, and live on milk and meal, and the fish fromthe lake, with an occasional hare, rabbit, or bird when Heaven thought fitto send it. 

They were not prepared for my father's sweeping innovations. They staredin astonishment to see the bare hillsides planted with sheltering spruceand pine trees; to see moss and morass turned inside out, drained and madeto yield crops of waving grain, where all was moving bog before; to seecomfortable cottages spring up here and there, with real stone walls andsmiling gardens front and rear, in place of the turf and tree shielings ofbygone days; and to see a new school-house, where English--realEnglish--was spoken and taught, pour forth a hundred happy children almostevery weekday all the year round. 

This was 'tempting Providence, and no good could come of it;' so spoke thegrumblers, and they wondered indeed that the old warlike chiefs ofM'Crimman did not turn in their graves. But even the grumblers got fewerand further between, and at last long peace and plenty reigned contentedlyhand in hand from end to end of Glen Coila, and all around the loch thatwas at once the beauty and pride of our estate. 

Improvements were not confined to the crofters' holdings; they extended tothe castle farm and to the castle itself. Nothing that was old about thelatter was swept away, but much that was new sprang up, and rooms longuntenanted were now restored. 

A very ancient and beautiful castle was that of Coila, with its one hugemassive tower, and its dark frowning embattled walls. It could be seenfrom far and near, for even the loch itself was high above the level ofthe sea. I speak of it, be it observed, in the past tense, solely becauseI am writing of the past--of happy days for ever fled. The castle is stillas beautiful--nay, even more so, for my aunt's good taste has completedthe improvements my father began. 

I do not think any one could have come in contact with father, as Iremember him during our early days at Coila, without loving and respectinghim. He was our hero--my brothers' and mine--so tall, so noble-looking, sohandsome, whether ranging over the heather in autumn with his gun on hisshoulder, or labouring with a hoe or rake in hand in garden or meadow. 

Does it surprise any one to know that even a Highland chieftain, descendedfrom a long line of warriors, could handle a hoe as deftly as a claymore?I grant he may have been the first who ever did so from choice, but was hedemeaned thereby? Assuredly not; and work in the fields never went half socheerfully on as when father and we boys were in the midst of theservants. Our tutor was a young clergyman, and he, too, used to throw offhis black coat and join us. 

At such times it would have done the heart of a cynic good to have beenthere; song and joke and hearty laugh followed in such quick successionthat it seemed more like working for fun than anything else. 

And our triumph of triumphs was invariably consummated at the end ofharvest, for then a supper was given to the tenants and servants. Thissupper took place in the great hall of the castle--the hall that inancient days had witnessed many a warlike meeting and Bacchanalian feast. 

Before a single invitation was made out for this event of the season everysheaf and stook had to be stored and the stubble raked, every rick in thehome barn-yards had to be thatched and tidied; 'whorls' of turnips had tobe got up and put in pits for the cattle, and even a considerable portionof the ploughing done. 

'Boys, ' my father would say then, pointing with pride to his lordly stacksof grain and hay, 'Boys, '"Peace hath her victories, No less renowned than war. "

And now, ' he would add, 'go and help your tutor to write out theinvitations. '

So kindly-hearted was father that he would even have extended the righthand of peace and fellowship to the Raes of Strathtoul. The head of thishouse, however, was too proud; yet his pride was of a different kind fromfather's. It was of the stand-aloof kind. It was even rumoured that LeRoi, or Rae, had said at a dinner-party that my good, dear father broughtdisgrace on the warlike name of M'Crimman because he mingled with hisservants in the field, and took a very personal interest in the welfare ofhis crofter tenantry. 

But my father had different views of life from this semi-French Rae ofStrathtoul. He appreciated the benefits and upheld the dignity, and evensanctity, of honest labour. Had he lived in the days of Ancient Greece, hemight have built a shrine to Labour, and elevated it to the rank ofgoddess. Only my father was no heathen, but a plain, God-fearing man, wholoved, or tried to love, his neighbour as himself. 

If our father was a hero to us boys, not less so was he to our darlingmother, and to little Sister Flora as well. So it may be truthfully saidthat we were a happy family. The time sped by, the years flew on without, apparently, ever a bit of change from one Christmas Day to another. Mr. Townley, our tutor, seemed to have little ambition to 'better himself, ' asit is termed. When challenged one morning at breakfast with his want ofdesire to push, 'Oh, ' said Townley, 'I'm only a young man yet, and really I do not wish tobe any happier than I am. It will be a grief to me when the boys growolder and go out into the world and need me no more. '

Mr. Townley was a strict and careful teacher, but by no means a hardtaskmaster. Indoors during school hours he was the pedagogue all over. Hecarried etiquette even to the extent of wearing cap and gown, but thesewere thrown off with scholastic duties; he was then--out of doors--asjolly as a schoolboy going to play at his first cricket-match. 

In the field father was our teacher. He taught us, and the 'grieve, ' orbailiff, taught us everything one needs to know about a farm. Not inheadwork alone. No; for, young as we were at this time, my brothers and Icould wield axe, scythe, hoe, and rake. 

We were Highland boys all over, in mind and body, blood and bone. I--Murdoch--was fifteen when the cloud gathered that finally changed ourfortunes. Donald and Dugald were respectively fourteen and thirteen, andSister Flora was eleven. 

Big for our years we all were, and I do not think there was anything ondry land, or on the water either, that we feared. Mr. Townley used veryoften to accompany us to the hills, to the river and lake, but notinvariably. We dearly loved our tutor. What a wonderful piece ofmuscularity and good-nature he was, to be sure, as I remember him! Of bothhis muscularity and good-nature I am afraid we often took advantage. Florainvariably did, for out on the hills she would turn to him with the utmost_sang-froid_, saying, 'Townley, I'm tired; take me on your back. ' And formiles Townley would trudge along with her, feeling her weight no more thanif she had been a moth that had got on his shoulders by accident. Therewas no tiring Townley. 

To look at our tutor's fair young face, one would never have given him thecredit of possessing a deal of romance, or believed it possible that hecould have harboured any feeling akin to love. But he did. Now this is astory of stirring adventure and of struggle, and not a love tale; so thetruth may be as well told in this place as further on--Townley loved myaunt. It should be remembered that at this time she was young, but littleover twenty, and in every way she was worthy to be the heroine of astory. 

Townley, however, was no fool. Although he was admitted to thecompanionship of every member of our family, and treated in every respectas an equal, he could not forget that there was a great gulf fixed betweenthe humble tutor and the youngest sister of the chief of the M'Crimmans. If he loved, he kept the secret bound up in his own breast, content tolive and be near the object of his adoration. Perhaps this hopelesspassion of Townley's had much to do with the formation of his history. 

 * * * * *

Those dear old days of boyhood! Even as they were passing away we used towish they would last for ever. Surely that is proof positive that we werevery happy, for is it not common for boys to wish they were men? We neverdid. 

For we had everything we could desire to make our little lives a pleasurelong drawn out. Boys who were born in towns--and we knew many of these, and invited them occasionally to visit us at our Highland home--we used topity from the bottom of our hearts. How little they knew about countrysports and country life!

One part of our education alone was left to our darling mother--namely, Bible history. Oh, how delightful it used to be to listen to her voice as, seated by our bedside in the summer evenings, she told us tales from theBook of Books! Then she would pray with us, for us, and for father; andsweet and soft was the slumber that soon visited our pillows. 

Looking back now to those dear old days, I cannot help thinking that thepractice of religion as carried on in our house was more Puritanical inits character than any I have seen elsewhere. The Sabbath was a day ofsuch solemn rest that one lived as it were in a dream. No food was cooked;even the tables in breakfast-room and dining-hall were laid on Saturday;no horse left the stables, the servants dressed in their sombrest andbest, moved about on tiptoe, and talked in whispers. We children weretaught to consider it sinful even to think our own thoughts on this holyday. If we boys ever forgot ourselves so far as to speak of thingssecular, there was Flora to lift a warning finger and with terribleearnestness remind us that this was God's day. 

From early morn to dewy eve all throughout the Sabbath we felt as if ourfootsteps were on the boundaries of another world--that kind, lovingangels were near watching all our doings. 

I am drawing a true picture of Sunday life in many a Scottish family, butI would not have my readers mistake me. Let me say, then, that ours wasnot a religion of fear so much as of love. To grieve or vex the great GoodBeing who made us and gave us so much to be thankful for would have been acrime which would have brought its own punishment by the sorrow andrepentance created in our hearts. 

Just one other thing I must mention, because it has a bearing on events tobe related in the next chapter. We were taught then never to forget that aday of reckoning was before us all, that after death should come thejudgment. But mother's prayers and our religion brought us only the mostunalloyed happiness. 

CHAPTER III. 

A TERRIBLE RIDE. 

I have but to gaze from the window of the tower in which I am writing tosee a whole fieldful of the daftest-looking long-tailed, long-maned poniesimaginable. These are the celebrated Castle Coila ponies, as full ofmischief, fun, and fire as any British boy could wish, most difficult tocatch, more difficult still to saddle, and requiring all the skill of atrained equestrian to manage after mounting. As these ponies are to-day, so they were when I was a boy. The very boys whom I mentioned in the lastchapter would have gone anywhere and done anything rather than attempt toride a Coila pony. Not that they ever refused, they were too courageousfor that. But when Gilmore led a pony round, I know it needed all thepluck they could muster to put foot in stirrup. Flora's advice to them wasnot bad. 

'There is plenty of room on the moors, boys, ' she would say, laughing; andFlora always brought out the word 'boys' with an air of patronage andself-superiority that was quite refreshing. 'Plenty of room on the moors, so you keep the ponies hard at the gallop, till they are quite tired. Mind, don't let them trot. If you do, they will lie down and tumble. '

Poor Archie Bateman! I shall never forget his first wild scamper over themoorland. He would persist in riding in his best London clothes, spotlessbroad white collar, shining silk hat, gloves, and all. Before mounting heeven bent down to flick a little tiny bit of dust off his boots. 

The ponies were fresh that morning. In fact, the word 'fresh' hardlydescribes the feeling of buoyancy they gave proof of. For a time it was asdifficult to mount one as it would be for a fly to alight on a top at fullspin. We took them to the paddock, where the grass and moss were soft. Donald, Dugald, and I held Flora's fiery steed _vi et armis_ till she gotinto the saddle. 

'Mind to keep them at it, boys, ' were her last words, as she flew out andaway through the open gateway. Then we prepared to follow. Donald, Dugald, and I were used to tumbles, and for five minutes or more we amusedourselves by getting up only to get off again. But we were not hurt. Finally we mounted Archie. His brother was not going out that morning, andI do believe to this day that Archie hoped to curry favour with Flora by alittle display of horsemanship, for he had been talking a deal to her theevening before of the delights of riding in London. 

At all events, if he had meant to create a sensation he succeededadmirably, though at the expense of a portion of his dignity. 

No sooner was he mounted than off he rode. Stay, though, I should rathersay that no sooner did we mount him than off he was carried. That is a wayof putting it which is more in accordance with facts, for we--Donald, Dugald, and I--mounted him, and the pony did the rest, he, Archie, beinglegally speaking _nolens volens_. When my brothers and I emerged at last, we could just distinguish Flora waiting on the horizon of a braeland, herfigure well thrown out against the sky, her pony curveting round andround, which was Flora's pet pony's way of keeping still. Away at atangent from the proper line of march, Archie on his steed was beingrapidly whirled. As soon as we came within sight of our sister, weobserved her making signs in Archie's direction and concluded to follow. Having duly signalled her wishes, Flora disappeared over the brow of thehill. Her intention was, we afterwards found out, to take a cross-cut andintercept, if possible, the mad career of Archie's Coila steed. 

'Hurry up, Donald, ' I shouted to my nearest brother; 'that pony is mad. Itis making straight for the cliffs of Craigiemore. '

On we went at furious speed. It was in reality, or appeared to be, a racefor life; but should we win? The terrible cliffs for which Archie's ponywas heading away were perpendicular bluffs that rose from a dark slimymorass near the lake. Fifty feet high they were at the lowest, and pointedunmistakably to some terrible convulsion of Nature in ages long gone by. They looked like hills that had been sawn in half--one half taken, theother left. 

Our ponies were gaining on Archie's. The boy had given his its head, butit was evident he was now aware of his danger and was trying to rein in. Trying, but trying in vain. The pony was in command of the situation. 

On--on--on they rush. I can feel my heart beating wildly against my ribsas we all come nigher and nigher to the cliffs. Donald's pony and Dugald'sboth overtake me. Their saddles are empty. My brothers have both beenunhorsed. I think not of that, all my attention is bent on the riderahead. If he could but turn his pony's head even now, he would be saved. But no, it is impossible. They are on the cliff. There! they are over it, and a wild scream of terror seems to rend the skies and turn my blood towater. 

[Illustration: 'Look! He is Over!']

But lo! I, too, am now in danger. My pony has the bit fast between histeeth. He means to play at an awful game--follow my leader! I feel dizzy;I have forgotten that I might fling myself off even at the risk of brokenbones. I am close to the cliff--I--hurrah! I am saved! Saved at the verymoment when it seemed nothing could save me, for dear Flora has dashed infront of me--has cut across my bows, as sailors would say, striking mypony with all the strength of her arm as she is borne along. Saved, yes, but both on the ground. I extricate myself and get up. Our ponies are allpanting; they appear now to realize the fearfulness of the danger, andstand together cowed and quiet. Poor Flora is very pale, and blood istrickling from a wound in her temple, while her habit is torn and soiled. We have little time to notice this; we must ride round and look for thebody of poor Archie. 

It was a ride of a good mile to reach the cliff foot, but it took us but avery short time to get round, albeit the road was rough and dangerous. Wehad taken our bearings aright, but for a time we could see no signs ofthose we had come to seek. But presently with her riding-whip Florapointed to a deep black hole in the slimy bog. 

'They are there!' she cried; then burst into a flood of tears. 

We did the best we could to comfort our little sister, and were allreturning slowly, leading our steeds along the cliff foot, when I stumbledagainst something lying behind a tussock of grass. 

The something moved and spoke when I bent down. It was poor Archie, whohad escaped from the morass as if by a miracle. 

A little stream was near; it trickled in a half-cataract down the cliffs. Donald and Dugald hurried away to this and brought back Highlandbonnetfuls of water. Then we washed Archie's face and made him drink. Howwe rejoiced to see him smile again! I believe the London accent of hisvoice was at that moment the sweetest music to Flora she had ever heard inher life. 

'What a pwepostewous tumble I've had! How vewy, _vewy_ stoopid of me to bewun away with!'

Poor Flora laughed one moment at her cousin and cried the next, so fullwas her heart. But presently she proved herself quite a little woman. 

'I'll ride on to the castle, ' she said, 'and get dry things ready. You'dbetter go to bed, Archie, when you come home; you are not like a Highlandboy, you know. Oh, I'm so glad you're alive! But--ha, ha, ha! excuseme--but you do look _so_ funny!' and away she rode. 

We mounted Archie on Dugald's nag and rode straight away to the lake. Herewe tied our ponies to the birch-trees, and, undressing, plunged in for aswim. When we came out we arranged matters thus: Dugald gave Archie hisshirt, Donald gave him a pair of stockings, and I gave him a cap and myjacket, which was long enough to reach his knees. We tied the wet things, after washing the slime off, all in a bundle, and away the procession wentto Coila. Everybody turned out to witness our home-coming. Well, we didlook rather motley, but--Archie was saved. 

My own adventures, however, had not ended yet. Neither my brothers norFlora cared to go out again that day, so in the afternoon I shouldered myfishing rod and went off to enjoy a quiet hour's sport. 

What took my footsteps towards the stream that made its exit from theloch, and went meandering down the glen, I never could tell. It was nofavourite stream of mine, for though it contained plenty of trout, itpassed through many woods and dark, gloomy defiles, with here and there awaterfall, and was on the whole so overhung with branches that there wasdifficulty in making a cast. I was far more successful than I expected tobe, however, and the day wore so quickly away that on looking up I wassurprised to find that the sun had set, and I must be quite seven milesfrom home. What did that matter? there would be a moon! I had Highlandlegs and a Highland heart, and knew all the cross-cuts in the countryside. I would try for that big trout that had just leapt up to catch amoth. It took me half an hour to hook it. But I did, and after some prettyplay I had the satisfaction of landing a lovely three-pounder. I nowreeled up, put my rod in its canvas case, and prepared to make the best ofmy way to the castle. 

It was nearly an hour since the sun had gone down like a huge crimsonball in the west, and now slowly over the hills a veritable facsimile ofit was rising, and soon the stars came out as gloaming gave place tonight, and moonlight flooded all the woods and glen. 

The scene around me was lovely, but lonesome in the extreme, for there wasnot a house anywhere near, nor a sound to break the stillness except nowand then the eerisome cry of the brown owl that flitted silently pastoverhead. Had I been very timid I could have imagined that figures werecreeping here and there in the flickering shadows of the trees, or thatghosts and bogles had come out to keep me company. My nearest way homewould be to cross a bit of heathery moor and pass by the neglectedgraveyard and ruined Catholic chapel; and, worse than all, the ancientmanse where lived old Mawsie. 

I never believed that Mawsie was a witch, though others did. She was saidto creep about on moonlight nights like a dry aisk, [1] so people said, 'mooling' among heaps of rubbish and the mounds over the graves as shegathered herbs to concoct strange mixtures withal. Certainly Mawsie was nobeauty; she walked 'two-fold, ' leaning on a crutch; she was gray-bearded, wrinkled beyond conception; her head was swathed winter and summer inwraps of flannel, and altogether she looked uncanny. Nevertheless, thepeasant people never hesitated to visit her to beg for herb-tea and oil torub their joints. But they always chose the daylight in which to maketheir calls. 

'Perhaps, ' I thought, 'I'd better go round. ' Then something whispered tome, 'What! you a M'Crimman, and confessing to fear!'

That decided me, and I went boldly on. For the life of me, however, Icould not keep from mentally repeating those weird and awful lines inBurns' 'Tam o' Shanter, ' descriptive of the hero's journey homewards onthat unhallowed and awful night when he forgathered with the witches:

 'By this time he was 'cross the ford Whare in the snaw the chapman smo'red;[2] And past the birks[3] and meikle stane Whare drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane; And through the furze and by the cairn Where hunters found the murdered bairn, And near the thorn, aboon the well, Where Mungo's mither hanged hersel', When glimmering through the groaning trees, Kirk Alloway seemed in a bleeze. '

I almost shuddered as I said to myself, 'What if there be lightsglimmering from the frameless windows of the ruined chapel? or what if oldMawsie's windows be "in a bleeze"?'

Tall, ghostly-looking elder-trees grew round the old manse, which peoplehad told me always kept moving, even when no breath of wind was blowing. 

If I had shuddered before, my heart stood still now with a nameless dread, for sure enough, from both the 'butt' and the 'ben' of the so-calledwitch's cottage lights were glancing. 

What could it mean? She was too old to have company, almost an invalid, with age alone and its attendant infirmities--so, at least, people said. But it had also been rumoured lately that Mawsie was up to doings whichwere far from canny, that lights had been seen flitting about the oldchurchyard and ruin, and that something was sure to happen. Nobody in theparish could have been found hardy enough to cross the glen-foot whereMawsie lived long after dark. Well, had I thought of all this before, itis possible that I might have given her house a wide berth. It was now toolate. I felt like one in a dream, impelled forward towards the cottage. Iseemed to be walking on the air as I advanced. 

To get to the windows, however, I must cross the graveyard yard and theruin. This last was partly covered with tall rank ivy, and, hearing soundsinside, and seeing the glimmer of lanterns, I hid in the old porch, quiteshaded by the greenery. 

From my concealment I could notice that men were at work in a vault or piton the floor of the old chapel, from which earth and rubbish were beingdislodged, while another figure--not that of a workman--was bending overand addressing them in English. It was evident, therefore, those peoplebelow were not Highlanders, for in the face of the man who spoke I wasable at a glance to distinguish the hard-set lineaments of the villainDuncan M'Rae. This man had been everything in his time--soldier, school-teacher, poacher, thief. He was abhorred by his own clan, andfeared by every one. Even the school children, if they met him on theroad, would run back to avoid him. 

Duncan had only recently come back to the glen after an absence of years, and every one said his presence boded no good. I shuddered as I gazed, almost spellbound, on his evil countenance, rendered doubly ugly in theuncertain light of the lantern. Suppose he should find me! I crept closerinto my corner now, and tried to draw the ivy round me. I dared not run, for fear of being seen, for the moonlight was very bright indeed, andM'Rae held a gun in his hand. 

After a time, which appeared to be interminable, I heard Duncan invite themen into supper, and slowly they clambered up out of the pit, and thethree prepared to leave together. 

All might have been well now, for they passed me without even a glance inmy direction; but presently I heard one of the men stumble. 

'Hullo!' he said; 'is this basket of fish yours, Mr. Mac?'

'No, ' was the answer, with an imprecation that made me quake. 'We arewatched!'

In another moment I was dragged from my place of concealment, and thelight was held up to my face. 

'A M'Crimman of Coila, by all that is furious! And so, youngster, you'vecome to watch? You know the family feud, don't you? Well, prepare to meetyour doom. You'll never leave here alive. '

He pointed his gun at me as he spoke. 

'Hold!' cried one of the men. 'We came from town to do a bit of honestwork, but we will not witness murder. '

'I only wanted to frighten him, ' said M'Rae, lowering his gun. 'Look you, sir, ' he continued, addressing me once more, 'I don't want revenge, evenon a M'Crimman of Coila. I'm a poacher; perhaps I'm a distiller in a quietway. No matter, you know what an oath is. You'll swear ere you leave here, not to breathe a word of what you've seen. You hear?'

'I promise I won't, ' I faltered. 

He handled his fowling-piece threateningly once again. Verily, he had justthen a terribly evil look. 

'I swear, ' I said, with trembling lips. 

His gun was again lowered. He seemed to breathe more freely--lessfiercely. 

'Go, now, ' he said, pointing across the moor. 'If a poor man like myselfwants to hide either his game or his private still, what odds is it to aM'Crimman of Coila?'

How I got home I never knew. I remember that evening being in our frontdrawing-room with what seemed a sea of anxious faces round me, some ofwhich were bathed in tears. Then all was a long blank, interspersed withfearful dreams. 

It was weeks before I recovered consciousness. I was then lying in bed. Inat the open window was wafted the odour of flowers, for it was a summer'sevening, and outside were the green whispering trees. Townley sat besidethe bed, book in hand, and almost started when I spoke. 

[Illustration: He pointed his Gun at me]

'Mr. Townley!'

'Yes, dear boy. '

'Have I been long ill?'

'For weeks--four, I think. How glad I am you are better! But you must keepvery, _very_ quiet. I shall go and bring your mother now, and Flora. '

I put out my thin hand and detained him. 

'Tell me, Mr. Townley, ' I said, 'have I spoken much in my sleep, for Ihave been dreaming such foolish dreams?'

Townley looked at me long and earnestly. He seemed to look me through andthrough. Then he replied slowly, almost solemnly, 'Yes, dear boy, you have spoken _much_. '

I closed my eyes languidly. For now I knew that Townley was aware of morethan ever I should have dared to reveal. 

-----

 [1] Triton. 

 [2] Smothered. 

 [3] Birch-trees. 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE RING AND THE BOOK. 

My return to health was a slow though not a painful one. My mind, however, was clear, and even before I could partake of food I enjoyed hearingsister play to me on her harp. Sometimes aunt, too, would play. My motherseldom left the room by day, and one of my chief delights was her storiesfrom Bible life and tales of Bible lands. 

At last I was permitted to get up and recline in fauteuil or on sofa. 

'Mother, ' I said one day, 'I feel getting stronger, but somehow I do notregain spirits. Is there some sorrow in your heart, mother, or do I onlyimagine it?'

She smiled, but there were tears in her eyes. 

'I'm sure we are all very, _very_ happy, Murdoch, to have you getting wellagain. '

'And, mother, ' I persisted, 'father does not seem easy in mind either. Hecomes in and talks to me, but often I think his mind is wandering to othersubjects. '

'Foolish child! nothing could make your father unhappy. He does his dutyby us all, and his faith is fixed. '

One day they came and told me that the doctor had ordered me away to theseaside. Mother and Flora were to come, and one servant; the rest of ourfamily were to follow. 

It was far away south to Rothesay we went, and here, my cheeks fanned bythe delicious sea-breezes, I soon began to grow well and strong again. Butthe sorrow in my mother's face was more marked than ever, though I hadceased to refer to it. 

The rooms we had hired were very pleasant, but looked very small incomparison with the great halls I had been used to. 

Well, on a beautiful afternoon father and my brothers arrived, and we allhad tea out on the shady lawn, up to the very edge of which the waves werelapping and lisping. 

I was reclining in a hammock chair, listening to the sea's soft, soothingmurmur, when father brought his camp-stool and sat near me. 

'Murdoch, boy, ' he said, taking my hand gently, almost tenderly, in his, 'are you strong enough to bear bad news?'

My heart throbbed uneasily, but I replied, bravely enough, 'Yes, dearfather; yes. '

'Then, ' he said, speaking very slowly, as if to mark the effect of everyword, 'we are--never--to return--to Castle Coila!'

I was calm now, for, strange to say, the news appeared to be no news atall. 

'Well, father, ' I answered, cheerfully, 'I can bear that--I could bearanything but separation. '

I went over and kissed my mother and sister. 

'So this is the cloud that was in your faces, eh? Well, the worst is over. I have nothing to do now but get well. Father, I feel quite a man. '

'So do we both feel men, ' said Donald and Dugald; 'and we are all going towork. Won't that be jolly?'

In a few brief words father then explained our position. There had arrivedone day, some weeks after the worst and most dangerous part of my illnesswas over, an advocate from Aberdeen, in a hired carriage. He had, hesaid, a friend with him, who seemed, so he worded it, 'like one risenfrom the dead. '

His friend was helped down, and into father's private room off the hall. 

His friend was the old beldame Mawsie, and a short but wonderful story shehad to tell, and did tell, the Aberdeen advocate sitting quietly by thewhile with a bland smile on his face. She remembered, she said with many asigh and groan, and many a doleful shake of head and hand, the marriage ofLe Roi the dragoon with the Miss M'Crimman of Coila, although but a girlat the time; and she remembered, among many other things, that thepriest's books were hidden for safety in a vault, where he also kept allthe money he possessed. No one knew of the existence of this vault excepther, and so on and so forth. So voluble did the old lady become that theadvocate had to apply the _clôture_ at last. 

'It is strange--if true, ' my father had muttered. 'Why, ' he added, 'hadthe old lady not spoken of this before?'

'Ah, yes, to be sure, ' said the Aberdonian. 'Well, that also is strange, but easily explained. The shock received on the night of the fire at thechapel had deprived the poor soul of memory. For years and years thisdeprivation continued, but one day, not long ago, the son of the presentclaimant, and probably rightful heir, to Coila walked into her room at theold manse, gun in hand. He had been down shooting at Strathtoul, andnaturally came across to view the ruin so intimately connected with hisfather's fate and fortune. No sooner had he appeared than the good olddame rushed towards him, calling him by his grandfather's name. Her memoryhad returned as suddenly as it had gone. She had even told him of thevault. 'Perhaps, ' continued he, with a meaning smile, '"'Tis the sunset of life gives her mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadow before. "'

A fortnight after this visit a meeting of those concerned took place atthe beldame's house. She herself pointed to the place where she thoughtthe vault lay, and with all due legal formality digging was commenced, andthe place was found not far off. At first glance the vault seemed empty. In one corner, however, was found, covered lightly over with witheredferns, many bottles of wine and--a box. The two men of law, Le Roi'ssolicitor and M'Crimman's, had a little laugh all to themselves over thewine. Legal men will laugh at anything. 

'The priest must have kept a good cellar on the sly, ' one said. 

'That is evident, ' replied the other. 

The box was opened with some little difficulty. In it was a book--an oldLatin Bible. But something else was in it too. Townley was the first tonote it. Only a silver ring such as sailors wear--a ring with a littleheart-shaped ruby stone in it. Book and ring were now sealed up in thebox, and next day despatched to Edinburgh with all due formality. The bestlegal authorities the Scotch metropolis could boast of were consulted onboth sides, but fate for once was against the M'Crimmans of Coila. Thebook told its tale. Half-carelessly written on fly-leaves, but each dulydated and signed by Stewart, the priest, were notes concerning manymarriages, Le Roi's among the rest. 

Even M'Crimman himself confessed that he was satisfied--as was every oneelse save Townley. 

'The book has told one tale--or rather its binding has, ' said Townley;'but the ring may yet tell another. '

All this my father related to me that evening as we sat together on thelawn by the beach of Rothesay. 

When he had finished I sat silently gazing seawards, but spoke not. Mybrothers told me afterwards that I looked as if turned to stone. And, indeed, indeed, my heart felt so. When father first told me we should goback no more to Coila I felt almost happy that the bad news was no worse;but now that explanations had followed, my perplexity was extreme. 

One thing was sure and certain--there was a conspiracy, and the events ofthat terrible night at the ruin had to do with it. The evil man DuncanM'Rae was in it. Townley suspected it from words I must have let fall inmy delirium; but, worst of all, my mouth was sealed. Oh, why, why did Inot rather die than be thus bound!

It must be remembered that I was very young, and knew not then that anoath so forced upon me could not be binding. 

Come weal, come woe, however, I determined to keep my word. 

 * * * * *

The scene of our story changes now to Edinburgh itself. Here we had allgone to live in a house owned by aunt, not far from the Calton Hill. Wewere comparatively poor now, for father, with the honour and Christianfeeling that ever characterized him, had even paid up back rent to the newowner of Coila Castle and Glen. 

That parting from Coila had been a sad one. I was not there--luckily forme, perhaps; but Townley has told me of it often and often. 

'Yes, Murdoch M'Crimman, ' he said, 'I have been present at the funeral ofmany a Highland chief, but none of these impressed me half so much as thescene in Glen Coila, when the carriage containing your dear father andmother and Flora left the old castle and wound slowly down the glen. Men, women, and little ones joined in procession, and marched behind it, and sofollowed on and on till they reached the glen-foot, with the bagpipesplaying "Farewell to Lochaber. " This affected your father as much, Ithink, as anything else. As for your mother, she sat silently weeping, andFlora dared hardly trust herself to look up at all. Then the parting! Thechief, your father, stood up and addressed his people--for "his people" hestill would call them. There was not a tremor in his voice, nor wasthere, on the other hand, even a spice of bravado. He spoke to themcalmly, logically. In the old days, he said, might had been right, andmany a gallant corps of heroes had his forefathers led from the glen, buttimes had changed. They were governed by good laws, and good laws meantfair play, for they protected all alike, gentle and simple, poor as wellas rich. He bade them love and honour the new chief of Coila, to whom, ashis proven right, he not only heartily transferred his lands and castle, but even, as far as possible, the allegiance of his people. They must beof good cheer, he said; he would never forget the happy time he had spentin Coila, and if they should meet no more on this earth, there was aHappier Land beyond death and the grave. He ended his brief oration withthat little word which means so much, "Good-bye. " But scarcely would theylet him go. Old, bare-headed, white-haired men crowded round the carriageto bless their chief and press his hand; tearful women held children upthat he might but touch their hair, while some had thrown themselves onthe heather in paroxysms of a grief which was uncontrollable. Then thepipes played once more as the carriage drove on, while the voices of theyoung men joined in chorus--

 "Youth of the daring heart, bright be thy doom As the bodings that light up thy bold spirit now. But the fate of M'Crimman is closing in gloom, And the breath of the grey wraith hath passed o'er his brow. "

'When, ' added Townley, 'a bend of the road and the drooping birch-treesshut out the mournful sight, I am sure we all felt relieved. Your father, smiling, extended his hand to your mother, and she fondled it and wept nomore. '

 * * * * *

For a time our life, to all outward seeming, was now a very quiet one. Although Donald and Dugald were sent to that splendid seminary which hasgiven so many great men and heroes to the world, the 'High School ofEdinburgh, ' Townley still lived on with us as my tutor and Flora's. 

What my father seemed to suffer most from was the want of something atwhich to employ his time, and what Townley called his 'talent foractivity. ' 'Doing nothing' was not father's form after leading soenergetic a life for so many years at Coila. Like the city of Boston inAmerica, Edinburgh prides itself on the selectness of its society. Tothis, albeit we had come down in the world, pecuniarily speaking, ourfamily had free _entrée_. This would have satisfied some men; it did notsatisfy father. He missed the bracing mountain air, he missed the freedomof the hills and the glorious exercise to which he had been accustomed. 

He missed it, but he mourned it not. His was the most unselfish nature onecould imagine. Whatever he may have felt in the privacy of his ownapartment, however much he may have sorrowed in silence, among us he wasever cheerful and even gay. Perhaps, on the whole, it may seem to somethat I write or speak in terms too eulogistic. But it should not beforgotten that the M'Crimman was my father, and that he is--gone. _Demortuis nil nisi bonum. _

The ex-chief of Coila was a gentleman. And what a deal there is in thatone wee word! No one can ape the gentleman. True gentlemanliness mustcome from the heart; the heart is the well from which it mustspring--constantly, always, in every position of life, and wherever theowner may be. No amount of exterior polish can make a true gentleman. The actor can play the part on the stage, but here he is but acting, afterall. Off the stage he may or may not be the gentleman, for then he mustnot be judged by his dress, by his demeanour in company, his calmness, orhis ducal bow, but by his actions, his words, or his spoken thoughts. 

 'Chesterfields and modes and rules For polished age and stilted youth. And high breeding's choicest school Need to learn this deeper truth: That to act, whate'er betide, Nobly on the Christian plan, This is still the surest guide How to be a gentleman. '

About a year after our arrival in Edinburgh, Townley was seated one daymidway up the beautiful mountain called Arthur's Seat. It was earlysummer; the sky was blue and almost cloudless; far beneath, the city ofpalaces and monuments seemed to sleep in the sunshine; away to the eastlay the sea, blue even as the sky itself, except where here and there acloud shadow passed slowly over its surface. Studded, too, was the seawith many a white sail, and steamers with trailing wreaths of smoke. 

The noise of city life, faint and far, fell on the ear with a hum hardlylouder than the murmur of the insects and bees that sported among the wildflowers. 

Townley would not have been sitting here had he been all by himself, forthis Herculean young parson never yet set eye on a hill he meant to climbwithout going straight to the top of it. 

'There is no tiring Townley. ' I have often heard father make that remark;and, indeed, it gave in a few words a complete clue to Townley'scharacter. 

But to-day my aunt Cecilia was with him, and it was on her account he wasresting. They had been sitting for some time in silence. 

'It is almost too lovely a day for talking, ' she said, at last. 

'True; it is a day for thinking and dreaming. '

'I do not imagine, sir, that either thinking or dreaming is very much inyour way. '

He turned to her almost sharply. 

'Oh, indeed, ' he said, 'you hardly gauge my character aright, MissM'Crimman. '

'Do I not?'

'No, if you only knew how much I think at times; if you only knew how muchI have even dared to dream--'

There was a strange meaning in his looks if not in his words. Did sheinterpret either aright, I wonder? I know not. Of one thing I am sure, andthat is, my friend and tutor was far too noble to seem to take advantageof my aunt's altered circumstances in life to press his suit. He might beher equal some day, at present he was--her brother's guest and domestic. 

'Tell me, ' she said, interrupting him, 'some of your thoughts; dreams atbest are silly. '

He heaved the faintest sigh, and for a few moments appeared bent only onforming an isosceles triangle of pebbles with his cane. 

Then he put his fingers in his pocket. 

'I wish to show you, ' he said, 'a ring. '

'A ring, Mr. Townley! What a curious ring! Silver, set with a ruby heart. Why, this is the ring--the mysterious ring that belonged to the priest, and was found in his box in the vault. '

'No, that is not _the_ ring. _The_ ring is in a safe and under seal. Thatis but a facsimile. But, Miss M'Crimman, the ring in question did not, Ihave reason to believe, belong to the priest Stewart, nor was it ever wornby him. '

'How strangely you talk and look, Mr. Townley!'

'Whatever I say to you now, Miss M'Crimman, I wish you to considersacred. '

The lady laughed, but not lightly. 

'Do you think, ' she said, 'I can keep a secret?'

'I do, Miss M'Crimman, and I want a friend and occasional adviser. '

'Go on, Mr. Townley. You may depend on me. '

'All we know, or at least all he will tell us of Murdoch's--yournephew's--illness, is that he was frightened at the ruin that night. Hedid not lead us to infer--for this boy is honest--that the terror partookof the supernatural, but he seemed pleased we did so infer. '

'Yes, Mr. Townley. '

'I watched by his bedside at night, when the fever was at its hottest. Ialone listened to his ravings. Such ravings have always, so doctors tellus, a foundation in fact. He mentioned this ring over and over again. Hementioned a vault; he mentioned a name, and starting sometimes from uneasyslumber, prayed the owner of that name to spare him--to shoot him not. '

'And from this you deduce----'

'From this, ' said Townley, 'I deduce that poor Murdoch had seen that ringon the left hand of a villain who had threatened to shoot him, for somepotent reason or another, that Murdoch had seen that vault open, and thathe has been bound down by sacred oath not to reveal what he did see. '

'But oh, Mr. Townley, such oath could not, cannot be binding on the boy. We must----'

'No, we must _not_, Miss M'Crimman. We must not put pressure on Murdoch atpresent. We must not treat lightly his honest scruples. _You_ must leave_me_ to work the matter out in my own way. Only, whenever I need yourassistance or friendship to aid me, I may ask for it, may I not?'

'Indeed you may, Mr. Townley. '

Her hand lay for one brief moment in his; then they got up silently andresumed their walk. 

Both were thinking now. 

CHAPTER V. 

A NEW HOME IN THE WEST. 

To-night, before I entered my tower-room study and sat down to continueour strange story, I was leaning over the battlements and gazingadmiringly at the beautiful sunset effects among the hills and on thelake, when my aunt came gliding to my side. She always comes in thisspirit-like way. 

'May I say one word, ' she said, 'without interrupting the train of yourthoughts?'

'Yes, dear aunt, ' I replied; 'speak as you please--say what you will. '

'I have been reading your manuscript, Murdoch, and I think it is high timeyou should mention that the M'Raes of Strathtoul were in no degreeconnected with or voluntarily mixed up in the villainy that banished yourpoor father from Castle Coila. '

'It shall be as you wish, ' I said, and then Aunt Cecilia disappeared assilently as she had come. 

Aunt is right. Nor can I forget that--despite the long-lasting andunfortunate blood-feud--the Strathtouls were and are our kinsmen. It isdue to them to add that they ever acted honourably, truthfully; that therewas but one villain, and whatever of villainy was transacted was his. NeedI say his name was Duncan M'Rae? A M'Rae of Strathtoul? No; I am glad andproud to say he was not. I even doubt if he had any right or title to thename at all. It may have been but an _alias_. An _alias_ is often of thegreatest use to such a man as this Duncan; so is an _alibi_ at times!

I have already mentioned the school in the glen which my father the chiefhad built. M'Rae was one of its first teachers. He was undoubtedly clever, and, though he had not come to Coila without a little cloud on hischaracter, his plausibility and his capability prevailed upon my father togive him a chance. There used at that time to be services held in theschool on Sunday evenings, to which the most humbly dressed peasant couldcome. Humble though they were, they invariably brought their mite for thecollection. It was dishonesty--even sacrilegious dishonesty--in Duncan toappropriate such moneys to his use, and to falsify the books. It isneedless to say he was dismissed, and ever after he bore little good-willto the M'Crimmans of Coila. 

He had now to live on his wits. His wits led him to dishonesty of adifferent sort--he became a noted poacher. His quarrels with theglen-keepers often led to ugly fights and to bloodshed, but never toDuncan's reform. He lived and lodged with old Mawsie. It suited him to doso for several reasons, one of which was that she had, as I have alreadysaid, an ill-name, and the keepers were superstitious; besides, her housewas but half a mile from a high road, along which a carrier passed once aweek on his way to a distant town, and Duncan nearly always had amysterious parcel for him. 

The poacher wanted a safe or store for his ill-gotten game. What betterplace than the floor of the ruined church? While digging there, to hissurprise he had discovered a secret vault or cell; the roof and sides hadfallen in, but masons could repair them. Such a place would be invaluablein his craft if it could be kept secret, and he determined it should be. After this, strange lights were said to be seen sometimes by belatedtravellers flitting among the old graves; twice also a ghost had been meton the hill adjoining--some _thing_ at least that disappeared immediatelywith eldritch scream. 

It was shortly after this that Duncan had imported two men to do what theycalled 'a bit of honest work. ' Duncan had lodged and fed them at Mawsie's;they worked at night, and when they had done the 'honest work, ' he tookthem to Invergowen and shipped them back to Aberdeen. 

But the poacher's discovery of the priest's Bible turned his thoughts to aplan of enriching himself far more effectually and speedily than he evercould expect to do by dealing in game without a licence. 

At the same time Duncan had found the poor priest's modest store of wine. A less scientific villain would have made short work with this, but thepoacher knew better at present than to 'put an enemy in his mouth to stealaway his brains;' besides, the vault would look more natural, whenafterwards 'discovered, ' with a collection of old bottles of wine in it. 

To forge an entry on one of the fly-leaves of the book was no difficulttask, nor was it difficult to deal with Mawsie so as to secure the end hehad in view in the most natural way. Once again his villain-wit showed itsascendency. A person of little acumen would have sought to work upon theold lady's greed--would have tried to bribe her to say this or that, or toswear to anything. But well Duncan knew how treacherous is the agedmemory, and yet how easily acted on. He began by talking much about the LeRoi marriage which had taken place when she was a girl. He put words inthe old lady's mouth without seeming to do so; he manufactured anartificial memory for her, and neatly fitted it. 

'Surely, mother, ' he would say, 'you remember the marriage that took placein the chapel at midnight--the rich soldier, you know, Le Roi, and thebonnie M'Crimman lady? You're not so _very_ old as to forget that. '

'Heigho! it's a long time ago, _ma yhillie og_, a long time ago, and I wasyoung. '

'True, but old people remember things that happened when they were youngbetter than more recent events. '

They talked in Gaelic, so I am not giving their exact words. 

'Ay, ay, lad--ay, ay! And, now that you mention it, I do remember itwell--the lassie M'Crimman and the bonnie, bonnie gentleman. '

'Gave you a guinea--don't you remember?'

'Ay, ay, the dear man!'

'Is this it?' continued Duncan, holding up a golden coin. 

Her eyes gloated over the money, her birdlike claw clutched it; she'crooned' over it, sang to it, rolled it in a morsel of flannel, and putit away in her bosom. 

A course of this kind of tuition had a wonderful effect on Mawsie. Afterthe marriage came the vault, and she soon remembered all that. Butprobably the guinea had more effect than anything else in fixing her mindon the supposed events of the past. 

You see, Duncan was a psychologist, and a good one, too. Pity he did notturn his talents to better use. 

The poacher's next move was to hurry up to London, and obtain an interviewwith the chief of Strathtoul's son. He seldom visited Scotland, being anofficer of the Guards--a soldier, as his grandfather had been. 

Is it any wonder that Duncan M'Rae's plausible story found a readylistener in young Le Roi, or that he was only too happy to pay the poachera large but reasonable sum for proofs which should place his father inpossession of fortune and a fine estate?

The rest was easy. A large coloured sketch was shown to old Mawsie as aportrait of the Le Roi who had been married in the old chapel in hergirlhood. It was that of his grandson, who shortly after visited the manseand the ruin. 

Duncan was successful beyond his utmost expectations. Only 'the wickedflee when no man pursueth' them, and this villain could not feel easywhile he remained at home. Two things preyed on his mind--first, themeeting with myself at the ruin; secondly, the loss of his ring. Probablyhad the two men not interfered that night he would have made short work ofme. As for the ring, he blamed his own carelessness for losing it. It wasa dead man's ring; would it bring him ill-luck?

So he fled--or departed--put it as you please; but, singular to say, oldMawsie was found dead in her house the day _after_ he had been seen totake his departure from the glen. It was said she had met her death bypremeditated violence; but who could have slain the poor old crone, andfor what reason? It was more charitable and more reasonable to believethat she had fallen and died where she was found. So the matter had beenallowed to rest. What could it matter to Mawsie?

Townley alone had different and less charitable views about the matter. Meanwhile Townley's bird had flown. But everything comes to him who canwait, and--there was no tiring Townley. 

 * * * * *

A year or two flew by quickly enough. I know what that year or two did forme--_it made me a man!_

Not so much in stature, perhaps--I was young, barely seventeen--but a manin mind, in desire, in ambition, and in brave resolve. Do not imagine thatI had been very happy since leaving Coila; my mind was racked by athousand conflicting thoughts that often kept me awake at night when allothers were sunk in slumber. Something told me that the doings of thatnight at the ruin had undone our fortunes, and I was bound by solemnpromise never to divulge what I had seen or what I knew. A hundred timesover I tried to force myself to the belief that the poacher was only apoacher, and not a villain of deeper dye, but all in vain. 

Time, however, is the _edax rerum_--the devourer of all things, even ofgrief and sorrow. Well, I saw my father and mother and Flora happy intheir new home, content with their new surroundings, and I began to takeheart. But to work I must go. What should I do? What should I be? Thequestions were answered in a way I had little dreamt of. 

One evening, about eight o'clock, while passing along a street in the newtown, I noticed well-dressed mechanics and others filing into a hall, where, it was announced, a lecture was to be delivered--

 'A NEW HOME IN THE WEST. '

Such was the heading of the printed bills. Curiosity led me to enter withothers. 

I listened entranced. The lecture was a revelation to me. The 'New Home inthe West' was the Argentine Republic, and the speaker was brimful of hissubject, and brimful to overflowing with the rugged eloquence that goesstraight to the heart. 

There was wealth untold in the silver republic for those who were healthy, young, and willing to work--riches enough to be had for the digging to buyall Scotland up--riches of grain, of fruit, of spices, of skins and wooland meat--wealth all over the surface of the new home--wealth _in_ theearth and bursting through it--wealth and riches everywhere. 

And beauty everywhere too--beauty of scenery, beauty of woods and wildflowers; of forest stream and sunlit skies. Why stay in Scotland whenwealth like this was to be had for the gathering? England was a gloriouscountry, but its very over-population rendered it a poor one, and poorerit was growing every day. 

 'Hark! old Ocean's tongue of thunder, Hoarsely calling, bids you speed To the shores he held asunder Only for these times of need. Now, upon his friendly surges Ever, ever roaring "Come, " All the sons of hope he urges To a new, a richer home. 

 There, instead of festering alleys, Noisome dirt and gnawing dearth, Sunny hills and smiling valleys Wait to yield the wealth of earth. All she seeks is human labour, Healthy in the open air; All she gives is--every neighbour Wealthy, hale, and happy There!'

Language like this was to me simply intoxicating. I talked all next dayabout what I had heard, and when evening came I once more visited thelecture-hall, this time in company with my brothers. 

'Oh, ' said Donald, as we were returning home, 'that is the sort of work wewant. '

'Yes, ' cried Dugald the younger; 'and that is the land to go to. '

'You are so young--sixteen and fifteen--I fear I cannot take you with me, 'I put in. 

Donald stopped short in the street and looked straight in my face. 

'So _you_ mean to go, then? And you think you can go without Dugald andme? Young, are we? But won't we grow out of that? We are not town-bredbrats. Feel my arm; look at brother's lusty legs! And haven't we both gothearts--the M'Crimman heart? Ho, ho, Murdoch! big as you are, you don't gowithout Dugald and me!'

'That he sha'n't!' said Dugald, determinedly. 

'Come on up to the top of the craig, ' I said; 'I want a walk. It is onlyhalf-past nine. '

But it was well-nigh eleven before we three brothers had finishedcastle-building. 

Remember, it was not castles in the air, either, we were piling up. We hadhealth, strength, and determination, with a good share of honest ambition;and with these we believed we could gather wealth. The very thoughts ofdoing so filled me with a joy that was inexpressible. Not that I valuedmoney for itself, but because wealth, if I could but gain it, would enableme to in some measure restore the fortunes of our fallen house. 

We first consulted father. It was not difficult to secure his acquiescenceto our scheme, and he even told mother that it was unnatural to expectbirds to remain always in the parent nest. 

I have no space to detail all the outs and ins of our arguments; sufficeit to say they were successful, and preparations for our emigration weresoon commenced. One stipulation of dear mother's we were obliged to givein to--namely, that Aunt Cecilia should go with us. Aunt was very wise, though very romantic withal--a strange mixture of poetry and common-sense. My father and mother, however, had very great faith in her. Moreover, shehad already travelled all by herself half-way over the world. She hadtherefore the benefit of former experiences. But in every way we were fainto admit that aunt was eminently calculated to be our friend and mentor. She was and is clever. She could talk philosophy to us, even while darningour stockings or seeing after our linen; she could talk half a dozenlanguages, but she could talk common-sense to the cook as well; she wasfitted to mix in the very best society, but she could also mix a salad. She played entrancingly on the harp, sang well, recited Ossian's poems bythe league, had a beautiful face, and the heart of a lion, which wellbecame the sister of a chief. 

It is only fair to add that it was aunt who found the sinews of war--ourwar with fortune. She, however, made a sacrifice to our pride in promisingto consider any and all moneys spent upon us as simply loans, to be repaidwith interest when we grew rich, if not--and this was only an honeststipulation--worked off beforehand. 

But poor dear aunt, her love of travel and adventure was quite wonderful, and she had a most childlike faith in the existence and reality of the ElDorado we were going in search of. 

The parting with father, mother, and Flora was a terrible trial. I canhardly think of it yet without a feeling akin to melancholy. But we gotaway at last amid prayers and blessings and tears. A hundred times overFlora had begged us to write every week, and to make haste and get ready aplace for her and mother and father and all in our new home in the West, for she would count the days until the summons came to follow. 

Fain would honest, brawny Townley have gone with us. What an acquisitionhe would have proved! only, he told me somewhat significantly, he had workto do, and if he was successful he might follow on. I know, though, thatparting with Aunt Cecilia almost broke his big brave heart. 

There was so much to do when we arrived in London, from which port we wereto sail, so much to buy, so much to be seen, and so many people to visit, that I and my brothers had little time to revert even to the grief ofparting from all we held dear at home. 

We did not forget to pay a visit to our forty-second cousins in theirbeautiful and aristocratic mansion at the West End. Archie Bateman was ourfavourite. My brothers and I were quite agreed as to that. The othercousin--who was also the elder--was far too much swamped in _bon ton_ toplease Highland lads such as we were. 

But over and over again Archie made us tell him all we knew or had heardof the land we were going to. The first night Archie had said, 'Oh, I wish I were going too!'

The second evening his remark was, 'Why _can't_ I go?'

But on the third and last day of our stay Archie took me boldly by thehand--

'Don't tell anybody, ' he said, 'but I'm going to follow you very soon. Depend upon that. I'm only a younger son. Younger sons are nobodies inEngland. The eldest sons get all the pudding, and we have only the dish toscrape. They talk about making me a barrister. I don't mean to be made abarrister; I'd as soon be a bumbailiff. No, I'm going to follow you, cousin, so I sha'n't say good-bye--just _au revoir_. '

And when we drove away from the door, I really could not help admiring thehandsome bold-looking English lad who stood in the porch waving hishandkerchief and shouting, '_Au revoir--au revoir. _'

CHAPTER VI. 

THE PROMISED LAND AT LAST. 

'There is nothing more annoyin' than a hitch at the hin'eren'. What thinkyou, young sir?'

'I beg pardon, ' I replied, 'but I'm afraid I did not quite understandyou. '

I had been standing all alone watching our preparations for dropping downstream with the tide. What a wearisome time it had been, too!

The Canton was advertised to sail the day before, but did not. We wereassured, however, she would positively start at midnight, and we had goneto bed expecting to awake at sea. I had fallen asleep brimful of all kindsof romantic thoughts. But lo! I had been awakened early on the darkmorning of this almost wintry day with the shouting of men, the rattlingof chains, and puff-puff-puffing of that dreadful donkey-engine. 

'Oh yes, we'll be off, sure enough, about eight bells. '

This is what the steward told us after breakfast, but all the forenoon hadslipped away, and here we still were. The few people on shore who hadstayed on, maugre wind and sleet, to see the very, _very_ last of friendson board, looked very worn and miserable. 

But surely we were going at last, for everything was shipped andeverything was comparatively still--far too still, indeed, as it turnedout!

'I said I couldn't stand a hitch at the hin'eren', young sir--any troubleat the tail o' the chapter. '

I looked up--I _had_ to look up, for the speaker was a head and shouldersbigger than I--a broad-shouldered, brawny, brown-bearded Scotchman. AHighlander evidently by his brogue, but one who had travelled south, andtherefore only put a Scotch word in here and there when talking--just, hetold me afterwards, to make better sense of the English language. 

'Do I understand you to mean that something has happened to delay thevoyage?'

'I dinna care whether you understand me or not, ' he replied, with almostfierce independence, 'but we're broken down. '

It was only too true, and the news soon went all over the ship--spreadlike wild-fire, in fact. Something had gone wrong in the engine-room, andit would take a whole week to make good repairs. 

I went below to report matters to aunt and my brothers, and makepreparations for disembarking again. 

When we reached the deck we found the big Scot walking up and down withrapid, sturdy strides; but he stopped in front of me, smiling. He had animmense plaid thrown Highland-fashion across his chest and left shoulder, and clutched a huge piece of timber in his hand, which by courtesy mighthave been called a cane. 

'You'll doubtless go on shore for a spell?' he said. 'A vera judiciousarrangement. I'll go myself, and take my mither with me. And are theseyour two brotheries, and your sister? How d'ye do, miss?'

He lifted his huge tam-o'-shanter as he made these remarks--or, in otherwords, he seized it by the top and raised it into the form of a hugepyramid. 

'My aunt, ' I said, smiling. 

'A thousand pa_rr_dons, ma'am!' he pleaded, once more making a pyramid ofhis 'bonnet, ' while the colour mounted to his brow. 'A thousandpa_rr_dons!'

Like most of his countrymen, he spoke broader when taken off his guard orwhen excited. At such times the _r_'s were thundered or rolled out. 

Aunt Cecilia smiled most graciously, and I feel sure she did not object tobe mistaken for our sister. 

'It seems, ' he added, 'we are to be fellow-passengers. My name isMoncrieff, and if ever I can be of the slightest service to you, praycommand me. '

'You mentioned your mother, ' said aunt, by way of saying something. 'Isthe old--I mean, is she going with you?'

'What else, what else? And you wouldn't be wrong in calling her "old"either. My mither's no' a spring chicken, but--she's a marvel. Ay, mither's a marvel. '

'I presume, sir, you've been out before?'

'I've lived for many years in the Silver West. I've made a bit of money, but I couldn't live a year longer without my mither, so I just camestraight home to take her out. I think when you know my mither you'llagree with me--she's a marvel. '

On pausing here for a minute to review a few of the events of my pastlife, I cannot agree with those pessimists who tell us we are the victimsof chance; that our fates and our fortunes have nothing more certain toguide them to a good or a bad end than yonder thistle-down which is thesport of the summer breeze. 

When I went on board the good ship Canton, had any one told me that in afew days more I would be standing by the banks of Loch Coila, I would havelaughed in his face. 

Yet so it was. Aunt and Donald stayed in London, while I and Dugald formedthe strange resolve of running down and having one farewell glance atCoila. I seemed impelled to do so, but how or by what I never could say. 

No; we did not go near Edinburgh. Good-byes had been said, why should werehearse again all the agony of parting?

Nor did we show ourselves to many of the villagers, and those who did seeus hardly knew us in our English dress. 

Just one look at the lake, one glance at the old castle, and we should begone, never more to set foot in Coila. 

And here we were close by the water, almost under shadow of our own oldhome. It was a forenoon in the end of February, but already thelarch-trees were becoming tinged with tender green, a balmy air wentwhispering through the drooping silver birches, the sky was blue, fleckedonly here and there with fleecy clouds that cast shadow-patches on thelake. Up yonder a lark was singing, in adjoining spruce thickets we couldhear the croodle of the ringdove, and in the swaying branches of the elmsthe solemn-looking rooks were already building their nests. Dugald and Iwere lying on the moss. 

'Spring always comes early to dear Coila, ' I was saying; 'and I'm so gladthe ship broke down, just to give me a chance of saying "Good-bye" to theloch. You, Dugald, did say "Good-bye" to it, you know, but I never had achance. 

Ahem! We were startled by the sound of a little cough right behind us--asort of made cough, such as people do when they want to attractattention. 

Standing near us was a gentleman of soldierly bearing, but certainly nothaughty in appearance, for he was smiling. He held a book in his hand, andon his arm leant a beautiful young girl, evidently his daughter, for bothhad blue eyes and fair hair. 

Dugald and I had started to our feet, and for the life of me I could nothelp feeling awkward. 

'I fear, ' I stammered, 'we are trespassing. But--but my brother and I randown from London to say good-bye to Coila. We will go at once. '

'Stay one moment, ' said the gentleman. 'Do not run away withoutexplaining. You have been here before?'

'We are the young M'Crimmans of Coila, sir. '

I spoke sadly--I trust not fiercely. 

'Pardon me, but something seemed to tell me you were. We are pleased tomeet you. Irene, my daughter. It is no fault of ours--at least, ofmine--that your family and the M'Raes were not friendly long ago. '

'But my father _would_ have made friends with the chief of Strathtoul, ' Isaid. 

'Yes, and mine had old Highland prejudices. But look, yonder comes athunder-shower. You _must_ stay till it is over. '

'I feel, sir, ' I said, 'that I am doing wrong, and that I have done wrong. My father, even, does not know we are here. _He_ has prejudices now, too, '

'Well, ' said the officer, laughing, 'my father is in France. Let us bothbe naughty boys. You must come and dine with me and my daughter, anyhow. Bother old-fashioned blood-feuds! We must not forget that we are living inthe nineteenth century. '

I hesitated a moment, then I glanced at the girl, and next minute we wereall walking together towards the castle. 

We did stop to dinner, nor did we think twice about leaving that night. The more I saw of these, our hereditary enemies, the more I liked them. Irene was very like Flora in appearance and manner, but she had a greaterknowledge of the world and all its ways. She was very beautiful. Yes, Ihave said so already, but somehow I cannot help saying it again. Shelooked older than she really was, and taller than most girls of fourteen. 

'Well, ' I said in course of the evening, 'it _is_ strange my being here. '

'It is only the fortune of war our both being here, ' said M'Rae. 

'I wonder, ' I added, 'how it will all end!'

'If it would only end as I should wish, it would end very pleasantlyindeed. But it will not. You will write filially and tell your good fatherof your visit. He will write cordially, but somewhat haughtily, to thankus. That will be all. Oh, Highland blood is very red, and Highland prideis very high. Well, at all events, Murdoch M'Crimman--if you will let mecall you by your name without the "Mr. "--we shall never forget your visit, shall we, darling?'

I looked towards Miss M'Rae. Her answer was a simple 'No'; but I was muchsurprised to notice that her eyes were full of tears, which she tried invain to conceal. 

I saw tears in her eyes next morning as we parted. Her father said'Good-bye' so kindly that my whole heart went out to him on the spot. 

'I'm not sorry I came, ' I said; 'and, sir, ' I added, 'as far as you and Iare concerned, the feud is at an end?'

'Yes, yes; and better so. And, ' he continued, 'my daughter bids me saythat she is happy to have seen you, that she is going to think about youvery often, and is so sorrowful you poor lads should have to go away to aforeign land to seek your fortune while we remain at Coila. That is thedrift of it, but I fear I have not said it prettily enough to pleaseIrene. Good-bye. '

We had found fine weather at Coila, and we brought it back with us toLondon. There was no hitch this time in starting. The Canton got awayearly in the morning, even before breakfast. The last person to come onboard was the Scot, Moncrieff. He came thundering across the plank gangwaywith strides like a camel, bearing something or somebody rolled in atartan plaid. 

Dugald and I soon noticed two little legs dangling from one end of thebundle and a little old face peeping out of the other. It was his motherundoubtedly. 

He put her gently down when he gained the deck, and led her away amidshipssomewhere, and there the two disappeared. Presently Moncrieff came backalone and shook hands with us in the most friendly way. 

'I've just disposed of my mither, ' he said, as if she had been a piece ofgoods and he had sold her. 'I've just disposed of the poor dear creature, and maybe she won't appear again till we're across the bay. '

'You did not take the lady below?'

'There's no' much of the lady about my mither, though I'm doing all I canto make her one. No; I didn't take her below. Fact is, we have stateapartments, as you might say, for I've rented the second lieutenant's andpurser's cabins. There they are, cheek-by-jowl, as cosy as wrens'-nests, just abaft the cook's galley amidships yonder. '

'Well, ' I said, 'I hope your mother will be happy and enjoy the voyage. '

'Hurrah!' shouted the Scot; 'we're off at last! Now for a fair wind and aclear sea to the shores of the Silver West. I'll run and tell my mitherwe're off. '

That evening the sun sank on the western waves with a crimson glory thatspoke of fine weather to follow. We were steaming down channel with justenough sail set to give us some degree of steadiness. 

Though my brothers and I had never been to sea before, we had been used toroughing it in storms around the coast and on Loch Coila, and probablythis may account for our immunity from that terror of the ocean, _mal-de-mer_. As for aunt, she was an excellent sailor. The saloon, whenwe went below to dinner, was most gay, beautifully lighted, and veryhome-like. The officers present were the captain, the surgeon, and onelieutenant. The captain was president, while the doctor occupied the chairof _vice_. Both looked thorough sailors, and both appeared as happy askings. There seemed also to exist a perfect understanding between thepair, and their remarks and anecdotes kept the passengers in excellentgood humour during dinner. 

The doctor had been the first to enter, and he came sailing in with aunt, whom he seated on his right hand. Now aunt was the only young lady amongthe passengers, and she certainly had dressed most becomingly. I could nothelp admiring her--so did the doctor, but so also did the captain. 

When he entered he gave his surgeon a comical kind of a look and shook hishead. 

'Walked to windward of me, I see!' he said. 'Miss M'Crimman, ' he added, 'we don't, as a rule, keep particular seats at table in this ship. '

'Don't believe a word he says, Miss M'Crimman!' cried the doctor. 'Look, he's laughing! He never is serious when he smiles like that. Steward, whatis the number of this chair?'

'Fifteen, sir. '

'Fifteen, Miss M'Crimman, and you won't forget it; and this table-napkinring, observe, is Gordon tartan, green and black and orange. '

'Miss M'Crimman, ' the captain put in, as if the doctor had not said aword, 'to-morrow evening, for example, you will have the honour to sit onmy right. '

'Honour, indeed!' laughed the doctor. 

'The honour to sit on my right. You will find I can tell much betterstories than old Conserve-of-roses there; and I feel certain you will notsit anywhere else all the voyage!'

'Ah, stay one moments!' cried a merry-looking little Spaniard, who hadjust entered and seated himself quietly at the table; 'the young lady weelnot always sit dere, or dere, for sometime she weel have de honour to sitat my right hand, for example, eh, capitan?'

There was a hearty laugh at these words, and after this, every one seemedon the most friendly terms with every one else, and willing to serve everyone else first and himself last. This is one good result that accrues fromtravelling, and I have hardly ever yet known a citizen of the world whocould be called selfish. 

There were three other ladies at table to-night, each of whom sat by herhusband's side. Though they were all in what Dr. Spinks afterwards termedthe sere and yellow leaf, both he and the good captain really vied witheach other in paying kindly attention to their wants. 

So pleasantly did this our first dinner on board pass over that by thetime we had risen from our seats we felt, one and all, as if we had knowneach other for a very long time indeed. 

Next came our evening concert. One of the married ladies playedexceedingly well, and the little Spanish gentleman sang like a minor SimsReeves. 

'Your sister sings, I feel sure, ' he said to me. 

'My aunt plays the harp and sings, ' I answered. 

'And the harp--you have him?'

'Yes. '

'Oh, bring him--bring him! I do love de harp!'

While my aunt played and sang, it would have been difficult to say whichof her audience listened with the most delighted attention. The doctor'sface was a study; the captain looked tenderly serious; Captain Bombazo, the black-moustachioed Spaniard, was animation personified; his dark eyessparkled like diamonds, his very eyelids appeared to snap with pleasure. Even the stewards and stewardess lingered in the passage to listen withrespectful attention, so that it is no wonder we boys were proud of ourclever aunt. 

When she ceased at last there was that deep silence which is far moreeloquent than applause. The first to break it was Moncrieff. 

'Well, ' he said, with a deep sigh, 'I never heard the like o' thatafore!'

The friendly relations thus established in the saloon lasted all thevoyage long--so did the captain's, the doctor's, and little Spanishofficer's attentions to my aunt. She had made a triple conquest; threehearts, to speak figuratively, lay at her feet. 

Our voyage was by no means a very eventful one, and but little differentfrom thousands of others that take place every month. 

Some degree of merriment was caused among the men, when, on the fourthday, big Moncrieff led his mother out to walk the quarter-deck leaning onhis arm. She was indeed a marvel. It would have been impossible even toguess at her age; for though her face was as yellow as a withered lemon, and as wrinkled as a Malaga rasin, she walked erect and firm, and wasaltogether as straight as a rush. She was dressed with an eye to comfort, for, warm though the weather was getting, her cloak was trimmed with fur. On her head she wore a neat old-fashioned cap, and in her hand carried ahuge green umbrella, which evening and morning she never laid down exceptat meals. 

[Illustration: 'I'll teach ye!']

This umbrella was a weapon of offence as well as defence. We had proof ofthat on the very first day, for as he passed along the deck the secondsteward had the bad manners to titter. Next moment the umbrella haddescended with crushing force on his head, and he lay sprawling in the leescuppers. 

'I'll teach ye, ' she said, 'to laugh at an auld wife, you gang-the-gateswinger. '

'Mither! mither!' pleaded Moncrieff, 'will you never be able to behavelike a lady?'

The steward crawled forward crestfallen, and the men did not let himforget his adventure in a hurry. 

'Mither's a ma_rr_vel, ' Moncrieff whispered to me more than once thatevening, for at table no 'laird's lady' could have behaved so well, albeither droll remarks and repartee kept us all laughing. After dinner it wasjust the same--there were no bounds to her good-nature, her excellentspirits and comicality. Even when asked to sing she was by no means takenaback, but treated us to a ballad of five-and-twenty verses, with a chorusto each; but as it told a story of love and war, of battle and siege, ofvillainy for a time in the ascendant, and virtue triumphant at the end, itreally was not a bit wearisome; and when Moncrieff told us that she couldsing a hundred more as good, we all agreed that his mother was indeed amarvel. 

I have said the voyage was uneventful, but this is talking as one who hasbeen across the wide ocean many times and oft. No long voyage can beuneventful; but nothing very dreadful happened to mar our passage to Riode Janeiro. We were not caught in a tornado; we were not chased by apirate; we saw no suspicious sail; no ghostly voice hailed us from aloftat the midnight hour; no shadowy form beckoned us from a fog. We did noteven spring a leak, nor did the mainyard come tumbling down. But we _did_have foul weather off Finisterre; a man _did_ fall overboard, and was dulypicked up again; a shark _did_ follow the ship for a week, but got nocorpse to devour, only the contents of the cook's pail, sundry bulletsfrom sundry revolvers, and, finally, a red-hot brick rolled in a bit ofblanket. Well, of course, a man fell from aloft and knocked his shoulderout--a man always does--and Mother Carey's chickens flew around our stern, boding bad weather, which never came, and shoals of porpoises dancedaround us at sunset, and we saw huge whales pursuing their solitary paththrough the bosom of the great deep, and we breakfasted off flying fish, and caught Cape pigeons, and wondered at the majestic flight of thealbatross; and we often saw lightning without hearing thunder, and heardthunder without seeing lightning; and in due course we heard the thrillingshout from aloft of 'Land ho!' and heard the officer of the watch singout, 'Where away?'

And lo and behold! three or four hours afterwards we were all on deckmarvelling at the rugged grandeur of the shores of Rio, and the wondroussteeple-shaped mountain that stands sentry for ever and ever and ever atthe entrance to the marvellous haven. 

When this was in sight, Moncrieff rushed off into the cabin and bore hismother out. 

He held the old lady aloft, on one arm, shouting, as he pointedlandwards--

'Look, mither, look! the Promised Land! Our new home in the Silver West!'

CHAPTER VII. 

ON SHORE AT RIO. 

It was well on in the afternoon when land was sighted, but so accuratelyhad the ship been navigated for all the long, pleasant weeks of our voyagethat both the captain and his first officer might easily have been excusedfor showing a little pride in their seamanship. Your British sailor, however, is always a modest man, and there was not the slightest approachto bombast. The ship was now slowed, for we could not cross the bar thatnight. 

At the dinner-table we were all as merry as schoolboys on the eve of aholiday. Old Jenny, as Moncrieff's mother had come to be called, was inexcellent spirits, and her droll remarks not only made us laugh, butrendered it very difficult indeed for the stewards to wait with anythingapproaching to _sang-froid_. Moncrieff was quietly happy. He seemedpleased his mother was so great a favourite. Aunt, in her tropical toilet, looked angelic. The adjective was applied by our mutual friend CaptainRoderigo de Bombazo, and my brothers and I agreed that he had spoken thetruth for once in a way. Did he not always speak the truth? it may beasked. I am not prepared to accuse the worthy Spaniard of deliberatefalsehood, but if everything he told us was true, then he must indeed havecome through more wild and terrible adventures, and done more travellingand more fighting, than any lion-hunter that ever lived and breathed. 

He was highly amusing nevertheless, and as no one, with the exception ofJenny, ever gave any evidence of doubting what he said and relatedconcerning his strange career, he was encouraged to carry on; and even theexploits of Baron Munchausen could not have been compared to some of his. I think it used to hurt his feelings somewhat that old Jenny listened sostolidly to his relations, for he used to cater for her opinion at times. 

'Ah!' Jenny would say, 'you're a wonderful mannie wi' your way o't! Andwhat a lot you've come through! I wonder you have a hair in your heed!'

'But the señora believes vot I say?'

'Believe ye? If a' stories be true, yours are no lees, and I'm not goin'ahint your back to tell ye, sir. '

Once, on deck, he was drawing the long-bow, as the Yankees call it, at aprodigious rate. He was telling how, once upon a time, he had caught ayoung alligator; how he had tamed it and fed it till it grew a monstertwenty feet long; how he used to saddle it and bridle it, and ride throughthe streets of Tulcora on its back--men, women, and children screaming andflying in all directions; how, armed only with his good sabre, he rode itinto a lake which was infested with these dread saurians; how he wasattacked in force by the awful reptiles, and how he had killed and woundedso many that they lay dead in dozens next day along the banks. 

'Humph!' grunted old Jenny when he had finished. 

The little captain put the questions, 'Ah! de aged señora not believe! De aged señora not have seen much of deworld?'

Jenny had grasped her umbrella. 

'Look here, my mannie, ' she said, 'I'll gie ye a caution; dinna you referto my age again, or I'll "aged-snorer" you. If ye get the weight o' mygingham on your shou'ders, ye'll think a coo has kick't ye--so mind. '

And the Spanish captain had slunk away very unlike a lion-hunter, but henever called Jenny old again. 

To-night, however, even before we had gone below, Jenny had given proofsthat she was in an extra good temper, for being a little way behindBombazo--as if impelled by some sudden and joyous impulse--she lifted thateverlasting umbrella and hit him a friendly thwack that could be heardfrom bowsprit to binnacle. 

'Tell as mony lees the nicht as ye like, my mannie, ' she cried, 'and I'llnever contradict ye, for I've seen the promised land!'

'And so, captain, you must stay at Rio a whole week?' said my aunt atdessert. 

'Yes, Miss M'Crimman, ' replied the captain. 'Are you pleased?'

'I'm delighted. And I propose that we get up a grand picnic in "thepromised land, " as good old Jenny calls it. '

And so it was arranged. Bombazo and Dr. Spinks, having been at Rio deJaneiro before, were entrusted with the organization of the 'pig-neeg, ' asBombazo called it, and held their first consultation on ways and meansthat very evening. Neither I nor my brothers were admitted to thismeeting, though aunt was. Nevertheless, we felt confident the picnic wouldbe a grand success, for, to a late hour, men were hurrying fore and aft, and the stewards were up to their eyes packing baskets and makingpreparations, while from the cook's gally gleams of rosy light shot outevery time the door was opened, to say nothing of odours so appetisingthat they would have awakened Van Winkle himself. 

Before we turned in, we went on deck to have a look at the night. It wascertainly full of promise. We were not far from the shore--near enough tosee a long line of white which we knew was breakers, and to hear theirdeep sullen boom as they spent their fury on the rocks. The sky wasstudded with brilliant stars--far more bright, we thought them, than anywe ever see in our own cold climate. Looking aloft, the tall masts seemedto mix and mingle with the stars at every roll of the ship. The moon, too, was as bright as silver in the east, its beams making strange quiveringlines and crescents in each approaching wave. And somewhere--yonder amongthose wondrous cone-shaped hills, now bathed in this purple moonlight--laythe promised land, the romantic town of Rio, which to-morrow we shouldvisit. 

We went below, and, as if by one accord, my brothers and I knelt downtogether to thank the Great Power on high who had guided us safely overthe wide illimitable ocean, and to implore His blessing on those at home, and His guidance on all our future wanderings. 

Early next morning we were awakened by a great noise on deck, and the dashand turmoil of breaking water. The rudder-chains, too, were constantlyrattling as the men at the wheel obeyed the shouts of the officer of thewatch. 

'Starboard a little!'

'Starboard it is, sir!'

'Easy as you go! Steady!'

'Steady it is, sir!'

'Port a little! Steady!'

Then came a crash that almost flung us out of our beds. Before we gainedthe deck of our cabin there was another, and still another. Had we run onshore? We dreaded to ask each other. 

But just then the steward, with kindly thought, drew back our curtain andreassured us. 

'We're only bumping over the bar, young gentlemen--we'll be in smoothwater in a jiffey. '

We were soon all dressed and on deck. We were passing the giant hillcalled Sugar Loaf, and the mountains seemed to grow taller and taller, andto frown over us as we got nearer. 

Once through the entrance, the splendid bay itself lay spread out beforeus in all its silver beauty. Full twenty miles across it is, andeverywhere surrounded by the grandest hills imaginable. Not even in ourdreams could we have conceived of such a noble harbour, for here not onlycould all the fleets in the world lie snug, but even cruise and manoeuvre. Away to the west lay the picturesque town itself, its houses and publicbuildings shining clear in the morning sun, those nearest nestling in abeauty of tropical foliage I have never seen surpassed. 

My brothers and I felt burning to land at once, but regulations must becarried out, and before we had cleared the customs, and got a clean billof health, the day was far spent. Our picnic must be deferred tillto-morrow. 

However, we could land. 

As they took their seats in the boat and she was rowed shoreward, Inoticed that Donald and Dugald seemed both speechless with delight andadmiration; as for me, I felt as if suddenly transported to a new world. And such a world--beauty and loveliness everywhere around us! How should Iever be able to describe it, I kept wondering--how give dear old motherand Flora any notion, even the most remote, of the delight instilled intoour souls by all we saw and felt in this strange, strange land! Withoutdoubt, the beauty of our surroundings constitutes one great factor in ourhappiness, wherever we are. 

When we landed--indeed, before we landed--while the boat was stillskimming over the purple waters, the green mountains appearing to mingleand change places every moment as we were borne along, I felt conquered, if I may so express it, by the enchantment of my situation. I gave in myallegiance to the spirit of the scene, I abandoned all thoughts of beingable to describe anything, I abandoned myself to enjoyment. _Laisserfaire_, I said to my soul, is to live. Every creature, every being hereseems happy. To partake of the _dolce far niente_ appears the whole aimand object of their lives. 

And so I stepped on shore, regretting somewhat that Flora was not here, feeling how utterly impossible it would be to write that 'good letter'home descriptive of this wondrous medley of tropical life and loveliness, but somewhat reckless withal, and filled with a determination to give fullrein to my sense of pleasure. I could not help wondering, however, ifeverything I saw was real. Was I in a dream, from which I should presentlybe rudely awakened by the rattle and clatter of the men hauling up ashes, and find myself in bed on board the Canton? Never mind, I would enjoy itwere it even a dream. 

What a motley crowd of people of every colour! How jolly those negroeslook! How gaily the black ladies are dressed! How the black men laugh!What piles of fruit and green stuff! What a rich, delicious, warm aromahovers everywhere!

An interpreter? You needn't ask _me_. I'm not in charge. Ask my aunt here;but she herself can talk many languages. Or ask that tall brawny Scot, whois hustling the darkies about as if South America all belonged to him. 

'A carriage, Moncrieff? Oh, this is delightful! Auntie, dear, let me helpyou on board. Hop in, Dugald. Jump, Donald. No, no, Moncrieff, I mean tohave the privilege of sitting beside the driver. Off we go. Hurrah! Do youlike it, Donald? But aren't the streets rough! I won't talk any more; Iwant to watch things. '

I wonder, though, if Paradise itself was a bit more lovely than thegardens we catch glimpses of as we drive along?

How cool they look, though the sun is shining in a blue and cloudless sky!What dark shadows those gently waving palm-trees throw! Look at thosecottage verandahs! Look, oh, look at the wealth of gorgeous flowers--theclimbing, creeping, wreathing flowers! What colours! What fantasticshapes! What a merry mood Nature must have been in when she framed themso! And the perfume from those fairy gardens hangs heavy on the air; thedelicious balmy breeze that blows through the green, green palm-leaves isnot sufficient to waft away the odour of that orange blossom. Behold thosebeautiful children in groups, on terraces and lawns, at windows, or inverandahs--so gaily are they dressed that they themselves might bemistaken for bouquets of lovely flowers!

I wonder what the names of all those strange blossom-bearing shrubs are. But, bah! who would bother about names of flowers on a day like this? Thebutterflies do not, and the bees do not. Are those really butterflies, though--really and truly? Are they not gorgeously painted fans, waved andwafted by fairies, themselves unseen?

The people we meet chatter gaily as we pass, but they do not appear topossess a deal of curiosity; they are too contented for anything. All lifehere must be one delicious round of enjoyment. And nobody surely ever dieshere; I do not see how they could. 

'Is this a cave we are coming to, Moncrieff? What is that long row ofcolumns and that high, green, vaulted roof, through which hardly a ray ofsunshine can struggle? Palm-trees! Oh, Moncrieff, what glorious palms! Andthere is life upon life there, for the gorgeous trees, not apparentlysatisfied with their own magnificence of shape and foliage, must arraythemselves in wreaths of dazzling orchids and festoons of trailingflowers. The fairies _must_ have hung those flowers there? Do not deny it, Moncrieff!'

And here, in the Botanical Gardens, imagination must itself be dumb--sucha wild wealth of all that is charming in the vegetable and animalcreation. 

'Donald, go your own road. Dugald, go yours; let us wander alone. We maymeet again some day. It hardly matters whether we do or not. I'm in adream, and I don't think I want to awaken for many a long year. '

I go wandering away from my brothers, away from every one. 

A fountain is sending its spray aloft till the green drooping branches ofthe bananas and those feathery tree-ferns are everywhere spangled withdiamonds. I will rest here. I wish I could catch a few of those wondrousbutterflies, or even one of those fairylike humming-birds--mere sparks oflight and colour that flit and buzz from flower to flower. I wish Icould--that I--I mean--I--wish--'

'Hullo! Murdoch. Where are you? Why, here he is at last, sound asleepunder an orange-tree!'

It is my wild Highland brothers. They have both been shaking me by theshoulders. I sit up and rub my eyes. 

'Do you know we've been looking for you for over an hour?'

'Ah, Dugald!' I reply, 'what is an hour, one wee hour, in a place likethis?'

We must now go to visit the market-place, and then we are going to thehotel to dine and sleep. 

The market is a wondrously mixed one, and as wondrously foreign andstrange as it is possible to conceive. The gay dresses of the women--someof whom are as black as an ebony ball; their gaudy head-gear; theirglittering but tinselled ornaments; their round laughing faces, in whichshine rows of teeth as white perhaps as alabaster; the jaunty men folks;the world of birds and beasts, all on the best of terms with themselves, especially the former, arrayed in all the colours of the rainbow; theworld of fruit, tempting in shape, in beauty, and in odour; the world offish, some of them beautiful enough to have dwelt in the coral caves offairyland beneath the glittering sea--some ugly, even hideous enough to bethe creatures of a demon's dream, and some, again, so odd-looking or sogrotesque as to make one smile or laugh outright;--the whole made up apicture that even now I have but to close my eyes to see again!

When night falls the streets get for a time more crowded; side-pathshardly exist--at all events, the inhabitants show their independence bycrowding along the centre of the streets. Not much light to guide them, though, except where from open doors or windows the rays from lamps shootout into the darkness. 

Away to the hotel. A dinner in a delightfully cool, large room, a punkahwaving overhead, brilliant lights, joy on all our faces, a dessert fit toset before a king. Now we shall know how those strange fruits taste, whoseperfume hung around the market to-day. To bed at last in a room scentedwith orange-blossoms, and around the windows of which the sweetstephanotis clusters in beauty--to bed, to sleep, and dream of all we havedone and seen. 

We awaken--at least, I do--in the morning with a glad sensation ofanticipated pleasure. What is it? Oh yes, the picnic!

But it is no ordinary picnic. It lasts for three long days and nights, during which we drive by day through scenes of enchantment apparently, andsleep by night under canvas, wooed to slumber by the wind whispering inthe waving trees. 

'Moncrieff, ' I say on the second day, 'I should like to live here for everand ever and ever. '

'Man!' replies Moncrieff, 'I'm glad ye enjoy it, and so does my mitherhere. But dinna forget, lads, that hard work is all before us when wereach Buenos Ayres. '

'But I will, and I _shall_ forget, Moncrieff, ' I cry. 'This country isfull of forgetfulness. Away with all thoughts of work; let us revel in thesunshine like the bees, and the birds, and the butterflies. '

'Revel away, then, ' says Moncrieff; and dear aunt smiles languidly. 

On the last day of 'the show, ' as Dugald called it, and while our muleteam is yet five good miles from town, clouds dark and threatening bankrapidly up in the west. The driver lashes the beasts and encourages themwith shout and cry to do their speedy utmost; but the storm breaks over usin all its fury, the thunder seems to rend the very mountains, the rainpours down in white sheets, the lightning runs along the ground and looksas if it would set the world on fire; the wind goes tearing through thetrees, bending the palms like reeds, rending the broad banana-leaves toribbons; branches crack and fall down, and the whole air is filled withwhirling fronds and foliage. 

Moncrieff hastily envelopes his mother in that Highland plaid till noughtis visible of the old lady save the nose and one twinkling eye. We laughin spite of the storm. Louder and louder roars the thunder, faster andfaster fly the mules, and at last we are tearing along the desertedstreets, and hastily draw up our steaming steeds at the hotel door. Andthat is almost all I remember of Rio; and to-morrow we are off to sea oncemore. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

MONCRIEFF RELATES HIS EXPERIENCES. 

Our life at sea had been like one long happy dream. That, at all events, is how it had felt to me. 'A dream I could have wished to last for aye. ' Iwas enamoured of the ocean, and more than once I caught myself yearning tobe a sailor. There are people who are born with strange longings, strangedesires, which only a life on the ever-changing, ever-restless wavesappears to suit and soothe. To such natures the sea seems like a mother--awild, hard, harsh mother at times, perhaps, but a mother who, if shesmiles but an hour, makes them forget her stormy anger of days or weeks. 

But the dream was past and gone. And here we had settled down for a spellat Buenos Ayres. We had parted with the kindly captain and surgeon of theCanton, with many a heartily expressed hope of meeting again another day, with prayers on their side for our success in the new land, with kindliestwishes on ours for a pleasant voyage and every joy for them. 

Dear me! What a very long time it felt to look back to, since we hadbidden them 'good-bye' at home! How very old I was beginning to feel! Iasked my brothers if their feelings were the same, and found themidentical. Time had been apparently playing tricks on us. 

And yet we did not look any older in each other's eyes, only just a littlemore serious. Yes, that was it--_serious_. Even Dugald, who was usuallythe most light-hearted and merry of the three of us, looked as if he fullyappreciated the magnitude of what we had undertaken. 

Here we were, three--well, young men say, though some would have called usboys--landed on a foreign shore, without an iota of experience, withoutmuch knowledge of the country apart from that we had gleaned from books orgathered from the conversations of Bombazo and Moncrieff. And yet we hadlanded with the intention, nay, even the determination, to make our way inthe new land--not only to seek our fortunes, but to find them. 

Oh, we were not afraid! We had the glorious inheritance of courage, perseverance, and self-reliance. Here is how Donald, my brother, arguedone night:

'Look, here, Murdo, ' he said. 'This _is_ a land of milk and honey, isn'tit? Well, we're going to be the busy bees to gather it. It _is_ a silverland, isn't it? Well, we're the boys to tap it. Fortunes _are_ made here, and _have_ been made. What is done once can be done five hundred times. Whatever men dare they can do. _Quod erat demonstrandum. _'

'_Et nil desperandum_, ' added Dugald. 

'I'm not joking, I can tell you, Dugald, I'm serious now, and I mean toremain so, and stick to work--aren't you, Murdo?'

'I am, Donald. '

Then we three brothers, standing there, one might say, on the confines ofan unknown country, with all the world before us, shook hands, and ourlooks, as we gazed into each other's eyes, said--if they saidanything--'We'll do the right thing one by the other, come weal, comewoe. '

Aunt entered soon after. 

'What are you boys so serious about?' she said, laughing merrily, as sheseated herself on the couch. 'You look like three conspirators. '

'So we are, aunt. We're conspiring together to make our fortunes. '

'What! building castles in the air?'

'Oh, no, no, _no_, ' cried Donald, 'not in the air, but on the earth. Andour idols are not going to have feet of clay, I assure you, auntie, but ofsolid silver. '

'Well, we shall hope for the best. I have just parted with Mr. Moncrieff, whom I met down town. We have had a long walk together and quite a nicechat. He has made me his confidant--think of that!'

'What! you, auntie?'

'Yes, me. Who else? And that sober, honest, decent, Scot is going to takea wife. It was so good of him to tell _me_. We are all going to thewedding next week, and I'm sure I wish the dear man every happiness andjoy. '

'So do we, aunt. '

'And oh, by the way, he is coming to dine here to-night, and I feel surehe wants to give you good advice, and that means me too, of course. '

'Of course, auntie, you're one of us. '

Moncrieff arrived in good time, and brought his mother with him. 

'Ye didn't include my mither in the invitation, Miss M'Crimman, ' said theScot; 'but I knew you meant her to come. I've been so long without thepoor old creature, that I hardly care to move about without her now. '

'Poor old creature, indeed!' Mrs. Moncrieff was heard to mumble. 'Where, 'she said to a nattily dressed waiter, 'will you put my umbrella?'

'I'll take the greatest care of it, madam, ' the man replied. 

'Do, then, ' said the little old dame, 'and I may gi'e ye a penny, though Idinna mak' ony promises, mind. '

A nicer little dinner was never served, nor could a snugger room for sucha _tête-à-tête_ meal be easily imagined. It was on the ground floor, thegreat casement windows opening on to a verandah in a shady garden, wheregrass was kept green and smooth as velvet, where rare ferns grew inluxurious freedom with dwarf palms and drooping bananas, and wherestephanotis and the charming lilac bougainvillea were still in bloom. 

When the dessert was finished, and old Jenny was quite tired talking, itseemed so natural that she should curl up in an easy-chair and go off tosleep. 

'I hope my umbrella's safe, laddie, ' were her last words as her sonwrapped her in his plaid. 

'As safe as the Union Bank, ' he replied. 

So we left her there, for the waiter had taken coffee into the verandah. 

Aunt, somewhat to our astonishment, ordered cigars, and explained toMoncrieff that she did not object to smoking, but _did_ like to see menhappy. 

Moncrieff smiled. 

'You're a marvel as well as my mither, ' he said. 

He smoked on in silence for fully five minutes, but he often took thecigar from his mouth and looked at it thoughtfully; then he would allowhis eyes to follow the curling smoke, watching it with a smile on his faceas it faded into invisibility, as they say ghosts do. 

'Mr. Moncrieff, ' said aunt, archly, 'I know what you are thinking about. '

Moncrieff waved his hand through a wreath of smoke as if to clear hissight. 

'If you were a man, ' he answered, 'I'd offer to bet you couldn't guess mythoughts. I was not thinking about my Dulcinea, nor even about my mither;I was thinking about you and your britheries--I mean your nephews. '

'You are very kind, Mr. Moncrieff. '

'I'm a man of the wo_rrr_ld, though I wasn't aye a man of the wo_rrr_ld. Ihad to pay deep and dear for my experience, Miss M'Crimman. '

'I can easily believe that; but you have benefited by it. '

'Doubtless, doubtless; only it was concerning yourselves I was about tomake an observation or two. '

'Oh, thanks, do. You are so kind. '

'Never a bit. This is a weary wo_rrr_ld at best. Where would any of usland if the one didn't help the other? Well then, there you sit, and womanof the wo_rrr_ld though you be, you're in a strange corner of it. You'rein a foreign land now if ever you were. You have few friends. Bah! whatare all your letters of introduction worth? What do they bring you in? Afew invitations to dinner, or to spend a week up country by a wealthy_estanciero_, advice from this friend and the next friend, and from adozen friends maybe, but all different. You are already getting puzzled. You don't know what to do for the best. You're stopping here to look aboutyou, as the saying is. You might well ask me what right have I to adviseyou. The right of brotherhood, I may answer. By birth and station you maybe far above me, but--you are friends--you are from dear auld Scotland. Boys, you are my brothers!'

'And I your sister!' Aunt extended her hand as she spoke, and the worthyfellow 'coralled' it, so to speak, in his big brown fist, and tears sprangto his eyes. 

He pulled himself up sharp, however, and surrounded himself with smoke, asthe cuttle-fish does with black water, and probably for the samereason--to escape observation. 

'Now, ' he said, 'this is no time for sentiment; it is no land forsentiment, but for hard work. Well, what are you going to do? Simply tosay you're going to make your fortune is all fiddlesticks and folly. Howare you going to begin?'

'We were thinking--' I began, but paused. 

'_I_ was thinking--' said my aunt; then she paused also. 

Moncrieff laughed, but not unmannerly. 

'I was thinking, ' he said. '_You_ were thinking; _he_, _she_, or _it_ wasthinking. Well, my good people, you may stop all your life in Buenos Ayresand conjugate the verb "to think"; but if you'll take my advice you willput a shoulder to the wheel of life, and try to conjugate the verb "todo". '

'We all want to _do_ and act, ' said Donald, energetically. 

'Right. Well, you see, you have one thing already in your favour. You havea wee bit o' siller in your pouch. It is a nest egg, though; it is not tobe spent--it is there to bring more beside it. Now, will I tell you how Igot on in the world? I'm not rich, but I am in a fair way to beindependent. I am very fond of work, for work's sake, and I'm thirty yearsof age. Been in this country now for over fourteen years. Had I had a nestegg when I started, I'd have been half a millionaire by now. But, wae'sme! I left the old country with nothing belonging to me but my crook andmy plaid. '

'You were a shepherd before you came out, then?' said aunt. 

'Yes; and that was the beauty of it. You've maybe heard o' Foudland, inAberdeenshire? Well, I came fra far ayant the braes o' Foudland. That's, maybe, the way my mither's sae auldfarrent. There, ye see, I'm talkin'Scotch, for the very thought of Foudland brings back my Scotch tongue. Ay, dear lady, dear lady, my father was an honest crofter there. He owned abit farm and everything, and things went pretty well with us till deathtirled at the door-sneck and took poor father away to the mools. I wasonly a callan o' some thirteen summers then, and when we had to leave thewee croft and sell the cows we were fain to live in a lonely shieling onthe bare brae side, just a butt and a ben with a wee kailyard, and barelyenough land to grow potatoes and keep a little Shetland cowie. But, youngthough I was, I could herd sheep--under a shepherd at first, but finallyall by myself. I'm not saying that wasn't a happy time. Oh, it was, lady!it was! And many a night since then have I lain awake thinking about it, till every scene of my boyhood's days rose up before me. I could see thehills, green with the tints of spring, or crimson with the gloriousheather of autumn; see the braes yellow-tasselled with the golden broomand fragrant with the blooming whins; see the glens and dells, the silver, drooping birch-trees, the grand old waving pines, the wimpling burns, theroaring linns and lochs asleep in the evening sunset. And see my mither'sshieling, too; and many a night have I lain awake to pray I might have hernear me once again. '

'And a kind God has answered that prayer!'

'Ay, Miss M'Crimman, and I'll have the sad satisfaction of one day closingher een. Never mind, we do our duty here, and we'll all meet again in thegreat "Up-bye. " But, dear boys, to continue my story--if story I dare callit. Not far from the hills where I used to follow Laird Glennie's sheep, and down beside a bonnie wood and stream, was a house, of not muchpretension, but tenanted every year by a gentleman who used to paint thehills and glens and country all round. They say he got great praise forhis pictures, and big prices as well. I used often to arrange my sheep anddogs for him into what he would call picturesque groups and attitudes. Then he painted them and me and dogs and all. He used to delight to listento my boyish story of adventure, and in return would tell me tales offar-off lands he had been in, and about the Silver Land in particular. Such stories actually fired my blood. He had sown the seeds of ambition inmy soul, and I began to long for a chance of getting away out into thewide, wide world, and seeing all its wonders, and, maybe, becoming a greatman myself. But how could a penniless laddie work his way abroad?Impossible. 

'Well, one autumn a terrible storm swept over the country. It began with aperfect hurricane of wind, then it settled down to rain, till it became aperfect "spate. " I had never seen such rain, nor such tearing floods ascame down from the hills. 

'Our shieling was a good mile lower down the stream than the artist'ssummer hut. It was set well up the brae, and was safe. But on looking outnext day a sight met my eyes that quite appalled me. All the lowlands andhaughs were covered with a sea of water, down the centre of which a mightyriver was chafing and roaring, carrying on its bosom trees up-torn fromtheir roots, pieces of green bank, "stooks" of corn and "coles" of hay, and, saddest of all, the swollen bodies of sheep and oxen. My firstthought was for the artist. I ran along the bank till opposite his house. Yes, there it was flooded to the roof, to which poor Mr. Power wasclinging in desperation, expecting, doubtless, that every moment would behis last, for great trees were surging round the house and dashing againstthe tiles. 

'Hardly knowing what I did, I waved my plaid and shouted. He saw me, andwaved his arm in response. Then I remembered that far down stream a mankept a boat, and I rushed away, my feet hardly seeming to touch theground, till I reached--not the dwelling, that was covered, but the bankopposite; and here, to my delight, I found old M'Kenzie seated in hiscoble. He laughed at me when I proposed going to the rescue of Mr. Power. 

'"Impossible!" he said. "Look at the force of the stream. "

'"But we have not to cross. We can paddle up the edge, " I insisted. 

'He ventured at last, much to my joy. It was hard, dangerous work, andoften we found it safest to land and haul up the boat along the side. 

'We were opposite the artist's hut at length, hardly even the chimney ofwhich was now visible. But Power was safe as yet. 

'At the very moment our boat reached him the chimney disappeared, and withit the artist. The turmoil was terrible, for the whole house hadcollapsed. For a time I saw nothing, then only a head and arm raised abovethe foaming torrent, far down stream. I dashed in, in spite of M'Kenzie'sremonstrances, and in a minute more I had caught the drowning man. I musthave been struck on the head by the advancing boat. That matteredlittle--the sturdy old ferryman saved us both; and for a few days theartist had the best room in mither's shieling. 

'And this, dear lady, turned out to be--as I dare say you have guessed--myfairy godfather. He went back to Buenos Ayres, taking me as servant. He ishere now. I saw him but yesterday, and we are still the fastest friends. 

'But, boys, do not let me deceive you. Mr. Power was not rich; all hecould do for me was to pay my passage out, and let me trust to Providencefor the rest. 

'I worked at anything I could get to do for a time, principally holdinghorses in the street, for you know everybody rides here. But I felt sureenough that one day, or some day, a settler would come who could value theservices of an honest, earnest Scottish boy. 

'And come the settler did. He took me away, far away to the west, to awild country, but one that was far too flat and level to please me, whohad been bred and born among the grand old hills of Scotland. 

'Never mind, I worked hard, and this settler--a Welshman hewas--appreciated my value, and paid me fairly well. The best of it wasthat I could save every penny of my earnings. 

'Yes, boys, I roughed it more than ever you'll have to do, though rememberyou'll have to rough it too for a time. You don't mind that, you say. Bravely spoken, boys. Success in the Silver Land rarely fails to fall tohim who deserves it. 

'Well, in course of time I knew far more about sheep and cattle-raisingthan my master, so he took me as a partner, and since then I have donewell. We changed our quarters, my partner and I. We have now an excellentsteading of houses, and a grand place for the beasts. '

'And to what qualities do you chiefly attribute your success?' said myaunt. 

'Chiefly, ' replied Moncrieff, 'to good common-sense, to honest work andperseverance. I'm going back home in a week or two, as soon as I getmarried and my mither gets the "swimming" out of her head. She says shestill feels the earth moving up and down with her; and I don't wonder, anauld body like her doesn't stand much codging about. 

'Well, you see, boys, that I, like yourselves, had one advantage to beginwith. You have a bit o' siller--I got a fairy godfather. But if I had ayear to spare I'd go back to Scotland and lecture. I'd tell them all myown ups and downs, and I'd end by saying that lads or young men, withplenty of go in them and willingness to work, will get on up country hereif they can once manage to get landed. Ay, even if they have hardly onepenny to rattle against another. 

'Now, boys, do you care to go home with me? Mind it is a wild border-landI live on. There are wild beasts in the hill jungles yet, and there arewilder men--the Indians. Yes, I've fought them before, and hope to live tofight them once again. '

'I don't think _we'll_ fear the Indians _very_ much, ' said my bold brotherDonald. 

'And, ' I added, 'we are so glad you have helped us to solve the problemthat we stood face to face with--namely, how to begin to do something. '

'Well, if that is all, I'll give you plenty to do. I've taken out with mewaggon-loads of wire fencing as well as a wife. Next week, too, I expect aship from Glasgow to bring me seven sturdy Scotch servant men that Ipicked myself. Every one of them has legs like pillar post-offices, handsas broad as spades, and a heart like a lion's. And, more than all this, weare trying to form a little colony out yonder, then we'll be able to holdour own against all the reeving Indians that ever strode a horse. Ah!boys, this Silver Land has a mighty future before it! We have just tosettle down a bit and work with a will and a steady purpose, then we'llfear competition neither with Australia nor the United States of Americaeither. 

'But you'll come. That's right. And now I have you face to face with fateand fortune. 

 "Now's the day and now's the hour, See the front of battle lower. "

Yes, boys, the battle of life, and I would not give a fig for any lad whofeared to face it. 

'Coming, mither, coming. That's the auld lady waking up, and she'll want acup o' tea. '

CHAPTER IX. 

SHOPPING AND SHOOTING. 

We all went to Moncrieff's wedding, and it passed off much the same way asdo weddings in other parts of the world. The new Mrs. Moncrieff was a verymodest and charming young person indeed, and a native of our sisterisland--Ireland. I dare say Moncrieff loved his wife very much, thoughthere was no extra amount of romance about his character, else he wouldhardly have spoken about his wife and a truck-load of wire fencing in theself-same sentence. But I dare say this honest Scot believed that wirefencing was quite as much a matter of necessity in the Silver West as awife was. 

As for my brothers and me, and even aunt, we were impatient now--'burning'bold Donald called it--to get away to this same Silver West and begin thevery new life that was before us. 

But ships do not always arrive from England exactly to a day; the vesselin which Moncrieff's men, dogs, goods, and chattels were coming wasdelayed by contrary winds, and was a whole fortnight behind her time. 

Meanwhile we restrained ourselves as well as we could, and aunt wentshopping. She had set her heart upon guanaco robes or ponchos for each ofus; and though they cost a deal of money, and were, according toMoncrieff, a quite unnecessary expense, she bought them all the same. 

'They will last for ever, you know, ' was aunt's excuse for theextravagance. 

'Yes, ' he said, 'but we won't. Besides, ' he added, 'these ponchos maybring the Gaucho malo (the bad Gaucho) round us. '

'All the better, ' persisted aunt. 'I've heard such a deal about thisGaucho malo that I should very much like to see a live specimen. '

Moncrieff laughed. 

'I much prefer _dead_ specimens, ' he said, with that canny twinkle in hiseye. 'That's the way I like to see them served up. It is far the safestplan. '

We were very fond of aunt's company, for she really was more of a sisterto us than our auntie; but for all that we preferred going shopping withMoncrieff. The sort of stores he was laying in gave such earnest of futuresport and wild adventure. 

Strange places he took us to sometimes--the shop of a half-caste Indian, for instance, a fellow from the far south of Patagonia. Here Moncrieffbought quite a quantity of ordinary ponchos, belts, and linen trousers ofgreat width with hats enough of the sombrero type to thatch a rick. Thismild and gentle savage also sold Moncrieff some dozen of excellent lassoesand bolas as well. From the way our friend examined the former, and triedthe thong-strength of the latter, it was evident he was an expert in theuse of both. Bolas may be briefly described as three long leather thongstied together at one end, and having a ball at the free end of each. Onthe pampas, these balls are as often as not simply stones tied up in bitsof skin; but the bolas now bought by Moncrieff were composed of shiningmetal, to prevent their being lost on the pampas. These bolas are wavedround the heads of the horsemen hunters when chasing ostriches, or evenpumas. As soon as the circular motion has given them impetus they aredexterously permitted to leave the hand at a tangent, and if well throwngo circling round the legs, or probably neck of the animal, and bring itto the ground by tripping it up, or strangling it. 

The lasso hardly needs any description. 

'Can you throw that thing well?' said Dugald, his eyes sparkling withdelight. 

'I think I can, ' replied Moncrieff. 'Come to the door and see me lasso adog or something. '

Out we all went. 

'Oh!' cried Dugald, exultingly, 'here comes little Captain Bombazo, walking on the other side of the street with my aunt. Can you lasso himwithout hurting auntie?'

'I believe I can, ' said Moncrieff. 'Stand by, and let's have a good try. Whatever a man dares he can do. Hoop là!'

The cord left the Scotchman's hand like a flash of lightning, and nextmoment Bombazo, who at the time was smiling and talking most volubly, wasfairly noosed. 

The boys in the street got up a cheer. Bombazo jumped and struggled, butMoncrieff stood his ground. 

'He must come, ' he said, and sure enough, greatly to the delight of thetown urchins, Moncrieff rounded in the slack of the rope and landed thecaptain most beautifully. 

'Ah! you beeg Scot, ' said Bombazo, laughing good-humouredly. 'I would notcare so mooch, if it were not for de lady. '

'Oh, she won't miss you, Bombazo. '

'On the contraire, she veel be inconsolabeel. '

'Ha, ha, ha!' laughed Moncrieff. 'What a tall opinion of yourself youhave, my little friend!'

Bombazo drew himself up, but it hardly added an inch to his height, andnothing to his importance. 

Saddles of the pampas pattern the semi-savage had also plenty of, andbridles too, and Moncrieff gave a handsome order. 

A more respectable and highly civilized saddler's store was next visited, and real English gear was bought, including two charming ladies' saddlesof the newest pattern, and a variety of rugs of various kinds. 

Off we went next to a wholesale grocer's place. Out came Moncrieff'sgreat note-book, and he soon gave evidence that he possessed a wondrousmemory, and was a thorough man of business. He kept the shopman hard at itfor half an hour, by which time one of the pyramids of Egypt, on a smallscale, was built upon the counter. 

[Illustration: Fairly Noosed]

'Now for the draper's, and then the chemist's, ' said our friend. From theformer--a Scot, like himself--he bought a pile of goods of the bettersort, but from their appearance all warranted to wear a hundred years. 

His visit to the druggist was of brief duration. 

'Is my medicine chest filled?'

'Yes, sir, all according to your orders. '

'Thanks; send it, and send the bill. '

'Never mind about the bill, Mr. Moncrieff. You'll be down here again. '

'Send the bill, all the same. And I say, Mr. Squills--'

'Yes, sir. '

'Don't forget to deduct the discount. '

But Moncrieff's shopping was not quite all over yet, and the last place hewent to was a gunsmith's shop. 

And here I and my brothers learned a little about Silver West shooting, and witnessed an exhibition that made us marvel. 

Moncrieff, after most careful examination, bought half a dozen goodrifles, and a dozen fowling pieces. It took him quite a long time toselect these and the ammunition. 

'You have good judgment, sir, ' said the proprietor. 

'I require it all, ' said Moncrieff. 'But now I'd look at some revolvers. '

He was shown some specimens. 

'Toys--take them away. '

He was shown others. 

'Toys again. Have you nothing better?'

'There is nothing better made. '

'Very well. Your bill please. Thanks. '

'If you'll wait one minute, ' the shopkeeper said, 'I should feel obliged. My man has gone across the way to a neighbour gunsmith. '

'Couldn't I go across the way myself?'

'No, ' and the man smiled. 'I don't want to lose your custom. '

'Your candour is charming. I'll wait. '

In a few minutes the man returned with a big basket. 

'Ah! these are beauties, ' cried Moncrieff. 'Now, can I try one or two?'

'Certainly. '

The man led the way to the back garden of the premises. Against a wall atarget was placed, and Moncrieff loaded and took up his position. Inoticed that he kept his elbow pretty near his side. Then he slowly raisedthe weapon. 

Crack--crack--crack! six times in all. 

'Bravo!' cried the shopkeeper. 'Why, almost every shot has hit the spot. '

Moncrieff threw the revolver towards the man as if it had been acricket-ball. 

'Take off the trigger, ' he said. 

'Off the trigger, sir?'

'Yes, ' said Moncrieff, quietly; 'I seldom use the trigger. '

The man obeyed. Then he handed back the weapon, which he had loaded. 

Moncrieff looked one moment at the target, then the action of his arm wasfor all the world like that of throwing stones or cracking a whip. 

He seemed to bring the revolver down from his ear each time. 

Bang--bang--bang! and not a bullet missed the bull's-eye. 

'How is it done?' cried Dugald, excitedly. 

'I lift the hammer a little way with my thumb and let it go again as I getmy aim--that is all. It is a rapid way of firing, but I don't advise youladdies to try it, or you may blow off your heads. Besides, the aim, except in practised hands like mine, is not so accurate. To hit well it isbetter to raise the weapon. First fix your eye on your man'sbreast-button--if he has one--then elevate till you have your sightstraight, and there you are, and there your Indian is, or your "Gauchomalo. "'

Moncrieff pointed grimly towards the ground with his pistol as he spoke, and Dugald gave a little shudder, as if in reality a dead man lay there. 

'It is very simple, you see. '

'Oh, Mr. Moncrieff, ' said Dugald, 'I never thought you were so terrible aman!'

Moncrieff laughed heartily, finished his purchases, ordering bettercartridges, as these, he said, had been badly loaded, and made the weaponkick, and then we left the shop. 

'Now then, boys, I'm ready, and in two days' time hurrah for the SilverWest! Between you and me, I'm sick of civilization. '

And in two days' time, sure enough, we had all started. 

The train we were in was more like an American than an English one. Wewere in a very comfortable saloon, in which we could move about withfreedom. 

Moncrieff, as soon as we had rattled through the streets and foundourselves out in the green, cool country, was brimful of joy and spirits. Aunt said he reminded her of a boy going off on a holiday. His wife, too, looked 'blithe' and cheerful, and nothing could keep his mother's tonguefrom wagging. 

Bombazo made the old lady a capital second, while several other settlerswho were going out with us--all Scotch, by the way--did nothing but smileand wonder at all they saw. We soon passed away for a time beyond theregion of trees into a rich green rolling country, which gave evidence ofvast wealth, and sport too. Of this latter fact Dugald took good notice. 

'Oh, look!' he would cry, pointing to some wild wee lake. 'Murdoch!Donald! wouldn't you like to be at the lochside yonder, gun in hand?'

And, sure enough, all kinds of feathered game were very plentiful. 

But after a journey of five hours we left the train, and now embarked on apassenger steamer, and so commenced our journey up the Paraná. Does notthe very name sound musical? But I may be wrong, according to some, incalling the Paraná beautiful, for the banks are not high; there are nowild and rugged mountains, nor even great forests; nevertheless, its verywidth, its silent moving power, and its majesticness give it a beauty inmy eye that few rivers I know of possess. We gazed on it as the sunset litup its wondrous waters till an island we were passing appeared to riseinto the sky and float along in the crimson haze. We gazed on it again erewe retired for the night. The stars were now all out, and the river's darkbosom was studded here and there with ripples and buttons of light; butstill it was silent, as if it hid some dark mysterious secret which itmust tell only to the distant ocean. 

We slept very soundly this night, for the monotonous throb-throb of theengine's great pulse and the churning rush of the screw not only wooed usto slumber, but seemed to mingle even with our dreams. 

All night long, then, we were on the river, and nearly all next day aswell. But the voyage appeared to my brothers and me to be all too short. We neared Rosario about sunset, and at last cast anchor. But we did notland. We were too snug where we were, and the hotel would have had farfewer charms. 

To-night we had a little impromptu concert, for several of Moncrieff'sfriends came on board, and, strange to say, they were nearly all Scotch. So Scotch was spoken, Scotch songs were sung, and on deck, to the wildnotes of the great bagpipes, Scotch reels and strathspeys were danced. After that, 'The nicht drave on wi' songs and clatter, '

till it was well into the wee short hours of the morning. 

At Rosario we stopped for a day--more, I think, because Moncrieff wishedto give aunt and his young wife a chance of seeing the place than for anybusiness reason. Neither my brothers nor I were very much impressed by it, though it is a large and flourishing town, built somewhat on Philadelphiaprinciples, in blocks, and, like Philadelphia, gridironed all over withtramway lines. It is a good thing one is able to get off the marblepavements into the cars without having far to go, for the streets are attimes mere sloughs of despond. It is the same in all new countries. 

Rosario lies in the midst of a flat but fertile country, on the banks ofthe Paraná. The hotel where we lodged was quite Oriental in itsappearance, being built round a beautiful square, paved with marble, andadorned with the most lovely tropical shrubs, flowers, and climbingplants. 

There seems to be a flea in Rosario, however--just one flea; but he is amost ubiquitous and a most insatiably blood-thirsty little person. Theworst of it is that, night or day, you are never perfectly sure where hemay be. It is no use killing him either--that is simply labour thrownaway, for he appears to come to life again, and resumes his evil coursesas merrily as before. 

Fifty times a day did I kill that flea, and Dugald said he had slain himtwice as often; but even as Dugald spoke I could have vowed the lively_pulex_ was thoroughly enjoying a draught of my Highland blood inside myright sock. 

Although none of our party shed tears as we mounted into the train, stillthe kindly hand-shakings and the hearty good-byes were affecting enough;and just as the train went puffing and groaning away from the station theyculminated in one wild Highland hurrah! repeated three times thrice, andaugmented by the dissonance of a half-ragged crew of urchins, who mustneeds wave their arms aloft and shout, without the faintest notion what itwas all about. 

We were now _en route_ for Cordoba, westward ho! by Frayle Muerto andVilla Neuva. 

CHAPTER X. 

A JOURNEY THAT SEEMS LIKE A DREAM. 

It was towards sunset on the day we had left Rosario, and we had made whatour guard called a grand run, though to us it was a somewhat tedious one. Moncrieff had tucked his mother up in the plaid, and she had gone off tosleep on the seat 'as gentle as "ewe lammie, "' according to her son. Myaunt and the young bride were quietly talking together, and I myself wasin that delightful condition called "twixt sleeping and waking, ' whensuddenly Dugald, who had been watching everything from the window, cried, 'Oh, Donald, look here. What a lovely changing cloud!'

Had Moncrieff not been busy just then--very earnestly busyindeed--discussing the merits of some sample packets of seeds with one ofhis new men, he might have come at once and explained the mystery. 

It was indeed a lovely cloud, and it lay low on the north-western horizon. But we had never before seen so strange a cloud, for not only did itincrease in length and breadth more rapidly than do most clouds, but itcaught the sun's parting rays in quite a marvellous manner. When first welooked at it the colour throughout was a bluish purple; suddenly itchanged to a red with resplendent border of fiery orange. Next itcollapsed, getting broader and rounder, and becoming a dark blue, almostapproaching to black, while the border beneath was orange-red. But theglowing magnificence of the colour it is impossible to describe in words;and the best artist would have failed to reproduce it even were he tentimes a Turner. 

At this moment, and just as the cloud was becoming elongated again, Moncrieff came to our side. His usually bright face fell at once as soonas he glanced at it. 

'Locusts!' He almost gasped the word out. 

'Locusts!' was re-echoed from every corner of the carriage; andimmediately all eyes were strained in the direction of our 'lofty goldencloud. '

As we approached nearer to it, and it came nearer to us, even the lightfrom the setting sun was obscured, and in a short time we were in thecloud, and apparently part of it. It had become almost too dark to seeanything inside our carriage, owing to that dense and awful fog of insectlife. We quickly closed the windows, for the loathsome insects were nowpattering against the glass, and many had already obtained admittance, much to the horror of young Mrs. Moncrieff, though aunt took matters easyenough, having seen such sights before. 

The train now slowly came to a standstill. Something--no one appeared toknow what--had happened on ahead of us, and here we must wait till theline was clear. Even Moncrieff's mother had awakened, and was looking outwith the rest of us. 

'Dearie me! Dearie me!' she exclaimed. 'A shower o' golochs! The verylicht o' day darkened wi' the fu'some craiters. Ca' you this a land o'milk and honey? Egyptian darkness and showers o' golochs!'

We descended and walked some little distance into the country, and thesight presented to our astonished gaze I, for one, will not forget to mydying day. The locusts were still around us, but were bearing awaysouthward, having already devastated the fields in this vicinity. But theyfell in hundreds and thousands around us; they struck against our hands, our faces, and hats; they got into our sleeves, and even into our pockets;and we could not take a step without squashing them under foot. 

Only an hour before we had been passing through a country whose greenfertility was something to behold once and dream about for ever. Evidenceof wealth and contentment had been visible on all sides. Beautiful, home-looking, comfortable _estancias_ and out-buildings, fat, sleek cattleand horses, and flocks of beautiful sheep, with feathered fowls of everydescription. But here, though there were not wanting good farmsteadings, all was desolation and threatened famine; hardly a green blade or leaf wasleft, and the woebegone looks of some of the people we met wanderingaimlessly about, dazed and almost distracted, were pitiful to behold. Iwas not sorry when a shriek from the engine warned us that it was time toretrace our slippery footsteps. 

'Is this a common occurrence?' I could not help asking our friendMoncrieff. 

He took me kindly by the arm as he replied, 'It's a depressing sight to a youngster, I must allow; but we should notlet our thoughts dwell on it. Sometimes the locusts are a terrible plague, but they manage to get over even that. Come in, and we'll light up thesaloon. '

For hours after this the pattering continued at the closed windows, showing that the shower of golochs had not yet ceased to fall. But withlights inside, the carriage looked comfortable and cheerful enough, andwhen presently Moncrieff got out Bombazo's guitar and handed it to him, and that gentleman began to sing, we soon got happy again, and forgot eventhe locusts--at least, all but Moncrieff's mother did. She had gone tosleep in a corner, but sometimes we heard her muttering to herself, in herdreams, about the 'land o' promise, ' 'showers of golochs, ' and 'Egyptiandarkness. '

The last thing I remember as I curled up on the floor of the saloon, witha saddle for a pillow and a rug round me--for the night had grown bitterlycold--was Bombazo's merry face as he strummed on his sweet guitar and sangof tresses dark, and love-lit eyes, and sunny Spain. This was a delightfulway of going to sleep; the awakening was not quite so pleasant, however, for I opened my eyes only to see a dozen of the ugly 'golochs' on my rug, and others asquat on the saddle, washing their faces as flies do. I got upand went away to wash mine. 

The sun was already high in the heavens, and on opening a window andlooking out, I found we were passing through a woodland country, and thatfar away in the west were rugged hills. Surely, then, we were nearing theend of our journey. 

I asked our mentor Moncrieff, and right cheerily he replied, 'Yes, my lad, and we'll soon be in Cordoba now. '

This visit of ours to Cordoba was in reality a little pleasure trip, gotup for the special delectation of our aunt and young Mrs. Moncrieff. Itformed part and parcel of the Scotchman's honeymoon, which, it must beallowed, was a very chequered one. 

If the reader has a map handy he will find the name Villa Maria thereon, aplace lying between Rosario and Cordoba. This was our station, and therewe had left all heavy baggage, including Moncrieff's people. On our returnwe should once more resume travelling together westward still by Mercedes. And thence to our destination would be by far and away the most eventfulportion of the journey. 

'Look out, ' continued Moncrieff, 'and behold the rugged summits of thegrand old hills. '

'And these are the Sierras?'

'These are the Sierras; and doesn't the very sight of mountains once againfill your heart with joy? Don't you want to sing and jump--'

'And call aloud for joy, ' said his mother, who had come up to have a peepover our shoulders. 'Dearie me, ' she added, 'they're no half so bonny andgreen as the braes o' Foudland. '

'Ah! mither, wait till you get to our beautiful home in Mendoza. Ye'll becharmed wi' a' you see. '

'I wish, ' I said, 'I was half as enthusiastic as you are, Moncrieff. '

'You haven't been many days in the Silver Land. Wait, lad, wait! When onceyou've fairly settled and can feel at home, man, you'll think the time asshort as pleasure itself. Days and weeks flee by like winking, and everyday and every week brings its own round o' duty to perform. And all thetime you'll be makin' money as easy as makin' slates. '

'Money isn't everything, ' I said. 

'No, lad, money isn't everything; but money is a deal in this wo_rrr_ld, and we mustn't forget that money puts the power in our hands to do othersgood, and that I think is the greatest pleasure of a'. And you know, Murdoch, that if God does put talents in our hands He expects us to makeuse of them. '

'True enough, Moncrieff, ' I said. 

'See, see! that is Cordoba down in the hollow yonder, among the hills. Look, mither! see how the domes and steeples sparkle in the mornin'ssunshine. Yonder dome is the cathedral, and further off you see theobservatory, and maybe, mither, you'll have a peep through a telescopethat will bring the moon so near to you that you'll be able to see thegood folks thereon ploughin' fields and milkin' kye. '

We stayed at Cordoba for four days. I felt something of the old pleasantlanguor of Rio stealing over me again as I lounged about the handsomestreets, gazed on the ancient churches and convent, and its world-renownedUniversity, or climbed its _barranca_, or wandered by the Rio Balmeiro, and through the lovely and romantic suburbs. In good sooth, Cordoba is adreamy old place, and I felt better for being in it. The weather was allin our favour also, being dry, and neither hot nor cold, although it wasnow winter in these regions. I was sorry to leave Cordoba, and so I feelsure was aunt, and even old Jenny. 

Then came the journey back to Villa Maria, and thence away westward toVilla Mercedes. The railway to the latter place had not long been opened. 

It seems all like a beautiful halo--that railway ride to the _UltimaThule_ of the iron horse--and, like a dream, it is but indistinctlyremembered. Let me briefly catch the salient points of this pleasantjourney. 

Villa Maria we reach in the evening. The sun is setting in a golden haze;too golden, for it bodes rain, and presently down it comes in a steadypour, changing the dust of the roads into the stickiest of mud, andpresently into rivers. Moncrieff is here, there, and everywhere, seeingafter his manifold goods and chattels; but just as the short twilight isdeepening into night, he returns 'dressed and dry, ' as he calls it, to thesnug little room of the inn, where a capital dinner is spread for us, andwe are all hungry. Even old Jenny, forgetting her troubles and travels, makes merry music with knife and fork, and Bombazo is all smiles andchatter. It rains still; what of that? It will drown the mosquitoes andother flying 'jerlies. ' It is even pleasant to listen to the rattle of therain-drops during the few lulls there were in the conversation. The soundmakes the room inside seem ever so much more cosy. Besides, there is afire in the grate, and, to add to our enjoyment, Bombazo has his guitar. 

Even the landlord takes the liberty of lingering in the room, standingmodestly beside the door, to listen. It is long, he tells us, since he hashad so cheerful a party at his house. 

Aileen, as Moncrieff calls his pretty bride, is not long in discoveringthat the innkeeper hails from her own sweet Isle of Sorrow, and manyfriendly questions are asked on both sides. 

Bed at last. A bright morning, the sun coming up red and rosy through anocean of clouds more gorgeous than ever yet was seen in tame old England. 

We are all astir very early. We are all merry and hungry. Farewells aresaid, and by and by off we rattle. The train moves very slowly at first, but presently warms to her work and settles down to it. We catch a glimpseof a town some distance off, and nearer still the silver gleam of a riverreflecting the morning sun. By and by we are on the river bridge, andover it, and so on and away through an open pampa. Such, at least, I callit. Green swelling land all around, with now and then a lake or lochswarming with web-footed fowl, the sight of which makes Dugald's eyeswater. 

We pass station after station, stopping at all. More woods, more pampa;thriving fields and fertile lands; _estancias_, flocks of sheep, herds ofhappy cattle. A busy, bustling railway station, with as much noise aroundit as we find at Clapham Junction; another river--the Rio Cuarto, if mymemory does not play me false; pampas again, with hills in the distance. Wine and water-melons at a station; more wine and more water-melons atanother. 

After this I think I fall asleep, and I wonder now if the wine and thewater-melons had anything to do with that. I awake at last and rub myeyes. Bombazo is also dozing; so is old Jenny. Old Jenny is a marvel tosleep. Dugald is as bright as a humming bird; he says I have lost asight. 

'What was the sight?'

'Oh, droves upon droves of real wild horses, wilder far than our ponies atCoila. '

I close my eyes again. Dear old Coila! I wish Dugald had not mentioned theword. It takes me back again in one moment across the vast and mightyocean we have crossed to our home, to father, mother, and Flora. 

Before long we are safe at Villa Mercedes. Not much to see here, and thewind blows cold from west and south. 

We are not going to lodge in the town, however. We are independent ofinns, if there are any, and independent of everything. We are going undercanvas. 

Already our pioneers have the camp ready in a piece of ground sheltered bya row of lordly poplars; and to-morrow morning we start by road for thefar interior. 

 * * * * *

Another glorious morning! There is a freshness in the air which almostamounts to positive cold, and reminds one of a November day in Scotland. Bombazo calls it bitterly cold, and my aunt has distributed guanacoponchos to us, and has adorned herself with her own. Yes, adorned is theright word to apply to auntie's own travelling toilet; but we brothersthink we look funny in ours, and laugh at each other in turn. Moncrieffsticks to the Highland plaid, but the sight of a guanaco poncho to oldJenny does, I verily believe, make her the happiest old lady in all theSilver Land. She is mounted in the great canvas-covered waggon, which isquite a caravan in every respect. It has even windows in the sides andreal doorways, and is furnished inside with real sofas and Indian-madechairs, to say nothing of hammocks and tables and a stove. This caravan isdrawn by four beautiful horses, and will be our sitting-room anddining-room by day, and the ladies' boudoir and bedroom for some time tocome. 

Away we rattle westwards, dozens of soldiers, half-bred Chilians, Gauchos, and a crowd of dark-eyed but dirty children, giving us a ringing cheer aswe start. 

What a cavalcade it is, to be sure! Waggons, drays, carts, mules, andhorses. All our imported Scotchmen are riding, and glorious fellows theylook. Each has a rifle slung across his shoulder, belts and sheath knives, and broad sombrero hat. The giant Moncrieff himself is riding, and looksto me the bravest of the brave. I and each of my brothers have undertakento drive a cart or waggon, and we feel men from hat to boots, and as proudall over as a cock with silver spurs. 

We soon leave behind us those tall, mysterious-looking poplar trees. Sotall are they that, although when we turned out not a breath of wind wasblowing on the surface of the ground, away aloft their summits were wavinggently to and fro, with a whispering sound, as if they were talking tounseen spirits in the sky. 

We leave even the _estancias_ behind. We are out now on the lonesomerolling plain. Here and there are woods; away, far away, behind us are thejagged summits of the everlasting hills. By and by the diligence, astrange-looking rattle-trap of a coach--a ghost of a coach, I might callit--goes rattling and swaying past us. Its occupants raise a feeble cheer, to which we respond with a three times three; for we seem to like to hearour voices. 

After this we feel more alone than ever. On and on and on we jog. The roadis broad and fairly good; our waggons have broad wheels; this retards ourspeed, but adds to our comfort and that of the mules and horses. 

Before very long we reach a broad river, and in we plunge, the horsemenleading the van, with the water up to their saddle-girths. I give thereins of my team to my attendant Gaucho, and, running forward, jump onboard the caravan to keep the ladies company while we fight the ford. Butthe ladies are in no way afraid; they are enjoying themselves in the frontof the carriage, which is open. Old Jenny is in an easy-chair and buriedto the nose in her guanaco robe. She is muttering something to herself, and as I bend down to listen I can catch the words: 'Dearie me! Dearie me!When'll ever we reach the Land o' Promise? Egyptian darkness! Showers ofgolochs! Chariots and horsemen! Dearie me! Dearie me!'

But we are over at last, and our whole cavalcade looks sweeter and fresherfor the bath. 

Presently we reach a corral, where two men beckon to Moncrieff. They arewild and uncouth enough in all conscience; their baggy breeches andponchos are in sad need of repair, and a visit to a barber would add tothe respectability of their appearance. They look excited, wave theirarms, and point southwards. But they talk in a strange jargon, and thereare but two words intelligible to me. These, however, are enough to set myheart throbbing with a strange feeling of uneasiness I never felt before. 

'_Los Indios! Los Indios!_'

Moncrieff points significantly to his armed men and smiles. The Gauchoswave their arms in the air, rapidly opening and shutting their hands in away that to me is very mysterious. And so they disappear. 

CHAPTER XI. 

THE TRAGEDY AT THE FONDA. 

I could not help wondering, as I glanced at aunt whether she had heard andunderstood the meaning of those wild Gauchos' warning. If she did she madeno sign. But aunt is a M'Crimman, and the sister of a bold Highland chief. She would not _show_ fear even if she _felt_ it. Yes, the brave may feelfear, but the coward alone is influenced by it. 

Old Jenny had gone to sleep, so I said good-bye to aunt, nodded to Aileen, and went back to my waggon once more. 

We made good progress that day, though we did not hurry. We stopped tofeed our cattle, and to rest and feed ourselves. The jolting had beenterrible on some parts of the road. But now the sun was getting very lowindeed, and as we soon came to a piece of high, hard ground, with a viewof the country round us for miles, we determined to bivouac for thenight. 

The horses and mules were hobbled and turned off to graze under the chargeof sentry Gauchos. No fear of their wandering off far. They were waterednot an hour ago, and would be fresh by daybreak. 

Now, Moncrieff had been too long in the wilds to neglect precautions whilecamping out. I had taken an early opportunity to-day to interview ourleader concerning the report that Indians were abroad. 

'Ah!' he answered, 'you heard and understood what that half-breed said, then?'

'Just a word or two. He appeared to give us a warning of some kind. Is itof any account?'

'Well, there's always some water where the stirkie drowns; there's alwayssome fire where you see smoke; and it is better to be sure than sorry. '

I could elicit no more information from my canny countryman than that. Isaid nothing to any one, not even my brothers. Why should I cause them theslightest alarm, and speak a word that might tend to make them sleep lesssoundly?

However, as soon as the halt was made, I was glad to see that Moncriefftook every precaution against a surprise. The caravan was made the centreof a square, the waggons being 'laggered' around it. The fire was lit andthe dinner cooked close beside a sheltering _barranca_, and as soon asthis meal was discussed the fire was extinguished. 

 'Then came still evening on, '

and we all gathered together for prayer. Even the Gauchos were summoned, though I fear paid but little attention, while Moncrieff, standingbare-headed in the midst of us, read a chapter from the Book by the paleyellow light of the western sky. Then, still standing--

'Brothers, let us pray, ' he said. 

Erect there, with the twilight shadows falling around him, with open eyesand face turned skywards, with the sunset's after-glow falling on his hardbut comely features, his plaid depending from his broad shoulders, I couldnot help admiring the man. His prayer--and it was but brief--had all thetrusting simplicity of a little child's, yet it was in every way theprayer of a man communing with his God; in every tone thereof was breathedbelief, reliance, gratitude, and faith in the Father. 

As he finished, Dugald pressed my arm and pointed eastwards, smiling. Astar had shone out from behind a little cloud, and somehow it seemed tome as if it were an angel's eye, and that it would watch over us all thelive-long night. Our evening service concluded with that loveliest ofhymns, commencing--

 'O God of Bethel, by whose hand Thy children still are fed; Who through this weary wilderness Hath all our fathers led. '

He gave it out in the old Scotch way, two lines at a time, and to the tune'Martyrdom. '

It was surely appropriate to our position and our surroundings, especiallythat beautiful verse--

 'Oh, spread Thy covering wings around, Till all our wanderings cease, And at our Father's loved abode Our souls arrive in peace. '

We now prepared for rest. The sentries were set, and in a short time allwas peace and silence within our camp. More than once during the night thecollies--dogs brought out by Moncrieff's men--gave an uneasy bark or two, their slumbers being probably disturbed by the cry of some night bird, orthe passing of a prowling fox. 

So, wrapped in our guanaco robes--the benefit of which we felt now--mybrothers and I slept sweetly and deeply till the sun once more rose in theeast. 

Soon all was bustle and stir again. 

Thus were our days spent on the road, thus our evenings, and eke ournights. And at the end of some days we were still safe and sound, andhappy. No one sick in the camp; no horse or mule even lame; while we wereall hardening to travel already. 

So far, hardly anything had happened to break the even tenour of ourjourney. Our progress, however, with so much goods and chattels, and oversuch roads, was necessarily slow; yet we never envied the lumberingdiligence that now and then went rattling past us. 

We saw many herds of wild horses. Some of these, led by beautifulstallions, came quite close to us. They appeared to pity our horsesand mules, condemned to the shafts and harness, and compelled to worktheir weary lives away day after day. Our beasts were slaves. They werefree--free as the breezes that blew over the pampas and played withtheir long manes, as they went thundering over the plains. We had seenseveral ostriches, and my brothers and I had enjoyed a wild ride ortwo after them. Once we encountered a puma, and once we saw anarmadillo. We had never clapped eyes on a living specimen before, butthere could be no mistaking the gentleman in armour. Not that he gave usmuch time for study, however. Probably the creature had been asleep aswe rounded the corner of a gravel bank, but in one moment he becamealive to his danger. Next moment we saw nothing but a rising cloud ofdust and sand; lo! the armadillo was gone to the Antipodes, or somewherein that direction--buried alive. Probably the speed with which anarmadillo--there are several different species in the SilverWest--disappears at the scent of any one belonging to the _genus homo_, is caused by the decided objection he has to be served up as a side-dish. He is excellent eating--tender as a chicken, juicy as a sucking-pig, butthe honour of being roasted whole and garnished is one he does not crave. 

Riding on ahead one day--I had soon got tired of the monotony of driving, and preferred the saddle--at a bend of the road I came suddenly upon twohorsemen, who had dismounted and were lying on a patch of sward by theroadside. Their horses stood near. Both sprang up as I appeared, and quickas lightning their hands sought the handles of the ugly knives thatdepended in sheaths from their girdles. At this moment there was a look inthe swarthy face of each that I can only describe as diabolical. Hatred, ferocity, and cunning were combined in that glance; but it vanished in amoment, and the air assumed by them now was one of cringing humility. 

'The Gaucho malo, ' I said to myself as soon as I saw them. Their horseswere there the nobler animals. Bitted, bridled, and saddled, the latterwere in the manner usual to the country, the saddle looking like a hugehillock of skins and rags; but rifles were slung alongside, to say nothingof bolas and lasso. The dress of the men was a kind of nondescript garb. Shawls round the loins, tucked up between their legs and fastened with agirdle, did duty as breeches; their feet were encased in _potro_ boots, made of the hock-skin of horses, while over their half-naked shouldershung ponchos of skin, not without a certain amount of wild grace. 

Something else as well as his rifle was lashed to the saddle of one ofthese desert gipsies, and being new to the country, I could not helpwondering at this--namely, a guitar in a case of skin. 

With smiles that I knew were false one now beckoned me to alight, whilethe other unslung the instrument and began to tune it. The caravan musthave been fully two miles behind me, so that to some extent I was at themercy of these Gauchos, had they meant mischief. This was not their planof campaign, however. 

Having neighed in recognition of the other horses, my good nag stood asstill as a statue; while, with my eyes upon the men and my hand withineasy distance of my revolver, I listened to their music. One sang whilethe other played, and I must confess that the song had a certainfascination about it, and only the thought that I was far from safeprevented me from thoroughly enjoying it. I knew, as if by instinct, however, that the very fingers that were eliciting those sweet sad toneswere itching to clutch my throat, and that the voice that thrilled mysenses could in a moment be changed into a tiger yell, with which men likethese spring upon their human prey. 

On the whole I felt relieved when the rumble of the waggon wheels fellonce more on my ears. I rode back to meet my people, and presently a haltwas made for the midday feed. 

If aunt desired to feast her eyes on the Gaucho malo she had now a chance. They played to her, sang to her, and went through a kind of wild dance forher especial delectation. 

'What romantic and beautiful blackguards they are!' was the remark shemade to Moncrieff. 

Moncrieff smiled, somewhat grimly, I thought. 

'It's no' for nought the cland[4] whistles, ' he said in his broadest, canniest accents. 

These Gauchos were hunting, they told Moncrieff. Had they seen any Indiansabout? No, no, not an Indian. The Indians were far, far south. 

Aunt gave them some garments, food, and money; and, with many bows andsalaams, they mounted their steeds and went off like the wind. 

I noticed that throughout the remainder of the day Moncrieff was unusuallysilent, and appeared to wish to be alone. Towards evening he beckoned tome. 

'We'll ride on ahead, ' he said, 'and look for a good bit ofcamping-ground. '

Then away we both went at a canter, but in silence. 

We rode on and on, the ground rising gently but steadily, until we stoppedat last on a high plateau, and gazed around us at the scene. A more bleakand desolate country it would be impossible to imagine. One vast andsemi-desert plain, the eye relieved only by patches of algarrobo bushes, or little lakes of water. Far ahead of us the cone of a solitary mountainrose on the horizon, and towards this the sun was slowly declining. Awaymiles in our rear were the waggons and horses struggling up the hill. Butsilence as deep as death was everywhere. Moncrieff stretched his armsouthwards. 

'What do you see yonder, Murdo?' he said. 

'I see, ' I replied, after carefully scanning the rolling plain, 'twoostriches hurrying over the pampas. '

'Those are not ostriches, boy. They are those same villain Gauchos, andthey are after no good. I tell you this, that you may be prepared foranything that may happen to-night. But look, ' he added, turning hishorse's head; 'down here is a corral, and we are sure to find water. '

We soon reached it. Somewhat to our surprise we found no horses anywhereabout, and no sign of life around the little inn or _fonda_ except onewretched-looking dog. 

As we drew up at the door and listened the stillness felt oppressive. Moncrieff shouted. No human voice responded; but the dog, seated on hishaunches, gave vent to a melancholy howl. 

'Look, ' I said, 'the dog's paws are red with blood. He is wounded. '

'It isn't _his_ blood, boy. '

The words thrilled me. I felt a sudden fear at my heart, born perhaps ofthe death-like stillness. Ah! it was indeed a death-like stillness, andthe stillness of death itself as well. 

Moncrieff dismounted. I followed his example, and together we entered the_fonda_. 

We had not advanced a yard when we came on an awesome sight--the dead bodyof a Gaucho! It lay on its back with the arms spread out, the face hackedto pieces, and gashes in the neck. The interior of the hut was a chaos ofwild confusion, the little furniture there was smashed, and evidentlyeverything of value had been carried away. Half buried in the _débris_ wasthe body of a woman, and near it that of a child. Both were slashed anddisfigured, while pools of blood lay everywhere about. Young though I was, I had seen death before in several shapes, but never anything so ghastlyand awful as this. 

A cold shudder ran through my frame and seemed to pierce to the verymarrow of my bones. I felt for a few moments as if in some dreadfulnightmare, and I do not hesitate to confess that, M'Crimman and all as Iam, had those Gauchos suddenly appeared now in the doorway, I could nothave made the slightest resistance to their attack. I should have taken mydeath by almost rushing on the point of their terrible knives. ButMoncrieff's calm earnest voice restored me in a moment. At its tones Ifelt raised up out of my coward self, and prepared to face anything. 

'Murdoch, ' he said, 'this is a time for calm thought and action. '

'Yes, ' I answered; 'bid me do anything, and I will do it. But come out ofthis awful place. I--I feel a little faint. '

Together we left the blood-stained _fonda_, Moncrieff shutting the doorbehind him. 

'No other eye must look in there, ' he said. 'Now, Murdoch, listen. '

He paused, and I waited; his steadfast eyes bent on my face. 

'You are better now? You are calm, and no longer afraid?'

'I am no longer afraid. '

'Well, I can trust _you_, and no one else. Led by those evil fiends whomwe saw to-day, the Indians will be on us to-night in force. I will prepareto give them a warm reception--'

'And I will assist, ' I hastened to say. 

'No, Murdoch, you will not be here to help us at the commencement. I saidthe Indians would attack in _force_, because they know our numbers. Those_malo_ men have been spying on us when we little thought it. They know ourstrength to a gun, and they will come in a cloud that nothing canwithstand, or that nothing could withstand in the open. But we willentrench and defend ourselves till your return. '

'My return!'

'Twelve miles from here, ' he went on, 'is a fort. It contains two officersand over a score soldiers. In two hours it will be dusk, in an hour afterthat the moon rises. 'Twixt twilight and moonrise you must ride to thatfort and bring assistance. Depend upon it, we can defend ourselves tillyou come with your men, and you must attack the savages in the rear. Youunderstand?'

'Perfectly. But had I not better ride away at once?'

'No, the Indians would waylay you. You never would reach the frontierfort. Even if you did escape from the chase, the knowledge that the troopswere coming would prevent them from attacking to-night. '

'And you want them to attack to-night?'

'I wish them to attack to-night. We may never be able to give a goodaccount of them again, but all depends on your success. '

In a short time the first waggons came up. They would have stopped, butMoncrieff beckoned them onwards. When the last waggon had gone we mountedour horses and slowly followed. At a stream not far distant we watered, and once more continued our journey. 

The road now rose rapidly, till in half an hour we were on high ground, and here the halt was made. I could breathe more easily now we had leftthat blood-stained hollow, though well I knew the sight I had witnessedwould not leave my thoughts for years to come. 

Everything was done as quietly and orderly as if no cloud were hoveringover us, so soon to burst. The big fire was lit as usual, supper cooked, prayers said, and the fire also lit in the ladies' caravan, for the nightswere cold and raw now. 

The night began to fall. Moncrieff and I had kept our secret to ourselveshitherto, but we could no longer conceal from any one that there wasdanger in the air. Yet the news seemed to astonish no one, not even aunt. 

'Dear brother, ' she said to our leader, 'I read it in your face all theafternoon. '

It was almost dusk now, and work was commenced in earnest. Spades were gotout, and every man worked like a slave to entrench the whole position. Thestrength that I was to leave behind me was seven-and-twenty men all told, but this included ten Gauchos. Nevertheless, behind trenches, with plentyof guns, revolvers, and ammunition, they were powerful enough to defendthe position against hundreds of badly-armed Indians. Not far off was apatch of wood which stretched downwards into a rocky ravine. Luckily itlay on the north side of the road, and hither, as soon as it was darkenough, every horse and mule was led and secured to the trees. Nor even inthis extremity of danger were their wants forgotten, for grass mixed withgrains was placed in front of each. 

My horse was now led round. Each hoof was encased in a new and strong_potro_ boot, secured by thongs around the legs. 

'You must neither be heard nor seen, ' said Moncrieff, as he pointed tothese. 'Now, good-night, boy; God be wi' ye, and with us all!'

'Amen!' I responded, earnestly. 

Then away I rode in silence, through the starlight; but as I looked backto the camp my heart gave an uneasy throb. Should I ever see them aliveagain?

-----

 [4] Cland, a kind of hawk. 

CHAPTER XII. 

ATTACK BY PAMPA INDIANS. 

So lonesome a ride in the darkness of night, through a country wild andbleak, with danger lurking perhaps on either side of me, might easily havedaunted a bolder heart than mine. 

Something of the unspeakable feeling of dread I had experienced in the_fonda_ while surrounded by those awful corpses came back to me now. Itried to banish it, but failed. My nervousness became extreme, andappeared to increase rather than diminish as I left the camp farther andfarther behind me. It was almost a superstitious fear that had gottenpossession of my soul. It was fear of the unseen; and even at thisdistance of time I can only say I would willingly face death in open day ahundred times over rather than endure for an hour the terrors I sufferedthat night. Every bush I saw I took for a figure lurking by the roadside, while solitary trees I had to pass assumed the form and shape and evenmovement of an enemy on horseback riding silently down to meet me. Againand again I clutched my revolver, and even now I cannot tell what powerprevented me from firing at my phantom foes. Over and over again I reinedup to listen, and at such times the wind whispering through the tall grasssounded to me like human voices, while the cry of birds that now and thenrose startlingly close to me, made my heart beat with a violence that initself was painful. 

Sometimes I closed my eyes, and gave the horse his head, trying to carrymy thoughts back to the lights of the camp, or forward to the fort which Ihoped soon to reach. 

I had ridden thus probably five good miles, when I ventured to look behindme, and so great had been the strain on my nerves that the sight I nowwitnessed almost paralyzed me. 

It was the reflection as of a great fire on the brow of the hill where mypeople were beleaguered. 

'The camp is already attacked, and in flames, ' I muttered. Whither shouldI ride now--backwards or forwards?

While I yet hesitated the flames appeared to wax fiercer and fiercer, tillpresently--oh, joy!--a big round moon gradually shook itself clear of acloud and began slowly to climb the eastern sky. 

All fear fled now. I muttered a prayer of thankfulness, dashed the spursinto my good horse's sides, and went on at the gallop. 

The time seemed short after this, and almost before I knew I came rightupon the fort, and was challenged by the sentry. 

'_Amigo!_' I yelled. '_Amigo! Angleese!_'

I dare say I was understood, for soon after lights appeared on theramparts, and I was hailed again, this time in English, or for what passedas English. I rode up under the ramparts, and quickly told my tale. 

In ten minutes more I was received within the fort. A tumble-down place Ifound it, but I was overjoyed to be in it, nevertheless. In the principalroom most of the men were playing games, and smoking and talking, whilethe commandant himself lounged about with a cigarette in his mouth. 

He considered for a minute or two--an age it appeared to me--ere heanswered. Yes; he would come, and take with him fifteen soldiers, leavingthe rest to guard the fort. I could have embraced him, so joyful did Ifeel on hearing these words. 

How long would he be? One hour, no more. For arms had to be cleaned, andammunition to be got ready; and the men must feed. 

A whole hour! No wonder I sighed and looked anxious. Why, every minute wasprecious to my poor beleaguered friends. It would be long past midnightere I reached the camp again, for these men would not be mounted. Yet Isaw the good little commander was doing his best, not only to expeditematters, but to treat me with kindness and hospitality. He brought forthfood and wine, and forced me to eat and drink. I did so to please him; butwhen he proposed a game to pass the time, I began to think the man wascrazed. He was not. No; but possessed a soldierly virtue which I could notboast of--namely, patience. 

 * * * * *

The work of entrenchment was soon completed after my departure; then therewas nothing more to be done except to appoint the men to their quarters, place sentinels on the highest of the waggons, and wait. 

Ah, but this waiting is a weary thing under circumstances like thepresent--waiting and watching, not knowing from what quarter the attackwill come, what form it will take, or when it will commence. 

Except in the chief caravan itself, where Moncrieff and Donald sat for atime to keep up the hearts of the ladies, no lights were lit. 

There was no singing to-night, hardly a smile on any face, and no onespoke much above a whisper. Poor old Jenny had gone to sleep, as usual. 

'Wake me, ' had been her last words. 'Wake me, laddie, when the Philistinesare upon us. '

'The old lady's a marvel!' Moncrieff had whispered to aunt. 

Moncrieff was doing all he could to keep conversation alive, though, strange to say, Bombazo seldom spoke. Surely he could not be afraid. Moncrieff had his suspicions. Brave as my aunt was, the waiting made hernervous. 

'Hark!' she would say every now and then; or, 'Listen! What was that?'

'Only the cry of a burrowing owl, ' Moncrieff might have to answer; or, 'Only the yap of a prowling fox. ' Oh, the waiting, the weary waiting!

The moon rose at last, and presently it was almost as light as day. 

'Will they come soon, think you?' whispered poor Aileen. 

'No, darling; not for hours yet. Believe me there is no danger. We arewell prepared. '

'Oh, Alec, Alec!' she answered, bursting into tears; 'it is you I fearfor, not myself. Let me go with you when they come. I would not then beafraid; but waiting here--oh, it is the waiting that takes all the heartout of me. '

'Egyptian darkness!' murmured the old lady in her sleep. Then in louder, wilder key, 'Smite them!' she exclaimed. 'Smite this host of thePhilistines from Gideon to Gaza. '

'Dear old mither, she's dreaming, ' said Moncrieff. 'But, oh, we'll laughat all this by to-morrow night, Aileen, my darling. '

One hour, two hours went slowly, painfully past. The moon mounted higherand higher, and shone clearer and clearer, but not yet on all the plainswere there signs of a mounted Indian. 

Yet even at that moment, little though our people knew it, swarthy formswere creeping stealthily through the pampas grass, with spears and guns attrail, pausing often to glance towards the camp they meant so soon tosurprise and capture. 

The moon gets yet brighter. Moncrieff is watching. Shading his eyes fromthe light, he is gazing across the marsh and listening to every sound. Nota quarter of a mile away is a little marshy lake. From behind it forseveral minutes he has heard mournful cries. They proceed from theburrowing owls; but they must have been startled! They even fly towardsthe camp, as if to give warning of the approach of the swarthy foe. 

Suddenly from the edge of the lake a sound like the blast of a trumpet isheard; another and another, and finally a chorus of trumpet notes; andshortly after a flock of huge flamingoes are seen wheeling in the moonlitair. 

'It is as I thought, ' says Moncrieff; 'they are creeping through thegrass. Hurry round, Dugald, and call the men quietly to quarters. '

Moncrieff himself, rifle in hand, climbs up to the top of the waggon. 

'Go down now, ' he tells the sentry. 'I mean to fire the first shot. '

He lies down to wait and watch. No bloodhound could have a better eye. Presently he sees a dark form raise itself near a tussock of grass. Thereis a sharp report, and the figure springs into the air, then falls dead onthe pampas. 

No need for the foe to conceal themselves any longer. With a wild andunearthly scream, that the very earth itself seems to re-echo, they springfrom their hiding and advance at the double towards the fort--for fort itis now. As they come yelling on they fire recklessly towards it. Theymight as well fire in the air. 

Moncrieff's bold Doric is heard, and to some purpose, at this juncture. 

'Keep weel down, men! Keep weel to cove_rrr_! Fire never a shot till hehas the o_rr_der. Let every bullet have its billet. Ready!Fire-_r_-_r_-_r_!'

Moncrieff rattled out the _r_'s indefinitely, and the rifles rattled outat the same time. So well aimed was the volley that the dark cloud seemedstaggered. The savages wavered for a time, but on they came again, redoubling their yells. They fired again, then, dropping their guns, rushed on towards the breastwork spears in hand. It was thus that theconflict commenced in dread earnest, and the revolvers now did fearfulexecution. The Indians were hurled back again and again, and finally theybroke and sought cover in the bush. Their wounded lay writhing and cryingout close beneath the rampart, and among these were also many who wouldnever move more in this world. 

On seeing the savages take to the bush, Moncrieff's anxiety knew nobounds. The danger of their discovering the horses was extreme. And ifthey did so, revenge would speedily follow defeat. They would either drivethem away across the pampas, or in their wrath slaughter them where theystood. 

What was to be done to avert so great a catastrophe? A forlorn hope wasspeedily formed, and this my two brothers volunteered to lead. On thefirst shout heard down in the hollow--indicating the finding of ourhorses--Donald, Dugald, and fifteen men were to rush out and turn theflank of the swarthy army if they could, or die in the attempt. 

Meanwhile, however, the enemy appeared bent on trying cunning anddesperate tactics. They were heard cutting down the bushes and smallertrees, and not long afterwards it looked as if the whole wood wasadvancing bodily up towards the breastwork on that side. 

A rapid and no doubt effective fire was now kept up by Moncrieff and hismen. This delayed the terrible _dénoûment_, but it was soon apparent thatif some more strategic movement was not made on our part it could notwholly thwart it. 

At all hazards that advancing wood must be checked, else the horrors offire would be the prelude to one of the most awful massacres that evertook place on the lonely pampas. 

'How is the wind?' asked Moncrieff, as if speaking to himself. 

'It blows from the wood towards the camp, ' said Dugald, 'but not quite ina line. See, I am ready to rush out and fire that pile. '

'No, Dugald, ' cried Donald; 'I am the elder--I will go. '

'Brother, I spoke first. '

'Yes, ' said Moncrieff, quietly, 'Dugald must go, and go now. Take fivemen, ten if you want them. '

'Five will do--five Gauchos, ' said Dugald. 

It was wise of Dugald to choose Gauchos. If the truth must be told, however, he did so to spare more valuable lives. But these wild plainsmenare the bravest of the brave, and are far better versed in the tactics ofIndian warfare than any white man could be. 

Dugald's plan would have been to issue out and make a bold rush across theopen space of seventy and odd yards that intervened between the movingpile of brushwood and the camp. Had this been done, every man would havebeen speared ere he got half across. 

The preparations for the sally were speedily made. Each man had a revolverand knife in his belt, and carried in his hands matches, a bundle of _pob_(or tarred yarn), and a small cask of petroleum oil. They issued from theside of the camp farthest from the wood, and, crawling on their faces, took advantage of every tussock of grass, waving thistle, or hemlock bushin their way. Meanwhile a persistent fire was kept up from behind thebreastwork, which, from the screams and yells proceeding from the savages, must have been doing execution. 

Presently, close behind the bush and near the ground, Moncrieff could seeDugald's signal, the waving of a white handkerchief, and firingimmediately ceased. 

Almost immediately afterwards smoke and flames ran all along the wood andincreased every moment. There was a smart volley of revolver firing, andin a minute more Dugald and his Gauchos were safe again within the fort. 

'Stand by now, lads, to defend the ramparts!' cried Moncrieff; 'the worstis yet to come. '

The worst was indeed to come. For under cover of the smoke the Indians nowmade ready for their final assault. In the few minutes of silence thatelapsed before the attack, the voice of a Gaucho malo was heard haranguinghis men in language that could not but inflame their blood and passions. He spoke of the riches, the wealth of the camp, of the revenge they weregoing to have on the hated white man who had stolen their hunting fields, and driven them to the barren plains and mountains to seek for food withthe puma and the snake, and finally began to talk of the pale-faceprisoners that would become their possession. 

'Give them another volley, men, ' said Moncrieff, grimly. 'Fire low throughthe smoke. '

It would have been better, probably, had our leader waited. 

Little need to precipitate an onslaught that could have but oneending--unless indeed assistance arrived from the fort. 

 * * * * *

The long, long hour of waiting came to an end at last, and the commanderand myself left the frontier fort at the head of the men. 

How terribly tedious the march back seemed! The officer would keep talkingas cheerfully as if going to a concert or evening party. I hardlyanswered, I hardly heard him. I felt ashamed of my anxiety, but still Icould not help it. I was but a young soldier. 

At last we are within sight, ay, and hearing, of the camp, and the eventsof the next hour float before my memory now as I write, like the shadowypantomime of some terrible dream. 

First we see smoke and fire, but hear no sound. All must be over, Ithink--tragedy and massacre, all--and the camp is on fire. 

Even the commander of our little force takes a serious view of the casenow. He draws his sword, looks to his revolver, and speaks to his men incalm, determined tones. 

For long minutes the silence round the camp is unbroken, but suddenlyrifles ring out in the still air, and I breathe more freely once again. Then the firing ceases, and is succeeded by the wild war-cries of theattacking savages, and the hoarse, defiant slogan of the defending Scots. 

'Hurrah!' I shout, 'we are yet in time. Oh, good sir, hurry on! Listen!'

Well might I say listen, for now high above the yell of savages and ringof revolvers rises the shriek of frightened women. 

I can stand this no longer. I set spur to my horse, and go dashing ontowards the camp. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

THE FLIGHT AND THE CHASE. 

The very last thing I had seen that cool Argentine commander do, was tolight a fresh cigarette with the stump of the old one. The next time I sawhim, he was standing by his wounded horse, in the moonlight, with a spearwound in his brow, but smoking still. 

The onslaught of the savages had been for a while a terrible one, but thesoldiers came in time, and the camp was saved. 

Hardly knowing what I did--not knowing till this day how I did it--I hadput my good steed at the breastwork, and, tired though he was, he fairlycleared it. Next I remember hewing my way, sword in hand, through a crowdof spear-armed savages, finding myself close to the ladies' caravan, andnext minute inside it. 

A single glance showed me all were safe. Aileen lay pale and motionless onthe sofa. Near her, revolver in hand, stood my brave aunt, and by thestove was old Jenny herself. 

'Oh, bless you, dear boy!' cried auntie. 'How glad we are to see you!'

"Deed are we, laddie!' chimed old Jenny; 'but--' and she grinned as shespoke, 'they rievin' Philistines will be fools if they come this roadagain. I've gi'en some o' them het [hot] hurdies. Ha, ha! I'm makin' adrap mair for them in case they come again. '

'Poor thing!' I think; 'she has gone demented. '

There was no time now, however, to ask for explanation; for although theIndians had really been driven off, the chase, and, woe is me, theslaughter, had commenced. 

And I shudder even yet when I think of that night's awful work on themoonlit pampas. Still, the sacrifice of so many redskins was calculated toinsure our safety. Moreover, had our camp fallen into the hands of thoseterrible Indians, what a blood-blotted page would have been added to thehistory of the Silver West!

It is but just and fair to Moncrieff, however, to say that he did all inhis power to stay the pursuit; but in vain. The soldiers were justreturning, tired and breathless, from a fruitless chase after the nowpanic-stricken enemy, when a wild shout was heard, and our Gauchos wereseen riding up from the woods, brandishing the very spears they hadcaptured from the Indians, and each one leading a spare horse. 

The _soldados_ welcomed them with a shout. Next minute each was mountedand galloping across the pampas in one long extended line. 

They were going to treat the Indians to a taste of their own tactics, forbetween each horse a lasso rope was fastened. 

All our men who were safe and unwounded now clambered into the waggon towitness the pursuit. Nothing could exceed the mad grandeur of thatcharge--nothing could withstand that wild rash. The Indians were moweddown by the lasso lines, then all we could see was a dark commingled massof rearing horses, of waving swords and spears, and struggling, writhingmen. 

Yells and screams died away at last, and no sound was now heard on thepampas except the thunder of the horses' hoofs, as our people returned tothe camp, and occasionally the trumpet-like notes of the startledflamingoes. 

As soon as daylight began to appear in the east the ramparts were razed, and soon after we were once more on the move, glad to leave the scene ofbattle and carnage. 

From higher ground, at some distance, I turned and looked back. Alreadythe air was darkened by flocks of pampas kites, among them manyslow-winged vultures, and I knew the awful feast that ever followsslaughter had already commenced. 

We had several Gauchos killed and one of our own countrymen, but many morewere wounded, some severely enough, so that our victory had cost us dear, and yet we had reason to be thankful, and my only surprise to this day isthat we escaped utter annihilation. 

It would be anything but fair to pass on to other scenes withoutmentioning the part poor old Jenny played in the defence of the caravan. 

Jenny was not demented--not she. Neither the fatigue of the journey, themany wonders she had witnessed, including the shower of golochs, nor theraid upon the camp had deprived Moncrieff's wonderful mither of her wits. I have said there was a stove burning in the caravan. As soon, then, asJenny found out that they were fortifying or entrenching the camp, andthat the Philistines, as she called them, might be expected at any moment, she awoke to a true sense of the situation. The first thing she did was toreplenish the fire, then she put the biggest saucepan on top of the stove, and as soon as it commenced to boil she began 'mealing in, ' as she calledit. 

'Oatmeal would have been best, ' she told my aunt; 'but, after a', ' sheadded, 'Indian meal, though it be but feckless stuff, is the kind o' kailthey blackamoors are maist used to. '

Aunt wondered what she meant, but was silent, and, indeed, she had otherthings to think about than Jenny and her strange doings, for Aileenrequired all her attention. 

[Illustration: 'Ye can Claw the Pat']

When, however, the fight had reached its very fiercest, when the campitself was enveloped in smoke, and the constant cracking of revolvers, theshrieks of the wounded men and clashing of weapons would have daunted aless bold heart than Jenny's--the old lady took her saucepan from thestove and stationed herself by the front door of the caravan. She had notlong to wait. Three of the fiercest of the Indian warriors had sprung tothe _coupé_ and were half up, 'But little kenned they Jenny's mettle, Or dreamt what lay in Jenny's kettle. '

With eyes that seemed to flash living fire, her grey hair streaming overher shoulders, she must have looked a perfect fury as she rushed out anddeluged the up-turned faces and shoulders of the savages with the boilingmess. They dropped yelling to the ground, and Jenny at once turned herattention to the back door of the van, where already one of the leadingGaucho malos--aunt's beautiful blackguards of the day before--had gainedfooting. This villain she fairly bonneted with the saucepan. 

'Your brithers have gotten the big half o' the kail, ' she cried, 'and yecan claw the pat. '

It was not till next evening that aunt told Moncrieff the brave part oldJenny had played. He smiled in his quiet way as he patted his mother'shand. 

'Just as I told ye, Miss M'Crimman, ' he said; 'mither's a ma_rrr_vel!'

But where had the bold Bombazo been during the conflict? Sword andrevolver in hand, in the foremost ranks, and wherever the battle raged thefiercest? Nay, reader, nay. The stern truth remains to be told. During allthe terrible tulzie Bombazo had never once been either seen or heard. Norcould he be anywhere found after the fight, nor even after the camp wasstruck, though search was made for him high and low. 

Some one suggested that he might have been overcome by fear, and mighthave hidden himself. Moncrieff looked incredulous. What! the bold Bombazobe afraid--the hero of a hundred fights, the slayer of lions, the terrorof the redskins, the brave hunter of pampas and prairie? Captain Rodrigode Bombazo hide himself? Yet where could he be? Among the slain? No. Takenprisoner? Alas! for the noble redman. Those who had escaped would hardlyhave thought of taking prisoners. Bombazo's name was shouted, the wood wassearched, the waggons overhauled, not a stone was left unturned, figuratively speaking, yet all in vain. 

But, wonderful to relate, what _men_ failed to do a _dog_ accomplished. Anhonest collie found Bombazo--actually scraped him up out of the sand, where he lay buried, with his head in a tussock of grass. It would beunfair to judge him too harshly, wrong not to listen to his vouchsafedexplanation; yet, sooth to say, to this very day I believe the little manhad hidden himself after the manner of the armadillos. 

'Where is my sword?' he shouted, staggering to his feet. 'Where is thefoe?'

The Scotchmen and even the Gauchos laughed in his face. He turned fromthem scornfully on his heel and addressed Moncrieff. 

'Dey tried to keel me, ' he cried. 'Dey stunned me and covered me up wit'sand. But here I am, and now I seek revenge. Ha! ha! I will seekrevenge!'

Old Jenny could stand it no longer. 

'Oh, ye shameless sinner!' she roared. 'Oh, ye feckless fusionless winner!Let me at him. _I'll_ gie him revenge. '

There was no restraining Jenny. With a yell like the war cry of a cluckinghen, she waved her umbrella aloft, and went straight for the hero. 

The blow intended for his head alighted lower down. Bombazo turned andfled, pursued by the remorseless Jenny; and not even once did she miss heraim till the terror of the redskins, to save his own skin, had takenrefuge beneath the caravan. 

 * * * * *

As at sea, so in travelling. Day after day, amid scenes that are for evernew, the constantly recurring adventure and incident suffice to banisheven thoughts of the dead themselves. But neither seafarers nor travellersneed be ashamed of this; it is only natural. God never condemns Hiscreatures to constant sorrow. The brave fellows, the honest Scot and theGauchos, that we had laid side by side in one grave in the littleburying-place at the frontier fort, were gone beyond recall. No amount ofsorrowing could bring them back. We but hoped they were happier now thaneven we were, and so we spoke of them no more; and in a week's timeeverything about our caravan and camp resumed its wonted appearance, andwe no longer feared the Indians. 

One Gaucho, however, had escaped, and there was still the probability hemight seek for revenge some other day. 

We have left the bleak pampas land, although now and then we come to bareprairie land but scantily furnished with even bushes, and destitute ofgrass; houses and _estancias_ become more frequent, and _fondas_ too, butnothing like that fearful _fonda_ in the prairie--the scene of themassacre. 

We have passed through San Lui--too wretched a place to say much about;and even La Paz and Santa Rosa; and on taking her usual seat one forenoonin front of the caravan, old Jenny's eyes grew bright and sparkling withvery delight. 

'Saw anybody ever the like o' that?' she cried, as she raised both herhands and eyes cloudwards. But it was not the clouds old Jenny wasmarvelling at--for here we were in the Province of Mendoza, and ameasurable distance from the beautiful city itself; and instead of thebarren lands we had recently emerged from, beheld a scene of such naturalloveliness and fertility, that we seemed to have suddenly dropped into anew world. 

The sky was blue and almost cloudless; winter though it was, the fieldswere clad in emerald green; the trees, the vineyards, the verandahedhouses, the comfortable dwellings, the cattle, the sheep, and flocks ofpoultry--all testified to the fact that in summer this must indeed be aparadise. 

'What do you think of all this, mither?' said Moncrieff, with a happysmile. He was riding close to the caravan _coupé_. 

'Think o' it, laddie! Loshie me, laddie! it beats the braes o' Foudlan'!It is surely the garden o' Eden we're coming to at last. '

It was shortly after this that Moncrieff went galloping on ahead. We couldsee him miles and miles away, for the road was as straight as one of theavenues in some English lord's domains. Suddenly he disappeared. Had theearth swallowed him up? Not quite. He had merely struck into a side path, and here we too turned with our whole cavalcade; and our road now lay awayacross a still fertile but far more open country. After keeping to thisroad for miles, we turned off once more and headed for the distantmountains, whose snow-clad, rugged tops formed so grand a horizon to thelandscape. 

On we journey for many a long hour, and the sun goes down and down in thewest, and sinks at last behind the hills; and oh, with what ineffablysweet tints and shades of pink and blue and purple his farewell rays paintthe summits!

Twilight is beginning to fall, and great bats are flitting about. We comewithin sight of a wide and well-watered valley; and in the very centrethereof, and near a broad lagoon which reminds us somewhat of dear oldCoila, stands a handsome _estancia_ and farmyard. There are rows and rowsof gigantic poplar-trees everywhere in this glen, and the houseitself--mansion, I might almost say--lies in the midst of a cloud of treesthe names of which we cannot even guess. There was altogether such ahome-like look about the valley, that I knew at once our long, longjourney was over, and our weary wanderings finished for a time. There wasnot a very great deal of romance in honest Moncrieff's nature, but as hepointed with outstretched arm to the beautiful _estancia_ by the lake, andsaid, briefly, 'Mither, there's your hame!' I felt sure and certain thoseblue eyes of his were moist with tears, and that there was the slightestperceptible waver in his manly voice. 

But, behold! they have seen us already at the _estancia_. 

There is a hurrying and scurrying to and fro, and out and in. We noticethis, although the figures we see look no larger than ants, so clear andtransparent is even the gloaming air in this wonderful new land of ours. 

By and by we see these same figures on horseback, coming away from thefarm, and hurrying down the road towards us. One, two, three, six! Why, there must be well-nigh a score of them altogether. Nearer and nearer theycome, and now we see their arms wave. Nearer still, and we hear themshout; and now at length they are on us, with us, and around us, wavingtheir caps, laughing, talking, and shaking hands over and over again--asoften as not twice or thrice with the same person. Verily they are halfdelirious with joy and wholly hysterical. 

What volleys of questions have to be asked and answered! What volumes ofnews to get and to give! What hurrying here and there and up and down toadmire the new horses and mules, the new waggons and caravan--to admireeverything! while the half-frightened looks those sturdy, sun-browned, bearded men cast at auntie and Aileen were positively comical to witness!

Then, when the first wave of joyous excitement had partially expendeditself--

'Stand back, boys!' shouted Moncrieff's partner, a bold-faced littleWelshman, with hair and beard just on the turn; 'stand back, my lads, andgive them one more little cheer. '

But was it a little cheer? Nay, but a mighty rattling cheer--a cheer thatcould have issued only from brave British throats; a cheer that I almostexpected to hear re-echoed back from the distant mountains. 

Ah! but it _was_ echoed back. Echoed by us, the new-comers, and withinterest too, our faithful Gauchos swelling the chorus with their shrillbut not unmusical voices. 

But look! more people are coming down the road. The welcome home is nothalf over yet. Yonder are the lads and lasses, English, Irish, Castilianand Scotch, who have no horses to ride. Foremost among them is aHighlander in tartan trews and bagpipes. And if the welcome these give usis not altogether so boisterous it is none the less sincere. 

In another hour we are all safe at home. All and everything appears to usvery strange at first, but we soon settle down, and if we marvelled at theoutside of Moncrieff's mansion, the interior of it excites our wonder toeven a greater degree. Who could have credited the brawny Scot with somuch refinement of taste? The rooms were large, the windows were bowers, and bowers of beauty too, around which climbed and trailed--winter thoughit was--flowers of such strange shapes and lovely colours that the best ofour floral favourites in this country would look tame beside them. None ofthe walls were papered, but all were painted, and many had pictures inlight, airy and elegant frames. The furniture too was all light andelegant, and quite Oriental in appearance. Oriental did I say? Nay, buteven better; it was Occidental. One room in particular took my aunt'sfancy. This was to be the boudoir, and everything in it was the work ofIndian hands. It opened on to a charming trellised verandah, and thencewas a beautiful garden which to-night was lit up with coloured lanterns, and on the whole looked like a scene in some Eastern fairy tale. 

'And would you believe it, Aileen, ' said Moncrieff, when he was doneshowing us round the rooms; 'would you believe it, auntie, when I camehere first my good partner and I had no place to live in for years but areed shanty, a butt and a ben, mither mine, with never a stick offurniture in it, and neither a chair nor stool nor table worth thename?'

'That is so, Miss M'Crimman, ' said the partner, Mr. Jones. 'And I think mydear friend Moncrieff will let the ladies see the sort of place we livedin. '

'This way, then, ladies, ' said the big Scot. He seized a huge naphtha lampas he spoke, and strode before them through the garden. Arrived at the endof it they came to a strange little hut built apparently of mud andstraw. 

With little ceremony he kicked open the rickety door, and made them enter. Both aunt and Aileen did so, marvelling much to find themselves in a roomnot ten feet wide, and neither round nor square. The roof was blackenedrafters and straw, the floor was hardened clay. A bed--a very rudeone--stood in one corner. It was supported by horses' bones; the table inthe centre was but a barrel lid raised on crossed bones. 

'Won't you sit down, ladies?' said Moncrieff, smiling. 

He pointed to a seat as he spoke. It was formed of horses' skulls. 

Aunt smiled too, but immediately after looked suddenly serious, gatheredher dress round her with a little shudder, and backed towards the door. 

'Come away, ' she said; 'I've seen enough. '

What she had seen more particularly was an awful-looking crimson and greyspider as big as a soft-shell crab. He was squatting on a bone in onecorner, glaring at her with his little evil eyes, and moving hishorizontal mandibles as if he would dearly like to eat her. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

LIFE ON AN ARGENTINE ESTANCIA. 

I verily believe that Britons, whether English, Irish, or Scotch, are allborn to wander, and born colonists. There really seems to be something inthe very air of a new land, be it Australia, America, or the Silver West, that brings all their very best and noblest qualities to the surface, andoftentimes makes men--bold, hardy, persevering men--of individuals who, had they stayed in this old cut-and-dry country, would never have beenanything better than louts or Johnnie Raws. I assure the reader that Ispeak from long experience when I make these remarks, and on any Saturdayevening when I happen to be in London, and see poor young fellows cominghome to garrets, perhaps with their pittance in their pockets, I feel forthem from the very depths of my soul. And sometimes I sigh and murmur tomyself----

'Oh dear me!' I say, 'if my purse were only half as big as my heart, wouldn't I quickly gather together a thousand of these white slaves andsail merrily off with them to the Land of the Silver West! And men wouldlearn to laugh there who hardly ever smiled before, and tendons would waxwiry, and muscles hard, and pale faces grow brown with the tints ofhealth. And health would mean work, and work would mean wealth, and--but, heigho! what is the good of dreaming? Only some day--yes, _some_ day--andwhat a glorious sunrise it will be for this empire--Government will seeits way to grant free passages to far-off lands, in which there is peaceand plenty, work and food for all, and where the bread one eats is neverdamped by falling tears. God send that happy day! And send it soon!

It is the memory of our first months and years of a downright pleasantlife that makes me write like this. We poor lads--my brothers and I--poor, but determined, found everything so enjoyable at our new home in theSilver West that oftentimes we could not help wishing that thousands oftoiling mortals from Glasgow and other great overcrowded cities would onlycome out somehow and share our posy. For really, to put it in plain andsimple language, next to the delight of enjoying anything oneself, shouldit only be an apple, is the pleasure of seeing one's neighbour have abite. 

Now here is a funny thing, but it is a fact. The air of Mendoza is sowonderfully dry and strong and bracing that it makes men of boys in a veryshort time, and makes old people young again. It might not smooth awaywrinkles from the face, or turn grey hair brown, or even make two hairsgrow where only one grew before; but it does most assuredly rejuvenate theheart, and shakes all the wrinkles out of that. Out here it is no uncommonthing for the once rheumatic to learn to dance, while stiff-jointedindividuals who immigrated with crutches under their arms, pitch thesecrutches into the irrigation canals, and take to spades and guns instead. 

It is something in the air, I think, that works these wondrous changes, though I am sure I could not say what. It may be oxygen in double doses, or it may be ozone, or even laughing gas; but there it is, and whosoeverreads these lines and doubts what I say, has only to take flight for thebeautiful province of Mendoza, and he shall remain a sceptic no longer. 

Well, as soon as we got over the fatigues of our long journey, and beganto realize the fact that we were no longer children of the desert, nolonger nomads and gipsies, my brothers and I set to work with a heartygood-will that astonished even ourselves. In preparing our new homes we, and all the other settlers of this infant colony as well, enjoyed the samekind of pleasure that Robinson Crusoe must have done when he and his manFriday set up house for themselves in the island of Juan Fernandez. 

Even the labourers or 'hands' whom Moncrieff had imported had their owndwellings to erect, but instead of looking upon this as a hardship, theysaid that this was the fun of the thing, and that it was precisely herewhere the laugh came in. 

Moreover they worked for themselves out of hours, and I dare say that ismore than any of them would have done in the old country. 

Never once was the labour of the _estancia_ neglected, nor the state ofthe aqueducts, nor Moncrieff's flocks and herds, nor his fences. 

Some of these men had been ploughmen, others shepherds, but every one ofthem was an artisan more or less, and it is just such men that dowell--men who know a good deal about country life, and can deftly use thespade, the hoe, the rake, the fork, as well as the hammer, the axe, thesaw, and the plane. Thanks to the way dear father had brought us up, mybrothers and I were handy with all sorts of tools, and we were ratherproud than otherwise of our handicraft. 

I remember that Dugald one day, as we sat at table, after looking at hishands--they had become awfully brown--suddenly said to Moncrieff, 'Oh, by the by, Brother Moncrieff, there is one thing that I'm ready towager you forgot to bring out with you from England. '

'What was that?' said Moncrieff, looking quite serious. 

'Why, a supply of kid gloves, white and coloured. '

We all laughed. 

'My dear boy, ' said this huge brother of ours, 'the sun supplies the kidgloves, and it strikes me, lad, you've a pair of coloured ones already. '

'Yes, ' said Dugald, 'black-and-tan. '

'But, dear laddies, ' old Jenny put in, 'if ye really wad like mittens, I'll shortly shank a curn for ye. '

'Just listen to the old braid Scotch tongue o' that mither o'moine--"shortly shank a curn. "[5] Who but an Aberdonian could understandthat?'

But indeed poor old Jenny was a marvel with her 'shank, ' as she called herknitting, and almost every third day she turned off a splendid pair ofrough woollen stockings for one or other of her bairns, as she termed usgenerically. And useful weather-defiant articles of hosiery they were too. When our legs were encased in these, our feet protected by a pair ofdouble-soled boots, and our ankles further fortified by leather gaiters, there were few snakes even we were afraid to tackle. 

The very word 'snake, ' or 'serpent, ' makes some people shudder, and it isas well to say a word or two about these ophidians here, and have donewith them. I have, then, no very wild adventures to record concerningthose we encountered on our _estancias_. Nor were either my brothers ormyself much afraid of them, for a snake--this is my firm belief--willnever strike a human being except in self-defence; and, of all thethousands killed annually in India itself by ophidians, most of thevictims have been tramping about with naked feet, or naked legs at least. 

 * * * * *

Independent of the pure, wholesome, bracing air, there appeared to us tobe another peculiarity in the climate which is worthy of note. It is_calmative_. There is more in that simple sentence than might at first beimagined, and the effect upon settlers might be best explained by givingan example: A young man, then, comes to this glorious country fresh fromall the excitement and fever of Europe, where people are, as a rule, overcrowded and elbowing each other for a share of the bread that is notsufficient to feed all; he settles down, either to steady work under amaster, or to till his own farm and mind his own flocks. In either case, while feeling labour to be not only a pleasure, but actually a luxury, there is no heat of blood and brain; there is no occasion to either chaseor hurry. Life now is not like a game of football on Rugby lines--allscurry, push, and perspiration. The new-comer's prospects are everythingthat could be desired, and--mark this--_he does not live for the futureany more than the present_. There is enough of everything around him_now_, so that his happiness does not consist in building upon the far-off_then_, which strugglers in this Britain of ours think so much about. Thesettler then, I say, be he young or old, can afford to enjoy himselfto-day, certain in his own mind that to-morrow will provide for itself. 

But this calmness of mind, which really is a symptom of glorious health, never merges into the dreamy laziness and ignoble activity exhibited byBrazilians in the east and north of him. 

My brothers and I were happily saved a good deal of business worry inconnection with the purchase of our _estancia_, so, too, were the newsettlers, for Moncrieff, with that long Scotch head of his, had everythingcut and dry, as he called it, so that the signing of a few papers and thewriting of a cheque or two made us as proud as any Scottish laird in theold country. 

'You must creep before you walk, ' Moncrieff told us; 'you mustn't go likea bull at a gate. Just look before you "loup. "'

So we consulted him in everything. 

Suppose, for instance, we wanted another mule or horse, we went toMoncrieff for advice. 

'Can you do without it?' he would say. 'Go home and settle that questionbetween you, and if you find you can't, come and tell me, and I'll let youhave the beast as cheap as you can buy it anywhere. '

Well, we started building our houses. Unlike the pampas, Mendoza _can_boast of stone and brick, and even wood, though round our district a dealof this had been planted. The woods that lay on Moncrieff's colony hadbeen reared more for shelter to the flocks against the storms and tempeststhat often sweep over the country. 

In the more immediate vicinity of the dwelling-houses, with the exceptionof some splendid elms and plane-trees, and the steeple-high solemn-lookingpoplar, no great growth of wood was encouraged. For it must be rememberedwe were living in what Moncrieff called uncanny times. The Indians[6] werestill a power in the country, and their invasions were looked forperiodically. The State did not then give the protection against this foeit does now. True, there existed what were called by courtesy frontierforts; they were supposed to billet soldiers there, too, but as these menwere often destitute of a supply of ammunition, and spent much of theirtime playing cards and drinking the cheap wines of the country, thesettlers put but little faith in them, and the wandering pampa Indianstreated them with disdain. 

Our houses, then, for safety's sake, were all built pretty close together, and on high ground, so that we had a good view all over the beautifulvalley. They could thus be more easily defended. 

Here and there over the _estancias_, _puestos_, as they were called, wereerected for the convenience of the shepherds. They were mere huts, but, nevertheless, they were far more comfortable in every way than many acrofter's cottage in the Scottish Highlands. 

Round the dwellings of the new settlers, which were built in the form of asquare, each square, three in all, having a communication, a rampart andditch were constructed. The making of these was mere pastime to thesehardy Scots, and they took great delight in the work, for not only wouldit enable them to sleep in peace and safety, but the keeping of it inthorough decorative repair, as house agents say, would always form apleasant occupation for spare time. 

The mansion, as Moncrieff's beautiful house came to be called, wassimilarly fortified, but as it stood high in its grounds the rampart didnot hide the building. Moreover, the latter was partially decorated insidewith flowers, and the external embankment always kept as green as anEnglish lawn in June. 

The ditches were wide and deep, and were so arranged that in case ofinvasion they could be filled with water from a natural lake high up onthe brae lands. For that matter they might have been filled at any time, or kept filled, but Moncrieff had an idea--and probably he was right--thattoo much stagnant, or even semi-stagnant water near a house rendered itunhealthy. 

As soon as we had bought our claims and marked them out, each settler'sdistinct from the other, but ours--my brothers' and mine--all in one lot, we commenced work in earnest. There was room and to spare for us all aboutthe Moncrieff mansion and farmyard, we--the M'Crimmans--being guests for atime, and living indoors, the others roughing it as best they could in theout-houses, some of which were turned into temporary huts. 

Nothing could exceed the beauty of Moncrieff's _estancia_. It was milesand miles in extent, and more like a lovely garden than anything else. Thefields were all square. Round each, in tasteful rows, waved noble trees, the weird and ghostly poplar, whose topmost branches touched the cloudsapparently, the wide-spreading elm, the shapely chestnut, the dark, mysterious cypress, the fairy-leaved acacia, the waving willow and sturdyoak. These trees had been planted with great taste and judgment around thefields, and between all stretched hedges of laurel, willow, and variouskinds of shrubs. The fields themselves were not without trees; in fact, trees were dotted over most of them, notably chestnuts, and many speciesof fruit trees. 

But something else added to the extreme beauty of these fields, namely, the irrigation canals--I prefer the word canals to ditches. The highest ofall was very deep and wide, and was supplied with water from the distanthills and river, while in its turn it supplied the whole irrigation systemof the _estancia_. The plan for irrigating the fields was the simplestthat could be thought of, but it was quite as perfect as it was simple. 

Add to the beauty of the trees and hedges the brilliancy of trailingflowers of gorgeous hues and strange, fantastic shapes; let some of thosetrees be actually hanging gardens of beauty; let flowers float ever on thewaters around the fields, and the fields themselves be emerald green--thenimagine sunshine, balmy air, and perfume everywhere, and you will havesome idea of the charm spread from end to end of Moncrieff's great_estancia_. 

But there was another kind of beauty about it which I have not yetmentioned--namely, its flocks and herds and poultry. 

A feature of the strath, or valley, occupied by this little Scoto-Welshcolony was the sandhills or dunes. 

'Do you call those sandhills?' I said to Moncrieff one day, shortly afterour arrival. 'Why, they are as green and bonnie as the Broad Hill on thelinks of Aberdeen. '

Moncrieff smiled, but looked pleased. 

'Man!' he replied, 'did you ever hear of the proverb that speaks aboutmaking mountains of mole-hills? Well, that's what I've done up yonder. When my partner and I began serious work on these fields of ours, thosebits of hills were a constant trouble and menace to us. They were just asbig then, maybe, as they are now--about fifty feet high at the highest, perhaps, but they were bare sandy hillocks, constantly changing shape andeven position with every big storm, till a happy thought struck mypartner, and we chose just the right season for acting on it. We got theGauchos to gather for us pecks and bushels of all kinds of wild seed, especially that of the long-rooted grasses, and these we sowed all overthe mole-hills, as we called them, and we planted bushes here and there, and also in the hollows, and, lo! the mole-hills were changed into fairylittle mountains, and the bits o' glens between into bosky dells. '

'Dear Brother Moncrieff, ' I said, 'you are a genius, and I'm so glad I metyou. What would I have been without you?'

'Twaddle, man! nonsensical havers and twaddle! If you hadn't met me youwould have met somebody else; and if you hadn't met him, you would haveforegathered wi' experience; and, man, experience is the best teacher ina' the wide worruld. '

In laying out and planning our farm, my brothers and I determined, however, not to wait for experience of our own, but just take advantage ofMoncrieff's. That would sustain us, as the oak sustains the ivy. 

-----

 [5] 'Shortly shank a curn'--speedily knit a few pairs. 

 [6] Since then the Indians have been swept far to the south, and so hemmed in that the provinces north of their territory are as safe from invasion as England itself. --G. S. 

CHAPTER XV. 

WE BUILD OUR HOUSE AND LAY OUT GARDENS. 

About a hundred yards to the left of the buildings erected for the newcolony and down near the lake, or laguna, was an elevated piece of groundabout an acre in extent. It was bounded on two sides by water, which wouldthus form for it a kind of natural protection in case of Indian invasion. It really was part and parcel of Moncrieff's claim or land, and at anearly date in his career, thinking probably it might come in handy someday for a site on which to build, he had taken considerable pains to plantit with rows of beautiful trees, especially on the sides next the waterand facing the west. 

My brothers and I arranged to have this, and Moncrieff was well pleased tohave us so near to him. A more excellent position for a house could hardlybe, and we determined it should be a good substantial one, and of as greatarchitectural beauty as possible. 

Having therefore laid out our farm proper, and stocked it with sheep andcattle, positioned our shepherds, and installed our labourers and generalservants under the charge of a _capataz_, or working bailiff, we turnedour attention to the erection of our house, or mansion, as Dugald grandlycalled it. 

'Of course you will cut your coat according to your cloth, ' saidMoncrieff, as he came one evening into the room we had set apart for ourprivate study. He had found us to-night with our heads all together overa huge sheet of paper on which we were planning out our house. 

'Oh yes, ' said Donald, 'that we must do. '

'But, ' said Dugald, 'we do not expect to remain all our lives downrightpoor settlers. '

'That I am sure you won't. '

'Well, I propose building a much bigger house than we really want, so thatwhen we do get a bit rich we can furnish it and set up--set up--'

'Set up a carriage and pair, eh?' said Donald, who was very matter offact--'a carriage and pair, Dugald, a billiard-room, Turkey carpets, wovenall in one piece, a cellar of old wine, a butler in black and flunkeys inplush--is that your notion?'

Donald and I laughed, and Dugald looked cross. 

Moncrieff did not laugh: he had too much tact, and was far tookind-hearted to throw cold water over our young brother's ambitions andaspirations. 

'And what sort of a house do you propose?' he said to us. 

As he spoke he took a chair at Dugald's side of the table and put his armgently across the boy's shoulders. There was very much in this simple act, and I feel sure Dugald loved him for it, and felt he had some one toassist his schemes. 

'Oh, ' replied Donald, 'a small tasteful cottage. That would suit well forthe present, I think. What do you think, Murdoch?'

'I think with you, ' I replied. 

After having heard Moncrieff speaking so much about cutting coatsaccording to cloth and looking before 'louping, ' and all the rest of it, we were hardly prepared to hear him on the present occasion say boldly, 'And _I_ think with Dugald. '

'Bravo, Moncrieff!' cried Dugald. 'I felt sure--'

'Bide a wee, though, lad. Ca' canny. [7] Now listen, the lot o' ye. Ye see, Murdoch man, your proposed cottage would cost a good bit of money andtime and trouble, and when you thought of a bigger place, down thatcottage must come, with an expense of more time and more trouble, evenallowing that money was of little object. Besides, where are you going tolive after your cottage is knocked down and while your mansion isbuilding? So I say Dugald is right to some extent. Begin building your bighouse bit by bit. '

'In wings?'

'Preceesely, sirs; ye can add and add as you like, and as you can affordit. '

It was now our time to cry, 'Bravo, Moncrieff!'

'I wonder, Donald, we didn't think of this plan. '

'Ah, ' said Moncrieff, 'ye canna put young he'ds on auld shoulders, as mymither says. '

So Moncrieff's plan was finally adopted--we would build our house wing bywing. 

It took us weeks, however, to decide in what particular style ofarchitecture it should be built. Among the literature which Moncrieff hadbrought out from England with him was a whole library in itself of thebound volumes of good magazines; and it was from a picture in one of thesethat we finally decided what our Coila Villa should be like, though, ofcourse, the plan would be slightly altered to suit circumstances ofclimate, &c. It was to be--briefly stated--a winged bungalow of only onestory, with a handsome square tower and portico in the centre, andverandahs nearly all round. So one wing and the tower was commenced atonce. But bricks were to be made, and timber cut and dried and fashioned, and no end of other things were to be accomplished before we actually setabout the erection. 

To do all these things we appointed a little army of Gauchos, with two orthree handy men-of-all-work from Scotland. 

Meanwhile our villa gardens were planned and our bushes and trees wereplanted. 

Terraces, too, were contrived to face the lake, and Dugald one eveningproposed a boat-house and boat, and this was carried without a dissentientvoice. 

Dugald was extremely fond of our sister Flora. We only wondered that henow spoke about her so seldom. But if he spoke but little of her hethought the more, and we could see that all his plans for thebeautification and adornment of the villa had but one end and object--thedelight and gratification of its future little mistress. 

Dear old Dugald! he had such a kind lump of a heart of his own, and nevertook any of our chaff and banter unpleasantly. But I am quite sure that asfar as he himself was concerned he never would have troubled himself abouteven the boat-house or the terraced gardens either, for every idle hourthat he could spare he spent on the hill, as he called it, with his dog--alovely Irish setter--and his gun. 

I met him one morning going off as usual with Dash, the setter, closebeside the little mule he rode, and with his gun slung over his back. 

'Where away, old man?' I said. 

'Only to a little laguna I've found among the hills, and I mean to have agrand bag to-day. '

'Well, you're off early!'

'Yes; there is little to be done at home, and there are some rare fineducks up yonder. '

'You'll be back to luncheon?'

'I'll try. If not, don't wait. '

'Not likely; ta-ta! Good luck to you! But you really ought to have aGaucho with you. '

'Nonsense, Murdoch! I don't need a groom. Dash and old Tootsie, the mule, are all I want. '

It was the end of winter, or rather beginning of spring, but Moncrieff hadnot yet declared close time, and Dugald managed to supply the larder withmore species of game than we could tell the names of. Birds, especially, he brought home on his saddle and in his bag; birds of all sizes, fromthe little luscious dove to the black swan itself; and one day he actuallycame along up the avenue with a dead ostrich. He could ride that mule ofhis anywhere. I believe he could have ridden along the parapet of LondonBridge, so we were never surprised to see Dugald draw rein at the lowersitting-room window, within the verandah. He was always laughing and merryand mischievous-looking when he had had extra good luck; but the day helanded that ostrich he was fairly wild with excitement. The body of it wasgiven to the Gauchos, and they made very merry over it: invited theirfriends, in fact, and roasted the huge bird whole out of doors. They didso in true Patagonian fashion--to wit, the ostrich was first trussed andcleaned, a roaring fire of wood having been made, round stones were madealmost red-hot. The stones were for stuffing, though this kind of stuffingis not very eatable, but it helps to cook the bird. The fire was thenraked away, and the dinner laid down and covered up. Meanwhile theGauchos, male and female, girls and boys, had a dance. The ubiquitousguitars, of course, were the instruments, and two of these made not a badlittle band. After dinner they danced again, and wound up by wishingDugald all the good luck in the world, and plenty more ostriches. Thefeathers of this big game-bird were carefully packed and sent home tomother and Flora. 

Well, we had got so used to Dugald's solitary ways that we never thoughtanything of even his somewhat prolonged absence on the hill, for heusually dropped round when luncheon was pretty nearly done. There wasalways something kept warm for 'old Dugald, ' as we all called him, and Ideclare it did every one of us good to see him eat. His appetite wascertainly the proverbial appetite of a hunter. 

On this particular day, however, old Dugald did not return to luncheon. 

'Perhaps, ' said Donald, 'he is dining with some of the shepherds, orhaving "a pick at a priest's, " as he calls it. '

'Perhaps, ' I said musingly. The afternoon wore away, and there were nosigns of our brother coming, so I began to get rather uneasy, and spoke toDonald about it. 

'He may have met with an accident, ' I said, 'or fifty things may havehappened. '

'Well, ' replied Donald, 'I don't suppose fifty things have happened; butas you seem a bit anxious, suppose we mount our mules, take a Gaucho withus, and institute a search expedition?'

'I'm willing, ' I cried, jumping up, 'and here's for off!'

There was going to be an extra good dinner that day, because we expectedletters from home, and our runner would be back from the distantpost-office in good time to let us read our epistles before the gongsounded and so discuss them at table. 

'Hurry up, boys; don't be late, mind!' cried aunt, as our mules werebrought round to the portico, and we were mounted. 

'All right, auntie dear!' replied Donald, waving his hand; 'and mind thosepartridges are done to a turn; we'll be all delightfully hungry. '

The Gaucho knew all Dugald's trails well, and when we mentioned the smalldistant laguna, he set out at once in the direction of the glen. He madeso many windings, however, and took so many different turns through bushand grass and scrub, that we began to wonder however Dugald could havefound the road. 

But Dugald had a way of his own of getting back through even a cactuslabyrinth. It was a very simple one, too. He never 'loaded up, ' as hetermed it; that is, he did not hang his game to his saddle till he meantto start for home; then he mounted, whistled to Dash, who capered andbarked in front of the mule, permitted the reins to lie loosely on theanimal's neck, and--there he was! For not only did the good beast take himsafely back to Coila, as we called our _estancia_, but he took him by thebest roads; and even when he seemed to Dugald's human sense to be goingabsolutely and entirely wrong, he never argued with him. 

 'Reason raise o'er instinct, if you can; In this 'tis God directs, in that 'tis man. '

'You are certain he will come this way, Zambo?' I said to our Gaucho. 

'Plenty certain, señor. I follow de trail now. '

I looked over my saddle-bow; so did Donald, but no trail could wesee--only the hard, yellow, sandy gravel. 

We came at last to the hilly regions. It was exceedingly quiet and stillhere; hardly a creature of any kind to be seen except now and then a kite, or even condor, the latter winging his silent way to the distantmountains. At times we passed a biscacha village. The biscacha is not atribe of Indians, but, like the coney, a very feeble people, who dwell incaves or burrow underground, but all day long may be seen playing aboutthe mounds they raise, or sitting on their hind legs on top of them. Theyare really a species of prairie-dog. With them invariably live a tribe oflittle owls--the burrowing owls--and it seems to be a mutual understandingthat the owls have the principal possession of these residential chambersby day, while the biscachas occupy them by night. This arrangement answerswonderfully well, and I have proved over and over again that they areexceedingly fond of each other. The biscachas themselves are not verydemonstrative, either in their fun or affection, but if one of them bekilled, and is lying dead outside the burrow, the poor owl often exhibitsthe most frantic grief for the murder of his little housekeeper, and willeven show signs of a desire to attack the animal--especially if adog--which has caused his affliction. 

Donald and I, with our guide, now reached the land of the giant cacti. Weall at home here in Britain know something of the beauty of the commonprickly cactus that grows in window-gardens or in hot-houses, andsurprises us with the crimson glory of its flowers, which grow from suchodd parts of the plant; but here we were in the land of the cacti. Dugaldknew it well, and used to tell us all about them; so tall, so stately, sostrange and weird, that we felt as if in another planet. Already the bloomwas on some of them--for in this country flowers soon hear the voice ofspring--but in the proper season nothing that ever I beheld can surpassthe gorgeous beauty of these giant cacti. 

The sun began to sink uncomfortably low down on the horizon, and myanxiety increased every minute. Why did not Dugald meet us? Why did we noteven hear the sound of his gun, for the Gaucho told us we were close tothe laguna?

Presently the cacti disappeared behind us, and we found ourselves in openground, with here and there a tall, weird-looking tree. How thosetrees--they were not natives--had come there we were at first at a loss tounderstand, but when we reached the foot of a grass-grown hill or sanddune, and came suddenly on the ruins of what appeared a Jesuit hermitageor monastery, the mystery was explained. 

On rounding a spur of this hill, lo! the lake; and not far from the footof a tree, behold! our truant brother. Beside him was Dash, and not agreat way off, tied to a dwarf algaroba tree, stood the mule. Dugald wassitting on the ground, with his gun over his arm, gazing up into thetree. 

'Dugald! Dugald!' I cried. 

But Dugald never moved his head. Was he dead, or were these green sanddunes fairy hillocks, and my brother enchanted?

I leapt off my mule, and, rifle in hand, went on by myself, never takingmy eyes off my brother, and with my heart playing pit-a-pat against myribs. 

'Dugald!' I said again. 

He never moved. 

'Dugald, speak!'

He spoke now almost in a stage whisper:

'A lion in the tree. Have you your rifle?'

I beckoned to my brother to come on, and at the same moment the monstergave voice. I was near enough now to take aim at the puma; he was lying ina cat-like attitude on one of the highest limbs. But the angry growl andthe moving tail told me plainly enough he was preparing to spring, andspring on Dugald. It was the first wild beast I had ever drawn bead upon, and I confess it was a supreme moment; oh, not of joy, but, --shall I sayit?--fear. 

What if I should miss!

But there was no time for cogitation. I raised my rifle. At the self-samemoment, as if knowing his danger, the brute sprang off the bough. Thebullet met him in mid-air, and--_he fell dead at Dugald's feet_. 

The ball had entered the neck and gone right on and through the heart. Onecoughing roar, an opening and shutting of the terrible jaws--which werecovered with blood and froth--and a few convulsive movements of the hindlegs, and all was over. 

'Thank Heaven, you are saved, dear old Dugald!' I cried. 

'Yes, ' said Dugald, getting up and coolly stretching himself; 'but you'vebeen a precious long time in coming. '

'And you were waiting for us?'

'I couldn't get away. I was sitting here when I noticed the lion. Dash andI were having a bit of lunch. My cartridges are all on the mule, so I'vebeen staring fixedly at that monster ever since. I knew it was my onlychance. If I had moved away, or even turned my head, he would have had meas sure as--'

'But, I say, ' he added, touching the dead puma with his foot, '_isn't_ hea fine fellow? What a splendid skin to send home to Flora!'

This shows what sort of a boy Brother Dugald was; and now that all dangerwas past and gone, although I pretended to be angry with him for hisrashness, I really could not help smiling. 

'But what a crack shot you are, Murdoch!' he added; 'I had no idea--I--Ireally couldn't have done much better myself. '

'Well, Dugald, ' I replied, 'I may do better next time, but to tell thetruth I aimed at the beast _when he was on the branch_. '

'And hit him ten feet below it. Ha! ha! ha!'

We all laughed now. We could afford it. 

The Gaucho whipped the puma out of his skin in less than a minute, and offwe started for home. 

I was the hero of the evening; though Dugald never told them of my funnyaim. Bombazo, who had long since recovered his spirits, was well to thefront with stories of his own personal prowess and narrow escapes; butwhile relating these he never addressed old Jenny, for the ancient andhumorsome dame had told him one day that 'big lees were thrown awa' uponher. '

What a happy evening we spent, for our Gaucho runner had brought

 'Good news from Home!'

-----

 [7] 'Ca' Canny' = Drive slowly. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

SUMMER IN THE SILVER WEST. 

Though it really was not so very long since we had said farewell to ourfriends in Scotland and the dear ones at home, it seemed an age. So it isno wonder, seeing that all were well, our letters brought us joy. Not forweeks did we cease to read them over and over again and talk about them. One of mine was from Archie Bateman, and, much to my delight and that ofmy brothers, he told us that he had never ceased worrying his father andmother to let him come out to the Silver West and join us, and that theywere yielding fast. He meant, he said, to put the screw on a little hardersoon, by running away and taking a cruise as far as Newcastle-on-Tyne in acoal-boat. He had no doubt that this would have the desired effect ofshowing his dearly-beloved _pater et mater_ that he was in downrightearnest in his desire to go abroad. So we were to expect him nextsummer--'that is, ' he added, 'summer in England, and winter with you. '

Another letter of mine was from Irene M'Rae. I dare say there must havebeen a deal of romance about me even then, for Irene's delightful littlematter-of-fact and prosaic letter gave me much pleasure, and I--I believeI carried it about with me till it was all frayed at every fold, and Ifinally stowed it away in my desk. 

Flora wrote to us all, with a postscript in addition to Dugald. And wewere to make haste and get rich enough to send for pa and ma and her. 

I did not see Townley's letter to aunt, but I know that much of it relatedto the 'Coila crime, ' as we all call it now. The scoundrel M'Rae haddisappeared, and Mr. Townley had failed to trace him. But he could wait. He would not get tired. It was as certain as Fate that as soon as thepoacher spent his money--and fellows like him could not keep moneylong--he would appear again at Coila, to extort more by begging orthreatening. Townley had a watch set for him, and as soon as he shouldappear there would be an interview. 

'It would, ' the letter went on, 'aid my case very much indeed could I butfind the men who assisted him to restore the vault in the old ruin. Butthey, too, are spirited away, apparently, and all I can do fails to findthem. But I live in hope. The good time is bound to come, and may Heavenin justice send it soon!'

Moncrieff had no letters, but I am bound to say that he was as muchdelighted to see us happy as if we were indeed his own brothers, and ouraunt his aunt, if such a thing could have been possible. 

But meanwhile the building of our Coila Villa moved on apace, and onlythose situated as we were could understand the eager interest we took inits gradual rise. At the laying of the foundation-stone we gave all theservants and workmen, and settlers, new and old, an entertainment. We hadnot an ostrich to roast whole this time, but the supper placed before ourguests under Moncrieff's biggest tent was one his cook might well havebeen proud of. After supper music commenced, only on this special andauspicious occasion the guitars did not have it all their own way, havingto give place every now and then to the inspiring strains of the Highlandbagpipes. That was a night which was long remembered in our littlecolony. 

While the villa was being built our furniture was being made. This, likethat in Moncrieff's mansion, was all, or mostly, Indian work, andmanufactured by our half-caste Gauchos. The wood chiefly used wasalgaroba, which, when polished, looked as bright as mahogany, and quite asbeautiful. This Occidental furniture, as we called it, was really verylight and elegant, the seats of the couches, fauteuils and sofas, andchairs being worked with thongs, or pieces of hardened skin, in quite amarvellous manner. 

We had fences to make all round our fields, and hedges to plant, and eventrees. Then there was the whole irrigation system to see to, and the landto sow with grain and lucerne, after the soil had been duly ploughed andattended to. All this kept us young fellows very busy indeed, for weworked with the men almost constantly, not only as simple superintendents, but as labourers. 

Yes, the duties about an _estancia_, even after it is fairly established, are very varied; but, nevertheless, I know of no part of the world wherethe soil responds more quickly or more kindly to the work of the tillerthan it does in the Silver West. And this is all the more wonderful whenwe consider that a great part of the land hereabouts is by nature barrenin the extreme. 

 * * * * *

I do not think I am wrong in saying that sheep, if not first introducedinto the _estancias_ of the Silver West by the Scotch, have at all eventsbeen elevated to the rank of a special feature of produce in the countryby them. Moncrieff had done much for the improvement of the breed, notonly as regards actual size of body, but in regard to the texture of thewool; and it was his proudest boast to be able to say that the land of hisadoption could already compare favourably with Australia itself, and thatin the immediate future it was bound to beat that island. 

It is no wonder, therefore, that we all looked forward to our first greatshearing as a very busy time indeed. Our great wool harvest was, indeed, one of the principal events of the year. Moncrieff said he always feltyoung again at the sheep-shearing times. 

Now there are various styles of wool harvesting. Moncrieff's was simpleenough. Preparations were made for it, both out-doors and in, at least afortnight beforehand. Indoors, hams, &c. , were got ready for cooking, andthe big tent was erected once more near and behind the mansion, for extrahands to the number of twenty at least were to be imported; severalneighbour settlers--they lived ten miles off, and still wereneighbours--were coming over to lend a hand, and all had to eat, and mosthad to sleep, under canvas. 

If sheep-shearing prospects made Moncrieff young again, so they did hismother. She was here, there, and everywhere; now in parlour ordining-room, in kitchen and scullery, in out-houses and tent, givingorders, leading, directing, ay, and sometimes even driving, the servants, for few of the Gauchos, whether male or female, could work with speedenough to please old Jenny. 

Well, the sheds had to be cleared out, and a system of corralling adoptedwhich was only called for during times like these. Then there were theweighing machines to be seen to; the tally tables and all the packing andpressing machinery--which on this large _estancia_ was carried almost toperfection--had all to be got into the very best working order imaginable. For, in the matter of sheep-shearing, Moncrieff was fastidious to adegree. 

The sheep were washed the day before. This was hard work, for no animal Iknow of is more obstinate than a sheep when it makes up its mind to beso. 

So the work commenced, and day after day it went merrily on. Moncrieff didnot consider this a very large shearing, and yet in six days' time no lessthan 11, 000 sheep were turned away fleeceless. 

And what a scene it was, to be sure!

I remember well, when quite a little lad, thinking old Parson McGruer'sshearing a wonderful sight. The old man, who was very fat and podgy, andseldom got down to breakfast before eleven in the morning, consideredhimself a sheep farmer on rather a large scale. Did he not own a flock ofnearly six hundred--one shepherd's work--that fed quietly on theheath-clad braes of Coila? One shepherd and two collies; and the colliesdid nearly all the duty in summer and a great part of it in winter. Theshepherd had his bit of shieling in a clump of birch-trees at theglen-foot, and at times, crook in hand, his Highland plaid dangling fromhis shoulder, he might be seen slowly winding along the braes, orstanding, statue-like, on the hill-top, his romantic figure well definedagainst the horizon, and very much in keeping with the scene. I never yetsaw the minister's shepherd running. His life was almost an idyllic one insummer, when the birks waved green and eke, or in autumn, when the hillswere all ablaze with the crimson glory of the heather. To be sure, his paywas not a great deal, and his fare for the most part consisted of oatmealand milk, with now and then a slice of the best part of a 'braxied' sheep. Here, in our home in the Silver West, how different! Every _puestero_ hada house or hut as good as the minister's shepherd; and as for living, why, the worthy Mr. McGruer himself never had half so well-found a table. Ourdogs in the Silver West lived far more luxuriously than any farm servantor shepherd, or even gamekeeper, 'in a' braid Scotland. '

But our shepherds had to run and to ride both. Wandering over miles uponmiles of pasturage, sheep learn to be dainty, and do not stay very long inany one place; so it is considered almost impossible to herd them on foot. It is not necessary to do so; at all events, where one can buy a horse forforty shillings, and where his food costs _nil_, or next to _nil_, oneusually prefers riding to walking. 

But it was a busy time in May even at the Scotch minister's place whensheep-shearing came round. The minister got up early then, if he did notdo so all the year round again. The hurdles were all taken to theriver-side, or banks of the stream that, leaving Loch Coila, wentmeandering through the glen. Here the sheep were washed and penned, andanon turned into the enclosures where the shearers were. Lads and lassesall took part in the work in one capacity or another. The sun would bebrightly shining, the 'jouking burnie' sparkling clear in its rays; theglens and hills all green and bonnie; the laughing and joking and liltingand singing, and the constant bleating of sheep and lambs, made altogethera curious medley; but every now and then Donald the piper would tune hispipes and make them 'skirl, ' drowning all other sounds in martial melody. 

But here on Moncrieff's _estancia_ everything was on a grander scale. There was the same bleating of sheep, the same laughing, joking, lilting, singing, and piping; the same hurry-scurry of dogs and men; the sameprevailing busy-ness and activity; but everything was multiplied bytwenty. 

McGruer at home in Coila had his fleeces thrust into a huge sack, whichwas held up by two stalwart Highlanders. Into this not only were thefleeces put, but also a boy, to jump on them and pack them down. At the_estancia_ we had the very newest forms of machinery to do everything. 

Day by day, as our shearing went on, Moncrieff grew gayer and gayer, andon the final morning he was as full of life and fun as a Harrow schoolboyout on the range. The wool harvest had turned out well. 

It had not been so every year with Moncrieff and his partner. They had hadmany struggles to come through--sickness had at one time more thandecimated the flocks. The Indians, though they do not as a rule drive awaysheep, had played sad havoc among them, and scattered them far and wideover the adjoining pampas, and the pampero[8] had several times destroyedits thousands, before the trees had grown up to afford protection andshelter. 

I have said before that Moncrieff was fond of doing things in his ownfashion. He was willing enough to adopt all the customs of his adoptedcountry so long as he thought they were right, but many of the habits ofhis native land he considered would engraft well with those of Mendoza. Moncrieff delighted in dancing--that is, in giving a good hearty rout, and he simply did so whenever there was the slightest excuse. The cerealharvest ended thus, the grape harvest also, and making of the wine andpreserves, and so of course did the shearing. 

The dinner at the mansion itself was a great success; the supper in themarquee, with the romp to follow, was even a greater. Moncrieff himselfopened the fun with Aunt Cecilia as a partner, Donald and a charmingSpanish girl completing the quartette necessary for a real Highland reel. The piper played, of course (guitars were not good enough for this sort ofthing), and I think we must have kept that first 'hoolichin' up for nearlytwenty minutes. Then Moncrieff and aunt were fain to retire'for-fochten. '[9]

Well Moncrieff might have been 'for-fochten, ' but neither Donald nor hisSpanish lassie were half tired. Nor was the piper. 

'Come on, Dugald, ' cried Donald, 'get a partner, lad. Hooch!'

'Hooch!' shouted Dugald in response, and lo and behold! he gaily ledforth--whom? Why, whom but old Jenny herself? What roars of laughter therewas as, keeping time to a heart-stirring strathspey, the litle ladycracked her thumbs and danced, reeling, setting, and deeking! roars oflaughter, and genuine hearty applause as well. 

Moncrieff was delighted with his mother's performance. It was glorious, hesaid, and so true to time; surely everybody would believe him now thatmither was a downright ma_r-r-r-_vel. And everybody did. 

During the shearing Donald and I had done duty as clerks; and very busy wehad been kept. As for Dugald, it would have been a pity to have parted himand his dear gun, so the work assigned to him was that of lion'sprovider--we, the shearing folk, being the lion. 

For a youth of hardly sixteen Dugald was a splendid shot, and during theshearing he really kept up his credit well. Moncrieff objected to havebirds killed when breeding; but in this country, as indeed in any otherwhere game is numerous, there are hosts of birds that do not, for variousreasons, breed or mate every season. These generally are to be foundeither singly and solitary, as if they had some great grief on their mindsthat they desired to nurse in solitude, or in small flocks of gay youngbachelors. Dugald knew such birds well, and it was from the ranks of thesehe always filled the larder. 

To the supply thus brought daily by Dugald were added fowls, ducks, andturkeys from the _estancia's_ poultry-yard, to say nothing of joints ofbeef, mutton, and pork. Nor was it birds alone that Dugald's seeminglyinexhaustible creels and bags were laden with, but eggs of the swan[10]and the wild-duck and goose, with--to serve as tit-bits for those whocared for such desert delicacies--cavies, biscachas, and now and then anarmadillo. If these were not properly appreciated by the new settlers, theeyes of the old, and especially the Gauchos, sparkled with anticipation ofgustatory delight on beholding them. 

For some days after the shearing was over comparative peace reigned aroundand over the great _estancia_. But nevertheless preparations were beingmade to send off a string of waggons to Villa Mercedes. The market atMendoza was hardly large enough to suit Moncrieff, nor were the prices sogood as could be obtained in the east. Indeed, Moncrieff had purchasingagents from Villa Mercedes to meet his waggons on receipt of a telegram. 

So the waggons were loaded up--wool, wine, and preserves, as well asraisins. 

To describe the vineyards at our _estancia_ would take up far too muchspace. I must leave them to the reader's imagination; but I hardly think Iam wrong in stating that there are no grapes in the world more deliciousor more viniferous than those that grow in the province of Mendoza. Theusual difficulty is not in the making of wine, but in the supply ofbarrels and bottles. Moncrieff found a way out of this; and in some hotelsin Buenos Ayres, and even Monte Video, the Château Moncrieff had alreadygained some celebrity. 

The manufacture of many different kinds of preserves was quite an industryat the _estancia_, and one that paid fairly well. There were orangeries aswell as vineries; and although the making of marmalade had not before beenattempted, Moncrieff meant now to go in for it on quite a large scale. This branch was to be superintended by old Jenny herself, and great washer delight to find out that she was of some use on the estate, for'really 'oman, ' she told aunt, 'a body gets tired of the stockin'--shank, shank, shank a' day is hard upon the hands, though a body maun dosomething. '

Well, the waggons were laden and off at last. With them went Moncrieff'sWelsh partner as commander, to see to the sale, and prevent the Gauchosand drivers generally from tapping the casks by the way. The force of men, who were all well armed, was quite sufficient to give an excellent accountof any number of prowling Indians who were likely to put in anappearance. 

And now summer, in all its glory, was with us. And such glory! Such gloryof vegetable life, such profusion of foliage, such wealth of colouring, such splendour of flowers! Such glory of animal life, beast and bird andinsect! The flowers themselves were not more gay and gorgeous than some ofthese latter. 

Nor were we very greatly plagued with the hopping and blood-suckinggenera. Numerous enough they were at times, it must be confessed, both byday and night; but somehow we got used to them. The summer was wearing toa close, the first wing of our Coila Villa was finished and dry, thefurniture was put in, and as soon as the smell of paint left we tookpossession. 

This was made the occasion for another of Moncrieff's festive gatherings. Neighbours came from all directions except the south, for we knew of nonein this direction besides the wild Pampean Indians, and they were notincluded in the invitation. Probably we should make them dance some otherday. 

About a fortnight after our opening gathering, or 'house-warming, ' asMoncrieff called it, we had a spell of terribly hot weather. The heat wasof a sultry, close description, difficult to describe: the cattle, sheep, and horses seemed to suffer very much, and even the poor dogs. These last, by the way, we found it a good plan to clip. Long coats did not suit thesummer season. 

One evening it seemed hotter and sultrier than ever. We were all seatedout in the verandah, men-folk smoking, and aunt and Aileen fanningthemselves and fighting the insects, when suddenly a low and ominousrumbling was heard which made us all start except Moncrieff. 

Is it thunder? No; there is not at present a cloud in the sky, although astrange dark haze is gathering over the peaks on the western horizon. 

'Look!' said Moncrieff to me. As he spoke he pointed groundwards. Beetlesand ants and crawling insects of every description were heading for theverandah, seeking shelter from the coming storm. 

The strange rumbling grew louder!

It was not coming from the sky, but from the earth!

-----

 [8] Pampero, a storm wind that blows from the south. 

 [9] For-fochten = worn out. The term usually applies to barn-yard roosters, who have been settling a quarrel, and pause to pant, with their heads towards the ground. 

 [10] Swans usually commence laying some time before either ducks or geese; but much depends upon the season. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

THE EARTHQUAKE. 

With a rapidity that was truly alarming the black haze in the west creptupwards over the sky, the sun was engulfed in a few minutes, and beforehalf an hour, accompanied by a roaring wind and a whirl of dust anddecayed leaves, the storm was with us and on us, the whole _estancia_being enveloped in clouds and darkness. 

The awful earth sounds still continued--increased, in fact--much to theterror of every one of us. We had retreated to the back sitting-room. Moncrieff had left us for a time, to see to the safety of the cattle andthe farm generally, for the Gauchos were almost paralyzed with fear, andit was found afterwards that the very shepherds had left their flocks andfled for safety--if safety it could be called--to their _puestos_. 

Yet Gauchos are not as a rule afraid of storms, but--and it is somewhatremarkable--an old Indian seer had for months before been predicting thaton this very day and night the city of Mendoza would be destroyed by anearthquake, and that not only the town but every village in the provincewould be laid low at the same time. 

It is difficult to give the reader any idea of the events of this dreadfulnight. I can only briefly relate my own feelings and experiences. As weall sat there, suddenly a great river of blood appeared to split the darkheavens in two, from zenith to horizon. It hung in the sky for longseconds, and was followed by a peal of thunder of terrific violence, accompanied by sounds as if the whole building and every building on theestate were being rent and riven in pieces. At the self-same moment astrange, dizzy, sleepy feeling rushed through my brain. I could only seethose around me as if enshrouded in a blue-white mist. I tried to risefrom my chair, but fell back, not as I thought into a chair but into aboat. Floor and roof and walls appeared to meet and clasp. My head swam. Iwas not only dizzy but deaf apparently, not too deaf, however, to hear thewild, unearthly, frightened screams of twenty at least of our Gauchoservants, who were huddled together in the centre of the garden. It wasall over in a few seconds: even the thunder was hushed and the wind nolonger bent the poplars or roared through the cloud-like elm-trees. Asilence that could be felt succeeded, broken only by the low moan ofterror that the Gauchos kept up; a silence that soon checked even thatsound itself; a silence that crept round the heart, and held us allspellbound; a silence that was ended at last by terrible thunderings andlightnings and earth-tremblings, with all the same dizzy, sleepy, sickening sensations that had accompanied the first shock. I felt as ifchaos had come again, and for a time felt also as if death itself wouldhave been a relief. 

But this shock passed next, and once more there was a solemn silence, adrear stillness. And now fear took possession of every one of us, and adesire to flee away somewhere--anywhere. This had almost amounted topanic, when Moncrieff himself appeared in the verandah. 

'I've got our fellows to put up the marquee, ' he said, almost in awhisper. 'Come--we'll be safer there. Mither, I'll carry you. You're notafraid, are you?'

'Is the worruld comin' tae an end?' asked old Jenny, looking dazed as herson picked her up. 'Is the worruld comin' tae an end, _and the marmaladeno made yet_?'

In about an hour after this the storm was at its worst. Flash followedflash, peal followed peal: the world seemed in flames, the hills appearedto be falling on us. The rain and hailstones came down in vast sheets, andwith a noise so great that even the thunder itself was heard but as asubdued roar. 

We had no light here--we needed none. The lightning, or the reflection ofit, ran in under the canvas on the surface of the water, which must havebeen inches deep. The hail melted as soon as it fell, and finally gaveplace to rain alone; then the water that flowed through the tent feltwarm, if not hot, to the touch. This was no doubt occasioned by the forcewith which it fell to the ground. The falling rain now looked like cordsof gold and silver, so brightly was it illuminated by the lightning. 

While the storm was still at its height suddenly there was a shout fromone of the Gauchos. 

'Run, run! the tent is falling!' was the cry. 

It was only too true. A glance upwards told us this. We got into the openair just in time, before, weighted down by tons of water, the greatmarquee came groundwards with a crash. 

But though the rain still came down in torrents and the thunder roared andrattled over and around us, no further shock of earthquake was felt. Fearfled then, and we made a rush for the house once more. Moncrieff reachedthe casement window first, with a Gaucho carrying a huge lantern. This manentered, but staggered out again immediately. 

'The ants! the ants!' he shouted in terror. 

Moncrieff had one glance into the room, as if to satisfy himself. I tookthe lantern from the trembling hands of the Gaucho and held it up, and thesight that met my astonished gaze was one I shall never forget. The wholeroom was in possession of myriads of black ants of enormous size; theycovered everything--walls, furniture, and floor--with one dense and awfulpall. 

The room looked strange and mysterious in its living, moving covering. Here was indeed the blackness of darkness. Yes, and it was a darkness toothat could be felt. Of this I had a speedy proof of a most disagreeablenature. I was glad to hand the lantern back and seek for safety in therain again. 

Luckily the sitting-room door was shut, and this was the only room nottaken possession of. 

After lights had been lit in the drawing-room the storm did not appearquite so terrible; but no one thought of retiring that night. The vaguefear that something more dreadful still might occur kept hanging in ourminds, and was only dispelled when daylight began to stream in at thewindows. 

By breakfast-time there was no sign in the blue sky that so fearful astorm had recently raged there. Nor had any very great violence been doneabout the farmyards by the earthquake. 

Many of the cattle that had sought shelter beneath the trees had beenkilled, however; and in one spot we found the mangled remains of over onehundred sheep. Here also a huge chestnut-tree had been struck andcompletely destroyed, pieces of the trunk weighing hundreds of poundsbeing scattered in every direction over the field. 

Earthquakes are of common occurrence in the province of Mendoza, butseldom are they accompanied by such thunder, lightning, and rain as we hadon this occasion. It was this demonstration, coupled with the warningwords of the Indian seer, which had caused the panic among our worthyGaucho servants. But the seer had been a false prophet for once, and asthe Gauchos seized him on this same day and half drowned him in the lake, there was but little likelihood that he would prophesy the destruction ofMendoza again. 

Mendoza had been almost totally destroyed already by an awful earthquakethat occurred in 1861. Out of a population of nearly sixteen thousandsouls no less than thirteen thousand, we are told, were killed--swallowedup by the yawning earth. Fire broke out afterwards, and, as if toincrease the wretchedness and sad condition of the survivors, robbers fromall directions--even from beyond the Andes--flocked to the place to lootand pillage it. But Mendoza is now built almost on the ashes of thedestroyed city, and its population must be equal to, even if it does notexceed, its former aggregate. 

 * * * * *

With the exception of a few losses, trifling enough to one in Moncrieff'sposition, the whole year was a singularly successful one. Nor had mybrothers nor I and the other settlers any occasion to complain, and ourprospects began to be very bright indeed. 

Nor did the future belie the present, for ere another year had rolled overour heads we found ourselves in a fair way to fortune. We felt by thistime that we were indeed old residents. We were thoroughly acclimatized:healthy, hardy, and brown. In age we were, some would say, mere lads; inexperience we were already men. 

Our letters from home continued to be of the most cheering description, with the exception of Townley's to aunt. He had made little if anyprogress in his quest. Not that he despaired. Duncan M'Rae was stillabsent, but sooner or later--so Townley believed--poverty would bring himto bay, and _then_--

Nothing of this did my aunt tell me at the time. I remained in blissfulignorance of anything and everything that our old tutor had done or wasdoing. 

True, the events of that unfortunate evening at the old ruin sometimesarose in my mind to haunt me. My greatest sorrow was my being bound downby oath to keep what seemed to me the secret of a villain--a secret thathad deprived our family of the estates of Coila, had deprived myparents--yes, that was the hard and painful part. For, strange as it mayappear, I cared nothing for myself. So enamoured had I become of our newhome in the Silver West, that I felt but little longing to return to thecomparative bleakness and desolation of even Scottish Highland scenery. Imust not be considered unpatriotic on this account, or if there was adecay of patriotism in my heart, the fascinating climate of Mendoza was toblame for it. I could not help feeling at times that I had eaten thelotus-leaf. Had we not everything that the heart of young men coulddesire? On my own account, therefore, I felt no desire to turn the goodsoldier M'Rae away from Coila, and as for Irene--as for bringing a tear tothe eyes of that beautiful and engaging girl, I would rather, I thought, that the dark waters of the laguna should close over my head for ever. 

Besides, dear father was happy. His letters told me that. He had even cometo like his city life, and he never wrote a word about Coila. 

Still, the oath--the oath that bound me! It was a dark spot in myexistence. 

_Did_ it bind me? I remember thinking that question over one day. Could anoath forced upon any one be binding in the sight of Heaven? I ran off toconsult my brother Moncrieff. I found him riding his great bay mare, anespecial favourite, along the banks of the highest _estancia_ canal--thecanal that fed the whole system of irrigation. Here I joined him, myselfon my pet brown mule. 

'Planning more improvements, Moncrieff?' I asked. 

He did not speak for a minute or two. 

'I'm not planning improvements, ' he said at last, 'but I was just thinkingit would be well, in our orra[11] moments, if we were to strengthen thisembankment. There is a terrible power o' water here. Now supposing thatduring some awful storm, with maybe a bit shock of earthquake, it were toburst here or hereabouts, don't you see that the flood would pour rightdown upon the mansion-house, and clean it almost from its foundations?'

'I trust, ' I said, 'so great a catastrophe will not occur in our day. '

'It would be a fearful accident, and a judgment maybe on my want offorethought. '

'I want to ask you a question, ' I said, 'on another subject, Moncrieff. '

'You're lookin' scared, laddie. What's the matter?'

I told him as much as I could. 

'It's a queer question, laddie--a queer question. Heaven give me help toanswer you! I think, as the oath was to keep a secret, you had best keepthe oath, and trust to Heaven to set things right in the end, if it be forthe best. '

'Thanks, Moncrieff, ' I said; 'thanks. I will take your advice. '

That very day Moncrieff set a party of men to strengthen the embankment;and it was probably well he did so, for soon after the work was finishedanother of those fearful storms, accompanied as usual by shocks ofearthquake, swept over our valley, and the canal was filled tooverflowing, but gave no signs of bursting. Moncrieff had assuredly takentime by the forelock. 

One day a letter arrived, addressed to me, which bore the Londonpost-mark. 

It was from Archie, and a most spirited epistle it was. He wanted us torejoice with him, and, better still, to expect him out by the very firstpacket. His parents had yielded to his request. It had been the voyage toNewcastle that had turned the scale. There was nothing like pluck, hesaid; 'But, ' he added, 'between you and me, Murdoch, I would not takeanother voyage in a Newcastle collier, not to win all the honour and gloryof Livingstone, Stanley, Gordon-Cumming, and Colonel Frederick Burnaby putin a bushel basket. '

I went tearing away over the _estancia_ on my mule, to find my brothersand tell them the joyful tidings. And we rejoiced together. Then I wentoff to look for Moncrieff, and he rejoiced, to keep me company. 

'And mind you, ' he said, 'the very day after he arrives we'll have adinner and a kick-up. '

'Of course we will, ' I said. 'We'll have the dinner and fun at CoilaVilla, which, remember, can now boast of two wings besides the tower. '

'Very well, ' he assented, 'and after that we can give another dinner androut at my diggings. Just a sort of return match, you see?'

'But I don't see, ' I said; 'I don't see the use of two parties. '

'Oh, but I do, Murdoch. We must make more of a man than we do of anowt[12] beast. Now you mind that bull I had sent out from England--TowsyJock that lives in the Easter field?--well, I gave a dinner when he came. £250 I paid for him too. '

'Yes, and I remember also you gave a dinner and fun when the prize ramcame out. Oh, catch you not finding an excuse for a dinner! However, so beit: one dinner and fun for a bull, two for Archie. '

'That's agreed then, ' said Moncrieff. 

Now, my brothers and I and a party of Gauchos, with the warlike Bombazoand a Scot or two, had arranged a grand hunt into the guanaco country; butas dear old Archie was coming out so soon we agreed to postpone it, inorder that he might join in the fun. Meanwhile we commenced to make allpreparations. 

They say that the principal joy in life lies in the anticipation ofpleasure to come. I think there is a considerable amount of truth in this, and I am sure that not even bluff old King Hal setting out to hunt in theNew Forest could have promised himself a greater treat than we did as wegot ready for our tour in the land of the guanaco, and country of thecondor. 

We determined to be quite prepared to start by the time Archie was due. Not that we meant to hurry our dear cockney cousin right away to the wildsas soon as he arrived. No; we would give him a whole week to 'shakedown, ' as Moncrieff called it, and study life on the _estancia_. 

And, indeed, life on the _estancia_, now that we had become thoroughlyused to it, was exceedingly pleasant altogether. 

I cannot say that either my brothers or I were ever much given to lazingin bed of a morning in Scotland itself. To have done so we should havelooked upon as bad form; but to encourage ourselves in matutinal sloth ina climate like this would have seemed a positive crime. 

Even by seven in the morning we used to hear the great gong roaringhoarsely on Moncrieff's lawn, and this used to be the signal for us tostart and draw aside our mosquito curtains. Our bedrooms adjoined, and allthe time we were splashing in our tubs and dressing we kept up anincessant fire of banter and fun. The fact is, we used to feel in suchglorious form after a night's rest. Our bedroom windows were very largecasements, and were kept wide open all the year round, so that virtuallywe slept in the open air. We nearly always went to bed in the dark, or ifwe did have lights we had to shut the windows till we had put them out, else moths as big as one's hand, and all kinds and conditions of insectlife, would have entered and speedily extinguished our candles. Even hadthe windows been protected by glass, this insect life would have beentroublesome. In the drawing and dining rooms we had specially preparedblinds of wire to exclude these creatures, while admitting air enough. 

The mosquito curtains round our beds effectually kept everythingdisagreeable at bay, and insured us wholesome rest. 

But often we were out of bed and galloping over the country long beforethe gong sounded. This ride used to give us such appetites for breakfast, that sometimes we had to apologize to aunt and Aileen for our apparentgreediness. We were out of doors nearly all day, and just as often as nothad a snack of luncheon on the hills at some settler's house or at anoutlying _puesto_. 

Aunt was now our housekeeper, but nevertheless so accustomed had we andMoncrieff and Aileen become to each other's society that hardly a daypassed without our dining together either at his house or ours. 

The day, what with one thing and another, used to pass quickly enough, andthe evening was most enjoyable, despite even the worry of flying andcreeping insects. After dinner my brothers and I, with at times Moncrieffand Bombazo, used to lounge round to see what the servants were doing. 

They had a concert, and as often as not some fun, every night with theexception of Sabbath, when Moncrieff insisted that they should retireearly. 

At many _estancias_ wine is far too much in use--even to the extent ofinebriety. Our places, however, owing to Moncrieff's strictness, weremodels of temperance, combined with innocent pleasures. The master, as hewas called, encouraged all kinds of games, though he objected to gambling, and drinking he would not permit at any price. 

One morning our post-runner came to Coila Villa in greater haste thanusual, and from his beaming eyes and merry face I conjectured he had aletter for me. 

I took it from him in the verandah, and sent him off round to the kitchento refresh himself. No sooner had I glanced at its opening sentences thanI rushed shouting into the breakfast-room. 

'Hurrah!' I cried, waving the letter aloft. 'Archie's coming, and he'll behere to-day. Hurrah! for the hunt, lads, and hurrah! for the hills!'

-----

 [11] Orra = leisure, idle. An orra-man is one who does all kinds of odd jobs about a farm. 

 [12] Nowt = cattle. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

OUR HUNTING EXPEDITION. 

If not quite so exuberant as the welcome that awaited us on our arrival inthe valley, Archie's was a right hearty one, and assuredly left our cousinnothing to complain of. 

He had come by diligence from Villa Mercedes, accomplishing the journey, therefore, in a few days, which had occupied us in our caravan about asmany weeks. 

We were delighted to see him looking so well. Why, he had even alreadycommenced to get brown, and was altogether hardy and hearty and manlike. 

We were old _estancieros_, however, and it gave us unalloyed delight toshow him round our place and put him up to all the outs and ins of asettler's life. 

Dugald even took him away to the hills with him, and the two of them didnot get home until dinner was on the table. 

Archie, however, although not without plenty of pluck and willingness todevelop into an _estanciero_ pure and simple, had not the stamina mybrothers and I possessed, but this only made us all the more kind to him. In time, we told him, he would be quite as strong and wiry as any of us. 

'There is one thing I don't think I shall ever be able to get over, ' saidArchie one day. It may be observed that he did not now talk with theLondon drawl; he had left both his cockney tongue and his tall hat athome. 

'What is it you do not think you will ever get over, Arch?' I asked. 

'Why, the abominable creepies, ' he answered, looking almost miserable. 

'Why, ' he continued, 'it isn't so much that I mind being bitten bymosquitoes--of which it seems you have brutes that fly by day, and gangsthat go on regular duty at night--but it is the other abominations thatmake my blood run positively cold. Now your cockroaches are all very welldown in the coal-cellar, and centipedes are interesting creatures in glasscases with pins stuck through them; but to find cockroaches in your bootsand centipedes in your bed is rather too much of a good thing. '

'Well, ' said Dugald, laughing, 'you'll get used to even that. I don'treally mind now what bites me or what crawls over me. Besides, you knowall those creepie-creepies, as you call them, afford one so excellent anopportunity of studying natural history from the life. '

'Oh, bother such life, Dugald! My dear cousin, I would rather remain inblissful ignorance of natural history all my life than have even an earwigreposing under my pillow. Besides, I notice that even your Yahooservants--'

'I beg your pardon, cousin; Gaucho, not Yahoo. '

'Well, well, Gaucho servants shudder, and even run from our common bedroomcreepies. '

'Oh! they are nothing at all to go by, Archie. They think because a thingis not very pretty it is bound to be venomous. '

'But does not the bite of a centipede mean death?'

'Oh dear no. It isn't half as bad as London vermin. '

'Then there are scorpions. Do they kill you? Is not their bite highlydangerous?'

'Not so bad as a bee's sting. '

'Then there are so many flying beetles. '

'Beauties, Archie, beauties. Why, Solomon in all his glory was not arrayedlike some of these. '

'Perhaps not. But then, Solomon or not Solomon, how am I to know whichsting and which don't?'

'_Experientia docet_, Archie. '

Archie shuddered. 

'Again, there are spiders. Oh, they do frighten me. They're as big aslobsters. Ugh!'

'Well, they won't hurt. They help to catch the other things!'

'Yes, and that's just the worst of it. First a lot of creepies come in tosuck your blood and inject poison into your veins, to say nothing of halfscaring a fellow to death; and then a whole lot of flying creepies, muchworse than the former, come in to hunt them up; and bats come next, to saynothing of lizards; and what with the buzzing and singing and hopping andflapping and beating and thumping, poor _me_ has to lie awake half thenight, falling asleep towards morning to dream I'm in purgatory. '

'Poor _you_ indeed!' said Dugald. 

'You have told me, too, I must sleep in the dark, but I want to know whatis the good of that when about one half of those flying creepies carry alamp each, and some of them two. Only the night before last I awoke in afright. I had been dreaming about the great sea-serpent, and the firstthing I saw was a huge creature about as long as a yard stick wrigglingalong my mosquito curtains. '

'Ah! How could you see it in the dark?'

'Why, the beggar carried two lamps ahead of him, and he had a smaller chapwith a light. Ugh!'

'These were some good specimens of the _Lampyridæ_, no doubt. '

'Well, perhaps; but having such a nice long name doesn't make them a bitless hideous to me. Then in the morning when I looked into the glass Ididn't know myself from Adam. I had a black eye that some bug or otherhad given me--I dare say he also had a nice long name. I had a lump on mybrow as large as a Spanish onion, and my nose was swollen and as big as abladder of lard. From top to toe I was covered with hard knots, as if I'dbeen to Donnybrook Fair, and what with aching and itching it would havebeen a comfort to me to have jumped out of my skin. '

'Was that all?' I said, laughing. 

'Not quite. I went to take up a book to fling at a monster spider in thecorner, and put my hand on a scorpion. I cracked him and crushed thespider, and went to have my bath, only to find I had to fish out abouttwenty long-named indescribables that had committed suicide during thenight. Other creepies had been drowned in the ewer. I found earwigs in mytowels, grasshoppers in my clothes, and wicked-looking little beetles evenin my hairbrushes. This may be a land flowing with milk and honey and allthe rest of it, Murdoch, but it is also a land crawling withcreepie-creepies. '

'Well, anyhow, ' said Dugald, 'here comes your mule. Mount and have a ride, and we'll forget everything but the pleasures of the chase. Come, I thinkI know where there is a jaguar--an immense great brute. I saw him killinggeese not three days ago. '

'Oh, that will be grand!' cried Archie, now all excitement. 

And five minutes afterwards Dugald and he were off to the hills. 

But in two days more we would be off to the hills in earnest. 

For this tour we would not of our own free-will have made half thepreparations Moncrieff insisted on, and perhaps would hardly have providedourselves with tents. However, we gave in to his arrangements in everyway, and certainly we had no cause to repent it. 

The guide--he was to be called our _cacique_ for the time being--thatMoncrieff appointed had been a Gaucho malo, a pampas Cain. No one everknew half the crimes the fellow had committed, and I suppose he himselfhad forgotten. But he was a reformed man and really a Christian, and it isdifficult to find such an anomaly among Gauchos. He knew the pampas well, and the Andes too, and was far more at home in the wilds than at the_estancia_. A man like this, Moncrieff told us, was worth ten times hisweight in gold. 

And so it turned out. 

 * * * * *

The summer had well-nigh gone when our caravan at length left Moncrieff'sbeautiful valley. The words 'caravan at length' in the last sentence maybe understood in two ways, either as regards space or time. Ours was nocaravan on wheels. Not a single wheeled waggon accompanied us, for weshould cross deserts, and pass through glens where there would be no road, perhaps hardly even a bridle-path. So the word caravan is to be understoodin the Arab sense of the word. And it certainly was a lengthy one. For wehad a pack mule for every two men, including our five Gauchos. 

Putting it in another way, there were five of us Europeans--Donald, Dugald, Archie Bateman, Sandie Donaldson, and myself; each European had ahorse and a Gaucho servant, and each Gaucho had a mule. 

Bombazo meant to have come; he said so to the very last, at all events, but an unfortunate attack of toothache confined him to bed. Archie, whohad no very exalted idea of the little Spanish captain's courage, was rudeenough to tell us in his hearing that he was 'foxing. ' I do not pretend tounderstand what Archie meant, but I feel certain it was nothing verycomplimentary to Bombazo's bravery. 

'Dear laddies, ' old Jenny had said, 'if you think you want onybody to darnyour hose on the road, I'll gang wi' ye mysel'. As for that feckless loonBombazo, the peer[13] body is best in bed. '

Our arms consisted of rifles, shot-guns, the bolas, and lasso. Each mancarried a revolver as well, and we had also abundance of fishing tackle. Our tents were only three in all, but they were strong and waterproof, agreat consideration when traversing a country like this. 

We were certainly prepared to rough it, but had the good sense to takewith us every contrivance which might add to our comfort, so long as itwas fairly portable. 

Archie had one particular valise of his own that he declared containedonly a few nicknacks which no one ought to travel without. He would notgratify us by even a peep inside, however, so for a time we had to becontent with guessing what the nicknacks were. Archie got pretty wellchaffed about his Gladstone bag, as he called it. 

'You surely haven't got the tall hat in it, ' said Dugald. 

'Of course you haven't forgotten your nightcap, ' said Donald. 

'Nor your slippers, Archie?' I added. 

'And a dressing-gown would be indispensable in the desert, ' said SandieDonaldson. 

Archie only smiled to himself, but kept his secret. 

What a lovely morning it was when we set out! So blue was the sky, sogreen the fields of waving lucerne, so dense the foliage and flowers andhedgerows and trees, it really seemed that summer would last for many andmany a month to come. 

We were all fresh and happy, and full of buoyant anticipation of pleasuresto come. Our very dogs went scampering on ahead, barking for very joy. Ofthese we had quite a pack--three pure Scotch collies, two hugebloodhound-mastiffs, and at least half a dozen animals belonging to ourGauchos, which really were nondescripts but probably stood by greyhounds. These dogs were on exceedingly good terms with themselves and with eachother--the collies jumping up to kiss the horses every minute by way ofencouragement, the mastiffs trotting steadily on ahead cheek-by-jowl, andthe hounds everywhere--everywhere at once, so it appeared. 

Being all so fresh, we determined to make a thorough long day's journey ofit. So, as soon as we had left the glen entirely and disappeared among thesand dunes, we let our horses have their heads, the _capataz_ Gauchoriding on ahead on a splendid mule as strong as a stallion and as lithe asa Scottish deerhound. 

Not long before our start for the hunting grounds men had arrived from theChilian markets to purchase cattle. The greatest dainty to my mind theyhad brought with them was a quantity of _Yerba maté_, as it is called. Itis the dried leaves of a species of Patagonian ilex, which is used in thiscountry as tea, and very delightful and soothing it is. This was to be ourdrink during all our tour. More refreshing than tea, less exciting thanwine, it not only seems to calm the mind but to invigorate the body. Drunkwarm, with or without sugar, all feeling of tiredness passes away, and oneis disposed to look at the bright side of life, and that alone. 

We camped the first night on high ground nearly forty miles from our own_estancia_. It was a long day's journey in so rough a country, but we hada difficulty earlier in the afternoon in finding water. Here, however, wasa stream as clear as crystal, that doubtless made its way from springs inthe _sierras_ that lay to the west of us at no very great distance. Behindthese jagged hills the sun was slowly setting when we erected our tents. The ground chosen was at some little distance from the stream, and on thebare gravel. The cacti that grew on two sides of us were of giganticheight, and ribboned or edged with the most beautiful flowers. Our horsesand mules were hobbled and led to the stream, then turned on to the grasswhich grew green and plentiful all along its banks. 

A fire was quickly built and our great stewpan put on. We had alreadykilled our dinner in the shape of a small deer or fawn which had crossedour path on the plains lower down. With biscuits, of which we had astore, some curry, roots, which the Gauchos had found, and a handful ortwo of rice, we soon had a dinner ready, the very flavour of which wouldhave been enough to make a dying man eat. 

The dogs sat around us and around the Gauchos as we dined, and, it must beallowed, behaved in a most mannerly way; only the collies and mastiffskept together. They must have felt their superiority to those mongrelgreyhounds, and desired to show it in as calm and dignified a manner aspossible. 

After dinner sentries were set, one being mounted to watch the horses andmules. We were in no great fear of their stampeding, but we had promisedMoncrieff to run as little risk of any kind as possible on this journey, and therefore commenced even on this our first night to be as good as ourword. 

The best Gauchos had been chosen for us, and every one of them could talkEnglish after a fashion, especially our bold but not handsome _capataz_, or _cacique_ Yambo. About an hour after dinner the latter began servingout the _maté_. This put us all in excellent humour and the best ofspirits. As we felt therefore as happy as one could wish to be, we werenot surprised when the _capataz_ proposed a little music. 

'It is the pampas fashion, señor, ' he said to me. 

'Will you play and sing?' I said. 

'Play and sing?' he replied, at once producing his guitar, which lay in abag not far off. '_Si_, señor, I will play and sing for you. If you bidme, I will dance; every day and night I shall cook for you; when deopportunity come I will fight for you. I am your servant, your slave, anddelighted to be so. '

'Thank you, my _capataz_; I have no doubt you are a very excellentfellow. '

'Oh, señor, do not flatter yourself too mooch, too very mooch. It is notfor the sake of you young señors I care, but for the sake of the dearmaster. '

'Sing, _capataz_, ' I said, 'and talk after. '

To our surprise, not one but three guitars were handed out, and the songsand melodies were very delightful to listen to. 

Then our Sandie Donaldson, after handing his cup to be replenished, sang, _Ye banks and braes_ with much feeling and in fine manly tenor. We alljoined in each second verse, while the guitars gave excellentaccompaniment. One song suggested another, and from singing toconversational story-telling the transition was easy. To be sure, neithermy brothers nor I nor Archie had much to tell, but some of the experiencesof the Gauchos, and especially those of our _capataz_, were thrilling inthe extreme, and we never doubted their truth. 

But now it was time for bed, and we returned to the tents and lit ourlamps. 

Our beds were the hard ground, with a rug and guanaco robe, our saddlesturned upside down making as good a pillow as any one could wish. 

We had now the satisfaction of knowing something concerning the contentsof that mysterious grip-sack of Archie's. So judge of our surprise whenthis wonderful London cousin of ours first produced a large jar of what hecalled mosquito cream, and proceeded to smear his face and hands with theodorous compound. 

'This cream, ' he said, 'I bought at Buenos Ayres, and it is warranted tokeep all pampas creepies away, or anything with two wings or four, sixlegs or sixty. Have a rub, Dugald?'

'Not I, ' cried Dugald. 'Why, man, the smell is enough to kill bees. '

Archie proceeded with his preparations. Before enshrouding himself in hisguanaco mantle he drew on a huge waterproof canvas sack and fastened ittightly round his chest. He next produced a hooped head-dress. I know noother name for it. 

'It is an invention of my own, ' said Archie, proudly, 'and is, as you see, composed of hoops of wire--'

'Like a lady's crinoline, ' said Dugald. 

'Well, yes, if you choose to call it so, and is covered with mosquitomuslin. This is how it goes on, and I'm sure it will form a perfectprotection. '

He then inserted his head into the wondrous muslin bladder, and theappearance he now presented was comical in the extreme. His body in asack, his head in a white muslin bag, nothing human-looking about himexcept his arms, that, encased in huge leather gloves, dangled from hisshoulders like an immense pair of flippers. 

We three brothers looked at him just for a moment, then simultaneouslyexploded into a perfect roar of laughter. Sandie Donaldson, who with the_capataz_ occupied the next tent, came rushing in, then all the Gauchosand even the dogs. The latter bolted barking when they saw the apparition, but the rest joined the laughing chorus. 

And the more we looked at Archie the more we laughed, till the very sanddunes near us must have been shaken to their foundations by themanifestation of our mirth. 

'Laugh away, boys, ' said our cousin. 'Laugh and grow fat. I don't care howI look, so long as my dress and my cream keep the creepies away. '

-----

 [13] Peer = poor. 

[Illustration: Comical in the Extreme]

CHAPTER XIX. 

IN THE WILDERNESS. 

Some days afterwards we found ourselves among the mountains in a regionwhose rugged grandeur and semi-desolation, whose rock-filled glens, tall, frowning precipices, with the stillness that reigned everywhere around, imparted to it a character approaching even to sublimity. 

The _capataz_ was still our guide, our foremost man in everything; butclose beside him rode our indefatigable hunter, Dugald. 

We had already seen pumas, and even the terrible jaguar of the plains; wehad killed more than one rhea--the American ostrich--and deer inabundance. Moreover, Dugald had secured about fifty skins of the mostlovely humming-birds, with many beetles, whose elytra, painted and adornedby Nature, looked like radiant jewels. All these little skins and beetleswere destined to be sent home to Flora. As yet, however, we had not comein contact with the guanaco, although some had been seen at a distance. 

But to-day we were in the very country of the guanaco, and pressingonwards and ever upwards, in the hopes of soon being able to draw triggeron some of these strange inhabitants of the wilderness. 

Only this morning Dugald and I had been bantering each other as to whoshould shoot the first. 

'I mean to send my first skin to Flora, ' Dugald had said. 

'And I my first skin to Irene, ' I said. 

On rounding the corner of a cliff we suddenly came in sight of a wholeherd of the creatures, but they were in full retreat up the glen, whileout against the sky stood in bold relief a tall buck. It was the trumpettones of his voice ringing out plaintively but musically on the stillmountain air that had warned the herd of our approach. 

Another long ride of nearly two hours. And now we must have been manythousands of feet above the sea level, or even the level of the distantplains. 

It is long past midday, so we determine to halt, for here, pure, bubblingfrom a dark green slippery rock, is a spring of water as clear as crystaland deliciously cool. What a treat for our horses and dogs! What a treateven for ourselves!

I notice that Dugald seems extra tired. He has done more riding to-daythan any of us, and made many a long _détour_ in search of that guanacowhich he has hitherto failed to find. 

A kind of brotherly rivalry takes possession of me, and I cannot helpwishing that the first guanaco would fall to my rifle. The Gauchos arebusy preparing the stew and boiling water for the _maté_, so shoulderingmy rifle, and carelessly singing to myself, I leave my companions andcommence sauntering higher up the glen. The hill gets very steep, and Ihave almost to climb on my hands and knees, starting sometimes in dread asa hideous snake goes wriggling past me or raises head and body from behinda stone, and hisses defiance and hate almost in my face. But I reach thesummit at last, and find myself on the very edge of a precipice. 

Oh, joy! On a little peak down beneath, and not a hundred yards away, stands one of the noblest guanacos I have ever seen. He has heardsomething, or scented something, for he stands there as still as a statue, with head and neck in the air sniffing the breeze. 

How my heart beats! How my hand trembles! I cannot understand my anxiety. Were I face to face with a lion or tiger I could hardly be more nervous. Athousand thoughts seem to cross my mind with a rush, but uppermost of allis the fear that, having fired, I shall miss. 

He whinnies his warning now: only a low and undecided one. He is evidentlypuzzled; but the herd down in the bottom of the cañon hear it, and everyhead is elevated. I have judged the distance; I have drawn my bead. If myheart would only keep still, and there were not such a mist before myeyes! Bang! I have fired, and quickly load again. Have I missed? Yes--no, no; hurrah! hurrah! yonder he lies, stark and still, on the very rock onwhich he stood--my first guanaco!

The startled herd move up the cañon. They must have seen their leaderdrop. 

I am still gazing after them, full of exultation, when a hand is laid onmy shoulder, and, lo! there stands Dugald laughing. 

'You sly old dog, ' he says, 'to steal a march on your poor little brotherthus!'

For a moment I am startled, mystified. 

'Dugald, ' I say, 'did I really kill that guanaco?'

'No one else did. '

'And you've only just come--only just this second? Well, I'm glad to hearit. It was after all a pure accident my shooting the beast. I _did_ holdthe rifle his way. I _did_ draw the trigger----'

'Well, and the bullet did the rest, boy. Funny, you always kill by themerest chance! Ah, Murdoch, you're a better shot than I am, for all youwon't allow it. '

Wandering still onwards and still upwards next day, through lonely glensand deep ravines, through cañons the sides of which were as perpendicularas walls, their flat green or brown bottoms sometimes scattered with hugeboulders, casting shadows so dark in the sunlight that a man or horsedisappeared in them as if the earth had opened and swallowed him up, wecame at length to a dell, or strath, of such charming luxuriance that itlooked to us, amid all the barrenness of this dreary wilderness, like anoasis dropped from the clouds, or some sweet green glade where fairiesmight dwell. 

I looked at my brother. The same thought must have struck each of us, atthe same moment--Why not make this glen our _habitat_ for a time?

'Oh!' cried Archie, 'this is a paradise!'

'Beautiful! lovely!' said Dugald. 'Suppose now--'

'Oh, I know what you are going to say, ' cried Donald. 

'And I second the motion, ' said Sandie Donaldson. 

'Well, ' I exclaimed, 'seeing, Sandie, that no motion has yet been made--'

'Here is the motion, then, ' exclaimed Dugald, jumping out of his saddle. 

It was a motion we all followed at once; and as the day was getting nearits close, the Gauchos set about looking for a bit of camping-ground atonce. As far as comfort was concerned, this might have been chosen almostanywhere, but we wanted to be near to water. Now here was the mystery: theglen was not three miles long altogether, and nowhere more than a milebroad; all along the bottom it was tolerably level and extremely wellwooded with quite a variety of different trees, among which pines, elms, chestnuts, and stunted oak-trees were most abundant; each side of the glenwas bounded by rising hills or braes covered with algorroba bushes andpatches of charmingly-coloured cacti, with many sorts of prickly shrubs, the very names of which we could not tell. Curious to say, there was verylittle undergrowth; and, although the trees were close enough in someplaces to form a jungle, the grass was green beneath. But at first wecould find no water. Leaving the others to rest by the edge of theminiature forest, Dugald and I and Archie set out to explore, and had notgone more than a hundred yards when we came to a little lake. We bentdown and tasted the water; it was pure and sweet and cool. 

'What a glorious find!' said Dugald. 'Why, this place altogether wassurely made for us. '

We hurried back to tell the news, and the horses and mules were led to thelake, which was little more than half an acre in extent. But not satisfiedwith drinking, most of the dogs plunged in; and horses and mules followedsuit. 

'Come, ' cried Donald, 'that is a sort of motion I will willingly second. 'He commenced to undress as he spoke. So did we all, and such splashing anddashing, and laughing and shouting, the birds and beasts in this romanticdale had surely never witnessed before. 

Dugald was an excellent swimmer, and as bold and headstrong in the wateras on the land. He had left us and set out to cross the lake. Suddenly wesaw him throw up his arms and shout for help, and we--Donald and I--atonce commenced swimming to his assistance. He appeared, however, in nodanger of sinking, and, to our surprise, although heading our way all thetime, he was borne away from us one minute and brought near us next. 

When close enough a thrill of horror went through me to hear poor Dugaldcry in a feeble, pleading voice, 'Come no nearer, boys: I soon must sink. Save yourselves: I'm in awhirlpool. '

It was too true, though almost too awful to be borne. I do not know howDonald felt at that moment, but as for myself I was almost paralyzed withterror. 

'Back, back, for your lives!' shouted a voice behind us. 

It was our Gaucho _capataz_. He was coming towards us with powerfulstrokes, holding in one hand a lasso. Instead of swimming on with us whenhe saw Dugald in danger, he had gone ashore at once and brought thelongest thong. 

We white men could have done nothing. We knew of nothing to do. We shouldhave floated there and seen our dear brother go down before our eyes, orswam recklessly, madly on, only to sink with him. 

Dugald, weak as he had become, sees the Gaucho will make an attempt tosave him, and tries to steady himself to catch the end of the lasso thatnow flies in his direction. 

But to our horror it falls short, and Dugald is borne away again, thecircles round which he is swept being now narrower. 

The Gaucho is nearer. He is perilously near. He will save him or perish. 

Again the lasso leaves his hand. Dugald had thrown up his hands and almostleapt from the water. He is sinking. Oh, good Gaucho! Oh, good _capataz_, surely Heaven itself directed that aim, for the noose fell over ourbrother's arms and tightened round the chest!

In a few minutes more we have laid his lifeless body on the green bank. 

Lifeless only for a time, however. Presently he breathes, and we carry himaway into the evening sunshine and place him on the soft warm moss. Hesoon speaks, but is very ill and weak; yet our thanks to God for hispreservation are very sincere. Surely there is a Providence around oneeven in the wilderness!

We might have explored our glen this same evening, perhaps we really oughtto have done so, but the excitement caused by Dugald's adventure puteverything else out of our heads. 

In this high region, the nights were even cold enough to make a positionnear the camp fire rather a thing to be desired than otherwise. It wasespecially delightful, I thought, on this particular evening to sit aroundthe fire and quietly talk. I reclined near Dugald, who had not yet quiterecovered. I made a bed for him with extra rugs; and, as he coughed a gooddeal, I begged of him to consider himself an invalid for one night atleast; but no sooner had he drunk his mug of _maté_ than he sat up andjoined in the conversation, assuring us he felt as well as ever he had inhis life. 

[Illustration: Tries to steady himself to catch the Lasso]

It was a lovely evening. The sky was unclouded, the stars shining out veryclear, and looking very near, while a round moon was rising slowly overthe hill-peaks towards the east, and the tall dark pine-trees were castinggloomy shadows on the lake, near which, in an open glade, we wereencamped. I could not look at the dark waters without a shudder, as Ithought of the danger poor Dugald had so narrowly escaped. I am not surethat the boy was not always my mother's favourite, and I know he wasFlora's. How could I have written and told them of his fearful end? Thevery idea made me creep nearer to him and put my arm round his shoulder. Isuppose he interpreted my thoughts, for he patted my knee in his brotherlyfond old fashion. 

Our Gaucho _capataz_ was just telling a story, an adventure of his own, inthe lonely pampas. He looked a strange and far from comely being, with hislong, straggling, elf-like locks of hair, his low, receding forehead, hisswarthy complexion, and high cheek bones. The mark of a terrible spearwound across his face and nose did not improve his looks. 

'Yes, señors, ' he was saying, 'that was a fearful moment for me. ' He threwback his poncho as he spoke, revealing three ugly scars on his chest. 'Yousee these, señors? It was that same tiger made the marks. It was akeepsake, ha! ha! that I will take to de grave with me, if any one shouldtrouble to bury me. It was towards evening, and we were journeying acrossthe pampa. We had come far that day, my Indians and me. We felttired--sometimes even Indians felt tired on de weary wide pampa. De sunhas been hot all day. We have been chased far by de white settlers. Deynot love us. Ha! ha! We have five score of de cattle with us. And we havespilt blood, and left dead and wounded Indians plenty on de pampa. Nevermind, I swear revenge. Oh, I am a bad man den. Gaucho malo, mucho malo, Nandrin, my brother _cacique_, hate me. I hate him. I wish him dead. Butde Indians love him all de same as me. By and by de sun go down, down, down, and we raise de _toldo_[14] in de cañon near a stream. Here growmany ombu-trees. The young señors have not seen this great tree; it is deking of the lonely pampa. Oh, so tall! Oh, so wide! so spreading andshady! Two, three ombu-trees grow near; but I have seen de great tigersleep in one. My brother _cacique_ have seen him too. When de big moonrise, and all is bright like de day, and no sound make itself heard but dewoo-hoo-woo of de pampa owl, I get quietly up and go to de ombu-tree. Ithink myself much more brave as my brother _cacique_. Ha! ha! he thinkhimself more brave as me. When I come near de ombu-trees I shout. Ugh! descream dat comes from de ombu-tree make me shake and shiver. Den deterrible tiger spring down; I will not run, I am too brave. I shoot. Henot fall. Next moment I am down--on my back I lie. One big foot is on me;his blood pour over my face. He pull me close and more close to him. Soon, ah, soon, I think my brother _cacique_ will be chief--I will be no more. De tiger licks my arm--my cheek. How he growl and froth! He is now goingto eat me. But no! Ha! ha! my brother _cacique_ have also leave de camp tocome to de ombu-tree. De tiger see him. P'r'aps he suppose his blood moresweet as mine. He leave poor me. Ha! ha! he catch my brother _cacique_ andcarry him under de shade of de ombu-tree. By and by I listen, and hear mybrother's bones go crash! crash! crash! De tiger is enjoying his supper!'

'But, _capataz_, ' I said, with a shudder, 'did you make no attempt to saveyour brother chief?'

'Not much! You see, he all same as dead. Suppose I den shoot, p'r'aps Ikill him for true; 'sides, I bad Gaucho den; not love anybody mooch. Nextday I kill dat tiger proper, and his skin make good ponchos. Ha! ha!'

Many a time during the Gaucho's recital he had paused and looked uneasilyaround him, for ever and anon the woods re-echoed with strange cries. Wewhite men had not lived long enough in beast-haunted wildernesses todistinguish what those sounds were, whether they proceeded from bird orbeast. 

As the _capataz_ stopped speaking, and we all sat silent for a short time, the cries were redoubled. They certainly were not calculated to raise ourspirits: some were wild and unearthly in the extreme, some were growls ofevident anger, some mere groanings, as if they proceeded from creaturesdying in pain and torment, while others again began in a low and mostmournful moan, rising quickly into a hideous, frightened, broken, orgurgling yell, then dying away again in dreary cadence. 

I could not help shuddering a little as I looked behind me into thedarkness of the forest. The whole place had an uncanny, haunted sort oflook, and I even began to wonder whether we might not possibly be thevictims of enchantment. Would we awaken in the morning and find no trees, no wood, no water, only a green cañon, with cliffs and hills on everyside?

'Look, look!' I cried, starting half up at last. 'Did none of you seethat?'

'What is it? Speak, Murdoch!' cried Archie; 'your face is enough tofrighten a fellow. '

I pressed my hand to my forehead. 

'Surely, ' I said, 'I am going to be ill, but I thought I could distinctlysee a tall grey figure standing among the trees. '

We resumed talking, but in a lower, quieter key. The events of theevening, our strange surroundings, the whispering trees, the occasionalstrange cries, and the mournful beauty of the night, seemed to have cast aglamour over every heart that was here; and though it was now long pastour usual hour for bed, no one appeared wishful to retire. 

All at once Archie grasped me by the shoulder and glanced fearfully intothe forest behind me. I dared scarcely turn my head till the click ofYambo's revolver reassured me. 

Yes, there was the figure in grey moving silently towards us. 

'Speak, quick, else I fire!' shouted our _capataz_. 

'_Ave Maria!_'

Yambo lowered the revolver, and we all started to our feet to confront thefigure in grey. 

-----

 [14] Toldo = a tent. 

CHAPTER XX. 

THE MOUNTAIN CRUSOE. 

The figure in grey--the grey was a garment of skin, cap, coat, breeches, and even boots, apparently all of the same material--approached withextended hand. We could see now it was no ghost who stood before us, but aman of flesh and blood. Very solid flesh, too, judging from the cheeksthat surmounted the silvery beard. The moon shone full on his face, and avery pleasant one it was, with a bright, merry twinkle in the eye. 

'Who are you?' said I. 

'Nay, pardon me, ' was the bold reply, 'but the question would come withgreater propriety from my lips. I need not ask it, however. You are rightwelcome to my little kingdom. You are, I can see, a party of rovinghunters. Few of your sort have ever come here before, I can tell you. '

'And you?' I said, smiling. 

'_I_ am--but there, what need to give myself a name? I have not heard myname for years. Call me Smith, Jones, Robinson; call me a hunter, atrapper, a madman, a fool--anything. '

'A hermit, anyhow, ' said Dugald. 

'Yes, boy, a hermit. '

'And an Englishman?'

'No; I am a Portuguese by birth, but I have lived in every country underthe sun, and here I am at last. Have I introduced myself sufficiently?'

'No, ' I said; 'but sit down. You have, ' I continued, 'only introducedyourself sufficiently to excite our curiosity. Yours must be a strangestory. '

'Oh, anybody and everybody who lives for over fifty years in the world asI have done has a strange story, if he cared to tell it. Mine is too long, and some of it too sad. I have been a soldier, a sailor, a traveller; Ihave been wealthy, I have been poor; I have been in love--my love left_me_. I forgot _her_. I have done everything except commit crime. I havenot run away from anywhere, gentlemen. There is no blood on my hands. Ican still pray. I still love. She whom I love is here. '

'Oh!' cried Dugald, 'won't you bring the lady?'

The hermit laughed. 

'She _is_ here, there, all around us. My mistress is Nature. Ah! boys, ' hesaid, turning to us with such a kind look, 'Nature breaks no hearts; andthe more you love her, the more she loves you, and leads youupwards--always upwards, never down. '

It was strange, but from the very moment he began to talk both my brothersand I began to like this hermit. His ways and his manners were quiteirresistible, and before we separated we felt as if we had known him allour lives. 

He was the last man my brothers and I saw that night, and he was the firstwe met in the morning. He had donned a light cloth poncho and a broadsombrero hat, and really looked both handsome and picturesque. 

We went away together, and bathed, and I told him of Dugald's adventure. He looked interested, patted my brother's shoulder, and said:

'Poor boy, what a narrow escape you have had!

'The stream, ' he continued, 'that flows through this strange glen rises inthe hills about five miles up. It rises from huge springs--you shall seethem--flows through the woods, and is sucked into the earth in the middleof that lake. I have lived here for fifteen years. Walk with me up theglen. Leave your rifles in your tents; there is nothing to hurt. '

We obeyed, and soon joined him, and together we strolled up the path thatled close by the banks of a beautiful stream. We were enchanted with thebeauty displayed everywhere about us, and our guide seemed pleased. 

'Almost all the trees and shrubs you see, ' he said, 'I have planted, andmany of the beautiful flowers--the orchids, the climbers, and creepers, all are my pets. Those I have not planted I have encouraged, and I believethey all know me. '

At this moment a huge puma came bounding along the path, but stopped whenhe saw us. 

'Don't be afraid, boys, ' said the hermit. 'This, too, is a pet. Do not beshy, Jacko. These are friends. '

The puma smelt us, then rubbed his great head against his master's leg, and trotted along by his side. 

'I have several. You will not shoot while you live here? Thanks. I have alarge family. The woods are filled with my family. I have brought themfrom far and near, birds and beasts of every kind. They see us now, butare shy. '

'I say, sir, ' said Dugald, 'you are Adam, and this is Paradise. '

The hermit smiled in recognition of the compliment, and we now approachedhis house. 

'I must confess, ' I said, 'that a more Crusoe-looking establishment it hasnever been my luck to behold. '

'You are young yet, ' replied the hermit, laughing, 'although you speak solike a book. 

'Here we are, then, in my compound. The fence, you see, is a very openone, for I desire neither to exclude the sunshine nor the fresh air frommy vegetables. Observe, ' he continued, 'that my hut, which consists of onelarge room, stands in the centre of a gravel square. '

'It is strange-looking gravel!' said Dugald. 

'It is nearly altogether composed of salt. My house is built of stone, butit is plastered with a kind of cement I can dig here in the hills. Thereis not a crevice nor hollow in all the wall, and it is four feet thick. The floor is also cemented, and so is the roof. '

'And this, ' I remarked, 'is no doubt for coolness in summer. '

'Yes, and warmth in winter, if it comes to that, and also for cleanliness. Yonder is a ladder that leads to the roof. Up there I lounge and think, drink my _maté_ and read. Oh yes, I have plenty of books, which I keep ina safe with bitter-herb powder--to save them, you know, from literary antsand other insects who possess an ambition to solve the infinite. Observeagain, that I have neither porch nor verandah to my house, and that thewindows are small. I object to a porch and to climbing things on the sameprinciple that I do to creeping, crawling creatures. The world is wideenough for us all. But they must keep to their side of the house at night, and I to mine. And mine is the inside. This is also the reason why most ofthe gravel is composed of salt. As a rule, creepies don't like it. '

'Oh, I'm glad you told us that, ' said Archie; 'I shall make my mule carrya bushel of it. I'm glad you don't like creepies, sir. '

'But, boy, I _do_. Only I object to them indoors. Walk in. Observe again, as a showman would say, how very few my articles of furniture are. Notice, however, that they are all scrupulously clean. Nevertheless, I have everyconvenience. That thong-bottomed sofa is my bed. My skins and rugs arekept in a bag all day, and hermetically sealed against the pryingprobosces of insectivora. Here is my stove, yonder my kitchen andscullery, and there hangs my armoury. Now I am going to call my servant. He is a Highlander like yourselves, boys; at any rate, he appears to be, for he never wears anything else except the kilt, and he talks a languagewhich, though I have had him for ten years, I do not yet understand. Archie, Archie, where are you?'

'Another Archie!' said Dugald, 'and a countryman, too?'

'He is shy of strangers. Archie, boy! He is swinging in some tree-top, nodoubt. '

'What a queer fellow he must be! Wears nothing but the kilt, speaksGaelic, swings in tree-tops, and is shy! A _rara avis_ indeed. '

'Ah! here he comes. Archie, spread the awning out of doors, lay the table, bring a jug of cold _maté_ and the cigars. '

Truly Archie was a curious Highlander. He was quite as tall as our Archie, and though the hermit assured us he was only a baby when he bought him inCentral Africa for about sevenpence halfpenny in Indian coin, he had nowthe wrinkled face of an old man of ninety--wrinkled, wizened, and weird. But his eye was singularly bright and young-looking. In his hand hecarried a long pole from which he had bitten all the bark, and his onlydress was a little petticoat of skunk skin, which the hermit called hiskilt. He was, in fact, an African orang-outang. 

'Come and shake hands with the good gentlemen, Archie. '

Archie knitted his brows, and looked at us without moving. The hermitlaughingly handed him a pair of big horn-rimmed spectacles. These he puton with all the gravity of some ancient professor of Sanscrit, then lookedus all over once again. 

We could stand this no longer, and so burst into a chorus of laughing. 

'Don't laugh longer than you can help, boys. See, Archie is angry. '

Archie was. He showed a mouth full of fearful-looking fangs, and fingeredhis club in a way that was not pleasant. 

'Archie, you may have some peaches presently. '

[Illustration: Interview with the Orang-outang]

Archie grew pleasant again in a moment, and advanced and shook hands withus all round, looking all the time, however, as if he had some silentsorrow somewhere. I confess he wrung our hands pretty hard. Neither mybrother nor I made any remark, but when it came to Archie's turn--

'Honolulu!' he shouted, shaking his fingers, and blowing on them. 'Ibelieve he has made the blood come!'

'I suppose, ' said Dugald, laughing, 'he knows you are a namesake. '

Off went the great baboon, and to our intense astonishment spread theawning, placed table and camp-stools under it, and fetched the cold _maté_with all the gravity and decorum of the chief steward on a first-classliner. 

I looked at my brothers, and they looked at me. 

'You seem all surprised, ' the hermit said, 'but remember that in oldentimes it was no rare thing to see baboons of this same species waiting atthe tables of your English nobility. Well, I am not only a noble, but aking; why should not I also have an anthropoid as a butler and valet?'

'I confess, ' I said, 'I for one am very much surprised at all I have seenand all that has happened since last night, and I really cannot helpthinking that presently I shall awake and find, as the story-books say, itis all a dream. '

'You will find it all a very substantial dream, I do assure you, sir. Buthelp yourself to the _maté_. You will find it better than any importedstuff. '

'Archie! Archie! Where are you?'

'Ah! ah! Yah, yah, yah!' cried Archie, hopping round behind his master. 

'The sugar, Archie. '

'Ah, ah, ah! Yah, yah!'

'Is that Gaelic, Dugald?' said our Archie. 

'Not quite, my cockney cousin. '

'I thought not. '

'Why?' said Dugald. 

'It is much more intelligible. '

The hermit laughed. 

'I think, Dugald, ' he said, 'your cousin has the best of you. '

He then made us tell him all our strange though brief history, as thereader already knows it. If he asked us questions, however, it wasevidently not for the sake of inquisitiveness, but to exchangeexperiences, and support the conversation. He was quite as ready to impartas to solicit information; but somehow we felt towards him as if he werean elder brother or uncle; and this only proves the hermit was a perfectgentleman. 

'Shall you live much longer in this beautiful wilderness?' asked Donald. 

'Well, I will tell you all about that, ' replied the hermit. 'And the allis very brief. When I came here first I had no intention of making a longstay. I was a trapper and hunter then pure and simple, and sold my skinsand other odds and ends which these hills yield--and what these are I mustnot even tell to you--journeying over the Andes with mules twice everyyear for that purpose. But gradually, as my trees and bushes and all thebeauty of this wild garden-glen grew up around me, and so many of God'swild children came to keep me company, I got to love my strange life. Sofrom playing at being a hermit, I dare say I have come to be one inreality. And now, though I have money--much more than one wouldimagine--in the Chilian banks, I do not seem to care to enter civilizedlife again. For some years back I have been promising myself a cityholiday, but I keep putting it off and off. I should not wonder if itnever comes, or, to speak more correctly, I should wonder if it ever came. Oh, I dare say I shall die in my own private wilderness here, with no oneto close my eyes but old Archie. '

'Do you still go on journeys to Chili?'

'I still go twice a year. I have strong fleet mules. I go once in summerand once in winter. '

'Going in winter across the Andes! That must be a terribly drearyjourney. '

'It is. Yet it has its advantages. I never have to flee from hostileIndians then. They do not like the hills in winter. '

'Are you not afraid of the pampas Indians?'

'No, not at all. They visit me occasionally here, but do not stay long. Itrust them, I am kind to them, and I have nothing they could find tosteal, even if they cared to be dishonest. But they are _not_. They aregood-hearted fellows in their own way. '

'Yes, ' I said, 'very much in their own way. '

'My dear boy, ' said the hermit, 'you do not know all. A different policywould have made those Indians the sworn friends, the faithful allies andservants of the white man. They would have kept then to their ownhunting-grounds, they would have brought to you wealth of skins, andwealth of gold and silver, too, for believe me, they (the Indians) havesecrets that the white trader little wots of. No, it is the dishonest, blood-stained policy of the Republic that has made the Indian what heis--his hand against every man, every man's hand against him. '

'But they even attack you at times, I think you gave us to understand?'

'Nay, not the pampas or pampean Indians: only prowling gipsy tribes fromthe far north. Even they will not when they know me better. My fame isspreading as a seer. '

'As a seer?'

'Yes, a kind of prophet. Do not imagine that I foster any such folly, onlythey will believe that, living here all alone in the wilds, I must havecommunication with--ha! ha! a worse world than this. '

As we rose to go the hermit held out his hand. 

'Come and see me to-night, ' he said; 'and let me advise you to make thisglen your headquarters for a time. The hills and glens and bush forleagues around abound in game. Then your way back lies across a pampanorth and east of here; not the road you have come. '

'By the by, ' said Archie, 'before we go, I want to ask you the questionwhich tramps always put in England: "Are the dogs all safe?"'

'Ah, ' said the hermit, smiling, 'I know what you mean. Yes, the dogs aresafe. My pet pumas will not come near you. I do not think that even myjaguars would object to your presence; but for safety's sake Archie shallgo along with you, and he shall also come for you in the evening. Give himthese peaches when you reach camp. They are our own growing, and Archiedotes upon them. '

So away back by the banks of the stream we went, our strange guide, clubin hand, going hopping on before. It did really seem all like a scene ofenchantment. 

We gave Archie the peaches, and he looked delighted. 

'Good-bye, old man, ' said Dugald, as he presented him with his. 

'Speak a word or two of Gaelic to him, ' said our Archie. 

Sandie Donaldson was indeed astonished at all we told him. 

'I suppose it's all right, ' he said, 'but dear me, that was anuncanny-looking creature you had hirpling on in front of you!'

In the evening, just as we had returned from a most successful guanacohunt, we found Donaldson's uncanny creature coming along the path. 

'I suppose he means us to dine with him, ' I remarked. 

'Ah, ah, ah! Yah, ah, yah!' cried the baboon. 

'Well, will you come, Sandie?'

Sandie shook his head. 

'Not to-night, ' said Sandie. 'Take care of yourselves, boys. Mind what theold proverb says: "They need a lang spoon wha sup wi' the deil. "'

We found the hermit at his gate, and glad he seemed to see us. 

'I've been at home all the afternoon, ' he said, 'cooking your dinner. Mostenjoyable work, I can assure you. All the vegetables are fresh, and eventhe curry has been grown on the premises. I hope you are fond ofarmadillo; that is a favourite dish of mine. But here we have roast ducks, partridges, and something that perhaps you have never tasted before, roast or boiled. For bread we have biscuit; for wine we have _maté_ andmilk. My goats come every night to be milked. Archie does the milking aswell as any man could. Ah, here come my dogs. '

Two deerhounds trotted up and made friends with us. 

'I bought them from a roving Scot two years ago while on a visit toChili. '

'How about the pumas? Don't they--'

'No, they come from the trees to sleep with Rob and Rory. Even the jaguarsdo not attempt to touch them. Sit down; you see I dine early. We will havetime before dusk to visit some of my pets. I hope they did not keep youawake. '

'No, but the noise would have done so, had we not known what they were. '

Conversation never once flagged all the time we sat at table. The hermithimself had put most of the dishes down, but Archie duly waited behind hismaster's chair, and brought both the _maté_ and the milk, as well as thefruit. This dessert was of the most tempting description; and not even atour own _estancia_ had I tasted more delicious grapes. But there were manykinds of fruit here we had never even seen before. As soon as we were donethe waiter had _his_ repast, and the amount of fruit he got throughsurprised us beyond measure. He squatted on the ground to eat. Well, whenhe commenced his dinner he looked a little old gentleman of somewhat sparehabit; when he rose up--by the aid of his pole--he was decidedly plump, not to say podgy. Even his cheeks were puffed out; and no wonder, theywere stuffed with nuts to eat at his leisure. 

'I dare say Archie eats at all odd hours, ' I said. 

'No, he does not, ' replied the hermit. 'I never encouraged him to do so, and now he is quite of my way of thinking, and never eats between meals. But come, will you light a cigarette and stroll round with me?'

'We will stroll round without the cigarette, ' I said. 

'Then fill your pockets with nuts and raisins; you must do something. '

'Feed the birds, Archie. '

'Ah, ah, ah! Yah, ah! Yah, yah!'

'The birds need not come to be fed; there is enough and to spare for themin the woods, but they think whatever we eat must be extra nice. We haveall kinds of birds except the British sparrow. I really hope you have notbrought him. They say he follows Englishmen to the uttermost parts of theworld. '

We waited for a moment, and wondered at the flocks of lovely bright-wingeddoves and pigeons and other birds that had alighted round the table toreceive their daily dole, then followed our hermit guide, to feast oureyes on other wonders not a whit less wonderful than all we had seen. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

WILD ADVENTURES ON PRAIRIE AND PAMPAS. 

If I were to describe even one half of the strange creatures we saw in thehermit's glen, the reader would be tired before I had finished, and eventhen I should not have succeeded in conveying anything like a correctimpression of this floral wilderness and natural menagerie. 

It puzzled me to know, and it puzzles me still, how so many wild creaturescould have been got together in one place. 

'I brought many of them here, ' the hermit told us, 'but the others came, lured, no doubt, by the water, the trees, and the flowers. '

'But was the water here when you arrived?'

'Oh yes, else I would not have settled down here. The glen was a sort ofoasis even then, and there were more bushes and trees than ever I had seenbefore in one place. The ducks and geese and swans, in fact, all theweb-footed fraternity, had been here before me, and many birds and beastsbesides--the biscachas, the armadilloes, the beetle-eating pichithiego, for instance--the great ant-eater, and the skunk--I have banished that, however--wolves, foxes, kites, owls, and condors. I also found peccaries, and some deer. These latter, and the guanaco, give me a wide berth now. They do not care for dogs, pumas, and jaguars. Insects are rather toonumerous, and I have several species of snakes. '

Archie's--_our_ Archie's--face fell. 

'Are they?' he began, 'are they very--'

'Very beautiful? Yes; indeed, some are charming in colour. One, forexample, is of the brightest crimson streaked with black. '

'I was not referring to their beauty; I meant were they dangerous?'

'Well, I never give them a chance to bite me, and I do not think they wantto; but all snakes are to be avoided and left severely alone. '

'Or killed, sir?'

'Yes, perhaps, if killed outright; for the pampan Indians have an ideathat if a rattlesnake be only wounded, he will come back for revenge. Butlet us change the subject. You see those splendid butterflies? Well, byand by the moths will be out; they are equally lovely, but when I firstcame here there were very few of either. They followed the flowers, andthe humming-birds came next, and many other lovely gay-coloured littlesongsters. I introduced most of the parrots and toucans. There are two upthere even now. They would come down if you were not here. '

'They are very funny-looking, but very pretty, ' said Dugald. 'I could stopand look at them for hours. '

'But we must proceed. Here are the trees where the parrots mostly live. Early as it is, you see they are retiring. '

What a sight! What resplendency of colour and beauty! Such bright metallicgreen, lustrous orange, crimson and bronze!

'Why do they frequent this particular part of the wood?' said Dugald. 

'Ah, boy, ' replied the hermit, 'I see you want to know everything. Don'tbe ashamed of that; you are a true naturalist at heart. Well, the parrotslike to be by themselves, and few of my birds care to live among them. You will notice, too, that yonder are some eucalyptus trees, and fartherup some wide-spreading, open-branched trees, with flowers creeping andclinging around the stems. Parrots love those trees, because while therethey have sunshine, and because birds of prey cannot easily tell which isparrot and which is flower or flame-coloured lichen. '

'That is an advantage. '

'Well, yes; but it is an advantage that also has a disadvantage, for ourserpents are so lovely that even they are not easily seen by the parrotswhen they wriggle up among the orchids. '

'Can the parrots defend themselves against snakes?'

'Yes, they can, and sometimes even kill them. I have noticed this, but asa rule they prefer to scare them off by screaming. And they can scream, too. "As deaf as an adder, " is a proverb; well, I believe it was theparrot that first deafened the adder, if deaf it be. '

'Have you many birds of prey?'

'Yes, too many. But, see here. '

'I see nothing. '

'No, but you soon shall. Here in the sunniest bank, and in this sunniestpart of the wood, dwell a family of that remarkable creature the blindarmadillo, or pichithiego. I wonder if any one is at home. '

As he spoke, the hermit knelt down and buried his hands in the sand, soonbringing to the surface a very curious little animal indeed, one of thetenderest of all armadilloes. 

It shivered as it cuddled into the hermit's arms. 

Dugald laughed aloud. 

'Why, ' he cried, 'it seems to end suddenly half-way down; and that drolltail looks stuck on for fun. '

'Yes, it is altogether a freak of Nature, and the wonder to me is how, being so tender, it lives here at all. You see how small and delicate athing it is. They say it is blind, but you observe it is not; althoughthe creatures live mostly underground. They also say that the_chlamyphorus truncatus_--which is the grand name for my weefriend, --carries its young under this pink or rosy shell jacket, but thisI very much doubt. Now go to bed, little one. 

'I have prettier pets than even these, two species of agoutis, forinstance, very handsome little fellows indeed, and like rats in many oftheir ways and in many of their droll antics. They are not fond ofstrangers, but often come out to meet me in my walks about the woods. Theylive in burrows, but run about plentifully enough in the open air, although their enemies are very numerous. Even the Indians capture and eatthem, as often raw as not. 

'You have heard of the peccary. Well, I have never encouraged these wildwee pigs, and for some years after I came, there were none in the woods. One morning I found them, however, all over the place in herds. I neverknew where they came from, nor how they found us out. But I do know thatfor more than two years I had to wage constant war with them. '

'They were good to eat?'

'They were tolerably good, especially the young, but I did not want forfood; and, besides, they annoyed my wee burrowing pets, and, in fact, theyderanged everything, and got themselves thoroughly hated wherever theywent. '

'And how did you get rid of them?'

'They disappeared entirely one night as if by magic, and I have never seennor heard one since. But here we are at my stable. '

'I see no stable, ' I said. 

'Well, it is an enclosure of half an acre, and my mules and goats arecorralled here at night. '

'Do not the pumas or jaguars attempt to molest the mules or goats?'

'Strange to say, they do not, incredible as it may seem. But come in, andyou will see a happy family. '

'What are these?' cried Dugald. 'Dogs?'

'No, boy, one is a wolf, the other two are foxes. All three were suckledby one of my dogs, and here they are. You see, they play with the goats, and are exceedingly fond of the mules. They positively prefer the companyof the mules to mine, although when I come here with their foster-dam, thedeerhound, they all condescend to leave this compound and to follow methrough the woods. 

'Here come my mules. Are they not beauties?'

We readily admitted they were, never having seen anything in size andshape to equal them. 

'Now, you asked me about the jaguars. Mine are but few; they are also verycivil; but I do believe that one of these mules would be a match even fora jaguar. If the jaguar had one kick he would never need another. Thegoats--here they come--herd close to the mules, and the foxes and wolf aresentinels, and give an alarm if even a strange monkey comes near thecompound. Ah, here come my pet toucans!'

These strange-beaked birds came floating down from a tree to the number ofnearly a dozen, nor did they look at all ungainly, albeit their beaks areso wondrously large. 

'What do they eat?'

'Everything; but fruit is the favourite dish with them. But look up. Doyou see that speck against the cloud yonder, no bigger in appearance thanthe lark that sings above the cornfields in England? See how it circlesand sweeps round and round. Do you know that bird is a mile above us?'

'That is wonderful!'

'And what think you it is doing? Why, it is eyeing you and me. It is mypet condor. The only bird I do not feed; but the creature loves me wellfor all that. He is suspicious of your presence. Now watch, and I willbring him down like an arrow. '

The hermit waved a handkerchief in a strange way, and with one felldownward swoop, in a few seconds the monster eagle had alighted near us. 

Well may the condor be called 'king of the air, ' I thought, for neverbefore had I seen so majestic a bird. He was near us now, and scrutinizingus with that bold fierce eye of his, as some chieftain in the brave daysof old might have gazed upon spies that he was about to order away toexecution. I believed then--and I am still of the same opinion--that therewas something akin to pity and scorn in his steadfast looks, as if we hadbeen brought here for his especial delectation and study. 

'Poor wretched bipeds!' he seemed to say; 'not even possessed of feathers, no clothes of their own, obliged to wrap themselves in the hair and skinsof dead quadrupeds. No beaks, no talons; not even the wings of a miserablebat. Never knew what it was to mount and soar into the blue sky to meetthe morning sun; never floated free as the winds far away in the realms ofspace; never saw the world spread out beneath them like a living panorama, its woods and forests mere patches of green or purple, its lakes likesheets of shimmering ice, its streams like threads of spiders' webs beforethe day has drunk the dew, its very deserts dwarfed by distance till theguanacos and the ostriches[15] look like mites, and herds of wild horsesappear but crawling ants. Never knew what it was to circle round theloftiest summits of the snow-clad voiceless Andes, while down in thevalleys beneath dark clouds rolled fiercely on, and lightnings playedacross the darkness; nor to perch cool and safe on peak or pinnacle, whilebelow on earth's dull level the hurricane Pampero was levelling house andhut and tree; or the burning breath of the Zonda was sweeping over theland, scorching every flower and leaf, drinking every drop of dew, draining even the blood of moving beings till eyes ache and brains reel, till man himself looks haggard, wild, and worn, and the beasts of theforest, hidden in darkling caves, go mad and rend their young. '

The hermit returned with us to our camping-ground just as great bats beganto circle and wheel around, as butterflies were folding their wings andgoing to sleep beneath the leaves, and the whole woodland glen began toawake to the screaming of night-birds, to the mournful howling of strangemonkeys, and hoarse growl of beasts of prey. 

We sat together till far into the night listening to story after story ofthe wild adventures of our new but nameless hero, and till the moon--sohigh above us now that the pine-trees no longer cast their shadows acrossthe glade--warned us it was time to retire. 

'Good night, boys all, ' said the hermit; 'I will come again to-morrow. '

He turned and walked away, his _potro_ boots making no sound on the sward. We watched him till the gloom of the forest seemed to swallow him up. 

'What a strange being!' said Archie, with a sigh. 

'And what a lonely life to lead!' said Donald. 

'Ah!' said Dugald, 'you may sigh as you like, Archie, and say what youplease, I think there is no life so jolly, and I've half a mind to turnhermit myself. '

We lived in the glen for many weeks. No better or more idyllicheadquarters could possibly have been found or even imagined, while allaround us was a hunter's paradise. We came at last to look upon thehermit's dell as our home, but we did not bivouac there every night. Therewere times when we wandered too far away in pursuit of the guanaco, thepuma, jaguar, or even the ostrich, which we found feeding on plains at nogreat distance from our camp. 

It was a glorious treat for all of us to find ourselves on these miniaturepampas, across which we could gallop unfettered and free. 

Under the tuition of Yambo, our _capataz_, and the other Gauchos, webecame adepts in the use of both bolas and lasso. Away up among thebeetling crags and in the deep, gloomy caverns we had to stalk theguanacos as the Swiss mountaineer stalks the chamois. Oh, our adventuresamong the rocks were sometimes thrilling enough! But here on the plainsanother kind of tactics was pursued. I doubt if we could have ridden nearenough to the ostriches to bola them, so our plan was to make _détours_ onthe pampas until we had outflanked, encircled, and altogether puzzled ourquarry. Then riding in a zigzag fashion, gradually we narrowed the ringtill near enough to fire. When nearer still the battue and stampedecommenced, and the scene was then wild and confusing in the extreme. Thefrightened whinny or neigh of the guanacos, the hoarse whirr of the flyingostriches, the shouts of the Gauchos, the bark and yell of dogs, thewhistling noise of lasso or bolas, the sharp ringing of rifle andrevolver--all combined to form a medley, a huntsman's chorus which no onewho has once heard it and taken part in it is likely to forget. 

When too far from the camp, then we hobbled our horses at the nearest spotwhere grass and water could be found, and after supping on broiled guanacosteak and ostrich's gizzard--in reality right dainty morsels--we wouldroll ourselves in our guanaco robes, and with saddles for pillows goquietly to sleep. Ah, I never sleep so soundly now as I used to thenbeneath the stars, fanned by the night breeze; and although the dews layheavy on our robes in the morning, we awoke as fresh as the daisies and ashappy as puma cubs that only wake to play. 

We began to get wealthy ere long with a weight of skins of birds andbeasts. Some of the most valuable of these were procured from a species ofotter that lived in the blackest, deepest pools of a stream we had fallenin with in our wanderings. The Gauchos had a kind of superstitious dreadof the huge beast, whom they not inappropriately termed the river tiger. 

We had found our dogs of the greatest use in the hills, especially ourmonster bloodhound-mastiffs. These animals possessed nearly all thetracking qualities of the bloodhound, with more fierceness and speed thanthe mastiff, and nearly the same amount of strength. Their courage, too, and general hardiness were very great. 

Among our spoils we could count the skins of no less than fifteen splendidpumas. Several of these had shown fight. Once, I remember, Archie hadleapt from his horse and was making his way through a patch of bush on theplains, in pursuit of a young guanaco which he had wounded. He was allalone: not even a dog with him; but Yambo's quick ear had detected thegrowl of a lion in that bit of scrub, and he at once started off three ofhis best dogs to the scene of Archie's adventure. Not two hundred yardsaway myself, but on high ground, I could see everything, though powerlessto aid. I could see Archie hurrying back through the bush. I could see thepuma spring, and my poor cousin fall beneath the blow--then the deathstruggle began. It was fearful while it lasted, which was only thebriefest possible time, for, even as I looked, the dogs were on the puma. The worrying, yelling, and gurgling sounds were terrible. I saw the pumaon its hind legs, I saw one dog thrown high in the air, two others on thewild beast's neck, and next moment Yambo himself was there, with everyother horseman save myself tearing along full tilt for the battle-field. 

Yambo's long spear had done the work, and all the noise soon ceased. Though stunned and frightened, Archie was but little the worse. One dogwas killed. It seemed to have been Yambo's favourite. I could not helpexpressing my astonishment at the exhibition of Yambo's grief. Here was aman, once one of the cruellest and most remorseless of desert wanderers, whose spear and knife had many a time and oft drunk human blood, sheddingtears over the body of his poor dog! Nor would he leave the place until hehad dug a grave, and, placing the bleeding remains therein, sadly andslowly covered them up. 

But Yambo would meet his faithful hound again in the happy hunting-groundssomewhere beyond the sky. That, at least, was Yambo's creed, and whoshould dare deny him the comfort and joy the thought brings him!

 * * * * *

It was now the sweetest season of all the year in the hills--the Indiansummer. The fierce heat had fled to the north, fled beyond the salt plainsof San Juan, beyond the wild desert lands of Rioja and arid sands ofCatamarca, lingering still, perhaps, among the dreamland gardens ofTucuman, and reaching its eternal home among the sun-kissed forests ofleafy Brazil and Bolivia. The autumn days were getting shorter, the skywas now more soft, the air more cool and balmy, while evening afterevening the sun went down amidst a fiery magnificence of colouring thatheld us spellbound and silent to behold. 

A month and more in the hermit's glen! We could hardly believe it. Howquickly the time had flown! How quickly time always does fly when one ishappy!

And now our tents are struck, our mules are laden. We have but to saygood-bye to the solitary being who has made the garden in the wildernesshis home, and go on our way. 

'Good-bye!'

'Good-bye!'

Little words, but sometimes _so_ hard to say. 

We had actually begun to like--ay, even to love the hermit, and we had notfound it out till now. But I noticed tears in Dugald's eye, and I am notquite sure my own were not moist as we said farewell. 

We glanced back as we rode away to wave our hands once more. The hermitwas leaning against a tree. Just then the sun came struggling out fromunder a cloud, the shadow beneath the tree darkened and darkened, till itswallowed him up. 

And we never saw the hermit more. 

-----

 [15] The _Rhea Americana_. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

ADVENTURE WITH A TIGER. 

Two years more have passed away, four years in all, since we first setfoot in the Silver West. What happy, blithesome years they had been, too!Every day had brought its duties, every duty its pleasures as well. Duringall this time we could not look back with regret to one unpleasant hour. Sometimes we had endured some crosses as well, but we brothers bore them, I believe, without a murmur, and Moncrieff without one complaining word. 

'Boys, ' he would say, quietly, 'nobody gets it all his own way in thisworld. We must just learn to take the thick wi' the thin. '

Moncrieff was somewhat of a proverbial philosopher; but had he beenentrusted with the task of selecting proverbs that should smooth one'spath in life, I feel sure they would have been good ones. 

Strath Coila New, as we called the now green valley in which our littlecolony had been founded, had improved to a wonderful extent in so brief atime. The settlers had completed their houses long ago; they, likeourselves, had laid out their fields and farms and planted theirvineyards; the hedges were green and flowering; the poplar-trees andwillows had sprung skywards as if influenced by magic--the magic of avirgin soil; the fields were green with waving grain and succulentlucerne; the vines needed the help of man to aid them in supporting theirwondrous wealth of grapes; fruit grew everywhere; birds sang everywhere, and to their music were added sounds even sweeter still to our ears--thelowing of herds of sleek fat cattle, the bleating armies of sheep, thehome-like noise of poultry and satisfied grunting of lazy pigs. The lattersometimes fed on peaches that would have brought tears of joy to the eyesof many an English market gardener. 

Our villa was complete now; wings and tower, and terraced lawns leadingdown to the lake, close beside which Dugald had erected a boat-house thatwas in itself like a little fairy palace. Dugald had always a turn for theromantic, and nothing would suit him by way of a boat except a gondola. What an amount of time and taste he had bestowed on it too! and how theGaucho carpenters had worked and slaved to please him and make itcomplete! But there it was at last, a thing of beauty, in allconscience--prows and bows, cushioned seats, and oars, and awnings, allcomplete. 

It was his greatest pleasure to take auntie, Aileen, and old Jenny out toskim the lake in this gondola, and sit for long happy hours reading orfishing. 

Even Bombazo used to form an item in these pleasant little excursions. Hecertainly was no use with an oar, but it was the 'bravo' captain's delightto dress as a troubadour and sit twanging the light guitar under theawnings, while Aileen and auntie plied the oars. 

Dugald was still our mighty hunter, the fearless Nimrod of hill and strathand glen. But he was amply supported in all his adventures by Archie, whohad wonderfully changed for the better. He was brown and hard now, anexcellent horseman, and crack shot with either the revolver or rifle. 

Between the two of them, though ably assisted by a Gaucho or two, they hadfitted up the ancient ruined monastery far away among the hills as a kindof shooting-box, and here they spent many a day, and many a night aswell. Archie had long since become acclimatized to all kinds ofcreepies--they no longer possessed any terrors for him. 

The ruin, as I have before hinted, must have, at some bygone period, belonged to the Jesuits; but so blown up with sand was it when Dugald tookpossession that the work of restoration to something like its pristineform had been a task of no little difficulty. The building stood on aslight eminence, and at one side grew a huge ombu-tree. It was under thisthat the only inhabitable room lay. This room had two windows, one on eachside, facing each other, one looking east, the other west. Neither glassnor frames were in these windows, and probably had not existed even in theJesuits' time. The room was cooler without any such civilizedarrangements. 

It was a lonesome, eerie place at the very best, and that weird lookingombu-tree, spreading its dark arms above the grey old walls, did notdetract from the air of gloom that surrounded it. Sometimes Archie saidlaughingly that the tree was like a funeral pall. Well, the half-casteIndians of the _estancias_ used to give this ruin a wide berth; they hadnasty stories to tell about it, stories that had been handed down throughgenerations. There were few indeed of even the Gauchos who would havecared to remain here after night-fall, much less sleep within its walls. But when Dugald's big lamp stood lighted on the table, when a fire of woodburned on the low hearth, and a plentiful repast, with bowls of steamingfragrant _maté_, stood before the young men, then the room looked far fromuncomfortable. 

There was at each side a hammock hung, which our two hunters slept in onnights when they had remained too long on the hill, or wanted to be earlyat the chase in the morning. 

'Whose turn is it to light the fire to-night?' said Dugald, one winterevening, as the two jogged along together on their mules towards the ruin. 

'I think it is mine, cousin. Anyhow, if you feel lazy I'll make it so. '

'No, I'm not lazy, but I want to take home a bird or two to-morrow thatauntie's very soul loveth, so if you go on and get supper ready I shall goround the red dune and try to find them. '

'You won't be long?'

'I sha'n't be over an hour. '

Archie rode on, humming a tune to himself. Arrived at the ruin, he castthe mule loose, knowing he would not wander far away, and would find juicynourishment among the more tender of the cacti sprouts. 

Having lit a roaring fire, and seen it burn up, Archie spread asunder someof the ashes, and placed thereon a huge pie-dish--not an empty one--towarm. Meanwhile he hung a kettle of water on the hook above the fire, and, taking up a book, sat down by the window to read by the light of thesetting sun until the water should boil. 

A whole half-hour passed away. The kettle had rattled its lid, and Archiehad hooked it up a few links, so that the water should not be wasted. Itwas very still and quiet up here to-night, and very lonesome too. The sunhad just gone down, and all the western sky was aglow with clouds, whoseever-changing beauty it was a pleasure to watch. Archie was beginning towish that Dugald would come, when he was startled at hearing a strange andpiercing cry far down below him in the cactus jungle. It was a cry thatmade his flesh quiver and his very spine feel cold. It came from no humanlips, and yet it was not even the scream of a terror-struck mule. Nextminute the mystery was unravelled, and Dugald's favourite mule camegalloping towards the ruin, pursued by an enormous tiger, as the jaguar iscalled here. 

[Illustration: On the same Limb of the Tree]

Just as he had reached the ruin the awful beast had made his spring. Histalons drew blood, but the next moment he was rolling on the ground withone eye apparently knocked out, and the foam around his fang-filled mouthmixed with blood; and the mule was over the hills and safe, while thejaguar was venting his fume and fury on Archie's rugs, which, with hisgun, he had left out there. 

There is no occasion to deny that the young man was almost petrified withfear, but this did not last long: he must seek for safety somehow, somewhere. To leave the ruin seems certain death, to remain is impossible. Look, the tiger even already has scented him; he utters another fearfulyell, and makes direct for the window. The tree! the tree! Something seemsto utter those words in his ear as he springs from the open window. Thejaguar has entered the room as Archie, with a strength he never knew hepossessed, catches a lower limb and hoists himself up into the tree. Hehears yell after yell; now first in the ruin, next at the tree foot, andthen in the tree itself. Archie creeps higher and higher up, till thebranches can no longer bear him, and after him creeps death in the mostawful form imaginable. Already the brute is so close that he sees hisglaring eye and hears his awful scenting and snuffling. Archie isfascinated by that tiger's face so near him--on the same limb of the tree, he himself far out towards the point. This must be fascination. He feelslike one in a strange dream, for as the time goes by and the tiger springsnot, he takes to speculating almost calmly on his fate, and wonderingwhere the beast will seize him first, and if it will be very painful; ifhe will hear his own bones crash, and so faint and forget everything. Whatfangs the tiger has! How broad the head, and terribly fierce the grin! Buthow the blood trickles from the wound in the skull! He can hear itpattering on the dead leaves far beneath. 

Why doesn't the tiger spring and have it over? Why does--but look, look, the brute has let go the branch and fallen down, down with a crash, andArchie hears the dull thud of the body on the ground. 

Dead--to all intents and purposes. The good mule's hoof had cloven theskull. 

'Archie! Archie! where on earth are you? Oh, Archie!'

It is Dugald's voice. The last words are almost a shriek. 

Then away goes fear from Archie's heart, and joy unspeakable takes itsplace. 

'Up here, Dugald, ' he shouts, 'safe and sound. '

I leave the reader to guess whether Dugald was glad or not to see hiscousin drop intact from the ombu-tree, or whether or not they enjoyedtheir pie and _maté_ that evening after this terrible adventure. 

'I wonder, ' said Archie, later on, and just as they were preparing forhammock, 'I wonder, Dugald, if that tiger has a wife. I hope she won'tcome prowling round after her dead lord in the middle of the night. '

'Well, anyhow, Archie, we'll have our rifles ready, and Dash will give usample warning, you know. So good-night. '

'Good-night. Don't be astonished if you hear me scream in my sleep. I feelsure I'll dream I'm up in that dark ombu-tree, and perhaps in the clutchesof that fearsome tiger. '

 * * * * *

About a month after the above related adventure the young men had anotherat that very ruin, which, if not quite so stirring, was at all events farmore mysterious. 

It happened soon after a wild storm, a kind of semi-pampero, had sweptover the glen with much thunder and lightning and heavy rains. It hadcleared the atmosphere, however, which previously had been hazy and close. It had cooled it as well, so that one afternoon, Dugald, addressingArchie, said, 'What do you say to an early morning among the birds to-morrow, cousin?'

'Oh, I'm ready, Dugald, if you are, ' was the reply. 

'Well, then, off you trot to the kitchen, and get food ready, and I'll seeto the shooting tackle and the mules. '

When Dugald ran over to say good-night to Moncrieff and Aileen before theystarted, he met old Jenny in the door. 

'Dear laddie, ' she said, when she heard he was bound for the hills, 'Ihope nae ill will come over ye; but I wot I had an unco' ugly dream lastnight. Put your trust in Providence, laddie. And ye winna forget to sayyour prayers, will ye?'

'That we won't, mother. Ta, ta!'

Moncrieff saw Dugald to his own gate. With them went Wolf, the largestbloodhound-mastiff. 

'Dreams, ' said Moncrieff, 'may be neither here nor there; but you'll benone the worse for taking Wolf. '

'Thank you, ' said Dugald; 'he shall come, and welcome. '

The sun had quite set before they reached the ruin, but there was abeautiful after-glow in the west--a golden haze beneath, with a kind ofcrimson blush over it higher up. When they were on a level with the ruin, the two windows of which, as already stated, were opposite to each other, Archie said, musingly, 'Look, Dugald, what a strange and beautiful light is streaming through thewindows!'

'Yes, ' replied Dugald, 'but there is something solemn, even ghostly, aboutit. Don't you think so?'

'True; there always is something ghostly about an empty ruin, I think. Areyou superstitious?'

'No; but--see. What was that? Why, there is some one there! Look to yourrifle, Archie. It was an Indian, I am certain. '

What had they seen? Why, only the head and shoulders of a passing figurein the orange light of the two windows. It had appeared but onemoment--next it was gone. Rifles in left hand, revolvers in right, theycautiously approached the ruin and entered. Never a soul was here. Theywent out again, and looked around; they even searched the ombu-tree, butall in vain. 

'Our eyes must have deceived us, ' said Dugald. 

'I think, ' said Archie, 'I have a theory that might explain the mystery. '

'What is it, then?'

'Well, that was no living figure we saw. '

'What! You don't mean to say, Archie, it was a ghost?'

'No, but a branch of that ghostly ombu-tree moved by a passing windbetween us and the light. '

As he spoke they rounded the farthest off gable of the ruin, and thereboth stopped as suddenly as if shot. Close beside the wall, with some rudedigging tools lying near, was a newly-opened grave!

'This is indeed strange, ' said Dugald, remembering old Jenny's warning anddream; 'I cannot make it out. '

'Nor can I. However, we must make the best of it. '

By the time supper was finished they had almost forgotten all about it. Only before lying down that night--

'I say, Archie, ' said Dugald, 'why didn't we think of it?'

'Think of what?'

'Why, of putting Wolf the mastiff on the track. If there have been Indianshere he would have found them out. '

'It will not be too late to-morrow, perhaps. '

Dugald lay awake till it must have been long past midnight. He tried tosleep, but failed, though he could tell from his regular breathing thatnothing was disturbing Archie's repose. It was a beautiful night outside, and the light from a full moon streamed in at one window and fell on theform of good Wolf, who was curled up on the floor; the other window wasshaded by the branches of the ombu-tree. No matter how calm it might be inthe valley below, away up here there was always a light breeze blowing, and to-night the whispering in the tree at times resembled the sound ofhuman voices. So thought Dugald. Several times he started and listened, and once he felt almost sure he heard footsteps as of people movingoutside. Then again all sounds--if sounds there had been--ceased, andnothing was audible save the sighing wind in the ombu-tree. Oh, thatstrange waving ombu-tree! He wondered if it really had some dark secret towhisper to him, and had chosen this silent hour of night to reveal it. 

Hark, that was a sound this time! The mournful but piercing cry of anight-bird. 'Chee-hee-ee! chee-hee-ee!' It was repeated farther up thehill. But could the dog be deceived? Scarcely; and growling low as if inanger, Wolf had arisen and stood pointing towards the ombu-shaded window. 

With one accord both Dugald and Archie, seizing their revolvers andjumping from their hammocks, ran out just in time to see a tall figurecross a patch of moonlit sward and disappear in the cactus jungle. 

Both fired in the direction, but of course aimlessly, and it was with thegreatest difficulty they succeeded in keeping the great dog from followinginto the bush. 

They were disturbed no more that night; and daylight quite banished theirfears, though it could not dispel the mystery of the newly-dug grave. 

Indeed, they could even afford to joke a little over the matter now. 

'There is something in it, depend upon that, ' said Dugald, as the twostood together looking into the hole. 

'There doesn't seem to be, ' said Archie, quizzingly. 

'And I mean to probe it to the bottom. '

'Suppose you commence now, Dugald. Believe me, there is no time like thepresent. Here are the tools. They look quite antediluvian. Do you thinknow that it really was a flesh-and-blood Indian we saw here; or was it theghost of some murdered priest? And has he been digging down here toexcavate his own old bones, or have a peep to see that they are safe?'

'Archie, ' said Dugald, at last, as if he had not listened to a word of hiscompanion's previous remarks, 'Archie, we won't go shooting to-day. '

'No?'

'No, we will go home instead, and bring Moncrieff and my brothers here. Ibegin to think this is no grave after all. '

'Indeed, Dugald, and why?'

'Why, simply for this reason: Yambo has told me a wonderful blood-curdlingstory of two hermit priests who lived here, and who had found treasureamong the hills, and were eventually murdered and buried in this veryruin. According to the tradition the slaughtering Indians were themselvesafterwards killed, and since then strange appearances have taken placefrom time to time, and until we made a shooting-box of the ruin no Gauchoscould be found bold enough to go inside it, nor would any Indian comewithin half a mile of the place. That they have got more courageous now wehad ample evidence last night. '

'And you think that--'

'I think that Indians are not far away, and that--but come, let us saddleour mules and be off. '

It was high time, for at that very moment over a dozen pairs of fierceeyes were watching them from the cactus jungle. Spears were even poisedready for an attack, and only perhaps the sight of that ferocious-lookingdog restrained them. 

No one could come more speedily to a conclusion than Moncrieff. He hardlywaited to hear Dugald's story before he had summoned Yambo, and bade himget ready with five trusty Gauchos to accompany them to the hills. 

'Guns, señor?'

'Ay, guns, Yambo, and the other dog. We may have to draw a trigger or two. Sharp is the word, Yambo!'

In two hours more, and just as the winter's sun was at its highest, we allreached the cactus near the old monastic ruin. Here a spear flew closepast Moncrieff's head. A quick, fierce glance of anger shot from the eyesof this buirdly Scot. He called a dog, and in a moment more disappeared inthe jungle. A minute after there was the sharp ring of a revolver, ashriek, a second shot, and all was still. Presently Moncrieff rode back, looking grim, but calm and self-possessed. 

There was no one near the ruin when we advanced, but the Indians had beenhere. The grave was a grave no longer in shape, but a huge hole. 

'Set to work, Yambo, with your men. They have saved us trouble. Dugald andArchie and Donald, take three men and the dogs and scour the bush roundhere. Then place sentinels about, and post yourselves on top of the reddune. '

Yambo and his men set to work in earnest, and laboured untiringly forhours and hours, but without finding anything. A halt was called at lastfor rest and refreshment; then the work was commenced with greater heartthan ever. 

I had ridden away to the red dune to carry food to my brothers and thedogs and the sentinels. 

The day was beginning already to draw to a close. The sky all above wasblue and clear, but along the horizon lay a bank of grey rolling clouds, that soon would be changed to crimson and gold by the rays of the settingsun. Hawks were poised high in the air, and flocks of kites were slowlywinging their way to the eastward. 

From our position on the summit of the red dune we had a most extendedview on all sides. We could even see the tall waving poplars of our own_estancias_, and away westward a vast rolling prairie of pampa land, bounded by the distant _sierras_. My eyes were directed to one level andsnow-white patch in the plain, which might have been about three squaremiles in extent, when suddenly out from behind some dunes that lay beyondrode a party of horsemen. We could tell at a glance they were Indians, andthat they were coming as fast as fleet horses could carry them, straightfor the hill on which we stood. There was not a moment to lose, so, leaping to the back of my mule, I hurried away to warn our party. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

A RIDE FOR LIFE. 

'Moncrieff!' I cried, as soon as I got within hail, 'the Indians will beon us in less than half an hour!'

'Then, boy, ' replied Moncrieff, 'call in your brothers and the men; theycannot hold the dune. We must fight them here, if it be fighting theymean. Hurry back, I have something to show you. '

We had all returned in less than ten minutes. Greatly to our astonishment, we found no one in the pit now, but we heard voices beneath, and I hurriedin and down. 

They had found a cave; whether natural or not we could not at present say. At one side lay a heap of mouldering bones, in the opposite corner a hugewooden chest. Moncrieff had improvised a torch, and surely Aladdin in hiscave could not have been more astonished at what he saw than we were now!The smoky light fell on the golden gleam of nuggets! Yes, there they were, of all shapes and sizes. Moncrieff plunged his hand to the bottom of thebox and stirred them up as he might have done roots or beans. 

This, then, was the secret the ruin had held so long--the mystery of thegiant ombu-tree. 

That the Indians in some way or other had got scent of this treasure wasevident, and as these wandering savages care little if anything for goldon their own account, it was equally evident that some white man--himselfnot caring to take the lead or even appear--was hounding them on to findit, with the promise doubtless of a handsome reward. 

Not a moment was there to be lost now. The treasure must be removed. Anattempt was first made to lift the chest bodily. This was found to beimpossible owing to the decayed condition of the wood. The grain-sacks, therefore, which formed a portion of the Gaucho's mule-trappings, wererequisitioned, and in a very short time every gold nugget was carried outand placed in safety in a corner of our principal room in thehunting-box. 

The beasts were placed for safety in another room of the ruin, a trenchbeing dug before the door, which could be commanded from one of ourwindows. 

'How many horsemen did you count?' said Moncrieff to me. 

'As near as I could judge, ' I replied, 'there must be fifty. '

'Yes, there may be a swarm more. One of you boys must ride to-night to the_estancia_ and get assistance. Who volunteers?'

'I do, ' said Dugald at once. 

'Then it will be well to start without delay before we are surrounded. See, it is already dusk, and we may expect our Indian friends at anymoment. Mount, lad, and Heaven preserve you!'

Dugald hardly waited to say another word. He saw to the revolvers in hissaddle-bows, slung his rifle over his shoulder, sprang to the saddle, andhad disappeared like a flash. 

And now we had but to wait the turn of events--turn how they might. 

 * * * * *

Dugald told us afterwards that during that memorable ride to the_estancia_ he felt as if the beast beneath him was a winged horse insteadof his own old-fashioned and affectionate mule. Perhaps it was fear thatlent him such speed, and possibly it was fear transmitted even from hisrider. Times without number since we had come out to our new home in theSilver West my brother had shown what sort of stuff he was made of, but aride like this is trying to a heart like oak or nerves like steel, and ayoung man must be destitute of soul itself not to feel fear on such anoccasion. Besides, the very fact of flying from unseen foes adds to theterror. 

Down through the cactus jungle he went, galloping in and out and out andin, himself hardly knowing the road, trusting everything to the sagacityof the wondrous mule. Oftentimes when returning from a day on the hills, tired and weary, he had thought the way through this strange greenbushland interminably long; but now, fleetly though he was speeding on, hethought it would never, never end, that he would never, never come outinto the open braeland, and see, miles away beneath him, the twinklinglights of the _estancia_. Many an anxious glance, too, did he cast aroundhim or into the gloomiest shades of the jungle, more than once imagininghe saw dusky figures therein with long spears ready to launch at him. 

He is out at last, however; but the path is now loose and rough and stony. After riding for some hundred yards he has to cut across at right anglesto the jungle he has left. To his horror, a dozen armed Indians at thatvery moment leave the cactus, and with levelled spears and wild shoutsdash onward to intercept him. This is indeed a ride for life, for to hisimmediate left is a precipice full twenty feet in height. He must gain theend of this before he can put even a yard of actual distance betwixthimself and the savages who are thirsting for his life. More than once hehas half made up his mind to dare the leap, but the venture is far toogreat. 

Nearer and nearer sweep the Indians. Dugald is close at the turning-pointnow, but he sees the foremost savage getting the deadly lasso ready. Hemust shoot, though he has to slacken speed slightly to take better aim. 

He fires. Down roll horse and man, and Dugald is saved. 

They have heard that rifle-shot far away on the _estancia_. Quick eyes areturned towards the braelands, and, dusk though it is, they notice thatsomething more than usual is up. Five minutes afterwards half a dozenarmed horsemen thunder out to meet Dugald. They hear his story, and allreturn to alarm the colony and put the whole place in a state of defence. Then under the guidance of Dugald they turn back once more--a party oftwenty strong now--towards the hills, just as the moon, which is almostfull, is rising and shining through between the solemn steeple-likepoplars. 

To avoid the jungle, and a probable ambuscade, they have to make a long_détour_, but they reach the ruin at last, to find all safe and sound. TheIndians know that for a time their game is played, and they have lost; andthey disappeared as quickly and mysteriously as they came leaving not atrace behind. 

The gold is now loaded on the backs of the mules, and the journey homecommenced. 

As they ride down through the giant cacti two huge vultures rise withflapping wings and heavy bodies at no great distance. It was into thatvery thicket that Moncrieff rode this morning. It was there he fired hisrevolver. The vultures had been disturbed at a feast--nothing more. 

Great was the rejoicing at the safe return of Moncrieff and his party fromthe hills. Our poor aunt had been troubled, indeed, but Aileen wasfrantic, and threw herself into her husband's arms when she saw him inquite a passion of hysterical joy. 

Now although there was but little if any danger of an attack to-night onthe _estancias_, no one thought of retiring to bed. There was much to bedone by way of preparation, for we were determined not to lose a horse, nor even a sheep, if we could help it. So we arranged a code of signals bymeans of rifle-shots, and spent the whole of the hours that intervenedbetwixt the time of our return and sunrise in riding round the farms andvisiting even distant _puestos_. 

My brothers and I and Moncrieff lay down when day broke to snatch a fewhours of much-needed rest. 

It was well on in the forenoon when I went over to Moncrieff's mansion. Ihad already been told that strangers had arrived from distant _estancias_bringing evil tidings. The poor men whom I found in the drawing-room withMoncrieff had indeed brought dreadful news. They had escaped from theirburned _estancias_ after seeing their people massacred by savages beforetheir eyes. They had seen others on the road who had suffered even worse, and did not know what to do or where to fly. Many had been hunted into thebush and killed there. Forts had been attacked further south, and even thesoldiers of the republic in some instances had been defeated and scatteredover the country. 

The year, indeed, was one that will be long remembered by the citizens ofthe Argentine Republic. Happily things have now changed for the better, and the Indians have been driven back south of the Rio Negro, which willfor ever form a boundary which they must not cross on pain of death. 

More fugitives dropped in that day, and all had pitiful, heartrendingstories to tell. 

Moncrieff made every one welcome, and so did we all, trying our very bestto soothe the grief and anguish they felt for those dear ones they wouldnever see more on earth. 

And now hardly a day passed that did not bring news of some kind of thedoings of the Indians. Success had rendered them bold, while it appearedto have cowed for a time the Government of this noble republic, or, atall events, had confused and paralyzed all its action. Forts were overcomealmost without resistance. Indeed, some of them were destitute of themeans of resisting, the men having no proper supply of ammunition. _Estancia_ after _estancia_ on the frontier had been raided and burned, with the usual shocking barbarities that make one shudder even to thinkof. 

It was but little likely that our small but wealthy colony would escape, for the fact that we were now possessed of the long-buried treasure--manythousands of pounds in value--must have spread like wild-fire. 

One morning Moncrieff and I started early, and rode to a distant_estancia_, which we were told had been attacked and utterly destroyed, not a creature being left alive about the place with the exception of thecattle and horses, which the Indians had captured. We had known thisfamily. They had often attended Moncrieff's happy little evening parties, and the children had played in our garden and rowed with us in thegondola. 

Heaven forbid I should attempt to draw a graphic picture of all we saw!Let it be sufficient to say that the rumours which had reached us were alltoo true, and that Moncrieff and I saw sights which will haunt us bothuntil our dying day. 

The silence all round the _estancia_ when we rode up was eloquent, terribly eloquent. The buildings were blackened ruins, and it was painfulto notice the half-scorched trailing flowers, many still in bloom, clinging around the wrecked and charred verandah. But everywhere about, inthe out-buildings, on the lawn, in the garden itself, were the remains ofthe poor creatures who had suffered. 

 'Alas! for love of this were all, And none beyond, O earth!'

Moncrieff spoke but little all the way back. While standing near theverandah I had seen him move his hand to his eyes and impatiently brushaway a tear, but after that his face became firm and set, and for many aday after this I never saw him smile. 

 * * * * *

At this period of our strange family story I lay down my pen and leanwearily back in my chair. It is not that I am tired of writing. Oh, no!Evening after evening for many and many a long week I have repaired uphere to my turret chamber--my beautiful study in our Castle of Coila--andwith my faithful hound by my feet I have bent over my sheets andtranscribed as faithfully as I could events as I remember them. But it isthe very multiplicity of these events as I near the end of my story thatcauses me to pause and think. 

Ah! here comes aunt, gliding into my room, pausing for a moment, curtainin hand, half apologetically, as she did on that evening described in ourfirst chapter. 

'No, auntie, you do not disturb me. Far from it. I was longing for yourcompany. '

She is by my side now, and looking down at my manuscript. 

'Yes, ' she says many times--nodding assent to every sentence, and everturning back the pages for reference--'yes, and now you come near the lastevents of this story of the M'Crimmans of Coila. Come out to the castleroof, and breathe the evening air, and I will talk. '

We sit there nearly an hour. Aunt's memory is better even than mine, and Ilisten to her without ever once opening my lips. Then I lead her back tothe tower, and point smilingly to the harp. 

She has gone at last, and I resume my story. 

 * * * * *

We, Moncrieff and I, saw no signs of Indians during our long ride thatday. We had gone on this journey with our lives in our hands. The verydaringness and dash of it was probably our salvation. The enemy wereabout--they might be here, there, anywhere. Every bush might conceal afoe, but they certainly made no appearance. 

All was the same apparently about our _estancias_; _but_ I wondered alittle that my brothers had not come out to meet me as usual, and thatfaithful, though plain-faced Yambo looked at me strangely, and I thoughtpityingly, as he took my mule to lead away to the compound. 

I went straight away through our gardens, and entered the drawing-room bythe verandah window. 

I paused a moment, holding the casement in my hand. Coming straight out ofthe glare of the evening sunset, the room appeared somewhat dark, but Inoticed Dugald sitting at the table with his face bent down over his hand, and Donald lying on the couch. 

'Dugald!'

He started up and ran towards me, seizing and wringing my hand. 

'Oh, Murdoch, ' he cried, 'our poor father!'

'You have had a letter--he is ill?'

'He is ill. '

'Dugald, ' I cried, 'tell me all! Dugald--is--father--dead?'

No reply. 

I staggered towards the table, and dropped limp and stricken and helplessinto a chair. 

I think I must have been ill for many, many days after this sad news. Ihave little recollection of the events of the next week--I was engrossed, engulfed in the one great sorrow. The unexpected death of so well-beloveda father in the meridian of life was a terrible blow to us all, but moreso to me, with all I had on my mind. 

'And so, and so, ' I thought, as I began to recover, 'there is an end to mybright dreams of future happiness--_the_ dream of all my dreams, to havefather out here among us in our new home in the Silver West, and all thedark portions of the past forgotten. Heaven give me strength to bear it!'

I had spoken the last words aloud, for a voice at my elbow said--

'Amen! Poor boy! Amen!'

I turned, and--_there stood Townley_. 

'You wonder to see me here, ' he said, as he took my hand. 'Nay, but nobodyshould ever wonder at anything I do. I am erratic. I did not come overbefore, because I did not wish to influence your mind. You have been ill, but--I'm glad to see you weeping. '

I did really sob and cry then as if my very heart would burst and break. 

 * * * * *

I was well enough in a day or two to hear the rest of the news. Townley, who was very wise, had hesitated to tell me everything at once. 

But if anything could be called joyful news now surely this was--motherand Flora were at Villa Mercedes, and would be here in a day or two. Townley had come on before, even at considerable personal risk, to breakthe news to us, and prepare us all. Mother and sister were waiting anescort, not got up specially for them certainly, but that would see totheir safety. It consisted of a large party of officers and men who werepassing on to the frontiers to repel, or try to repel, the Indianinvasion. 

 * * * * *

We all went to meet mother and sister at the far-off cross roads. Therewas quite a large and very well-armed party of us, and we encamped forthree days near an _estancia_ to await their coming. 

It was on the morning of the fourth day that one of the Gauchos reportedan immense cloud of dust far away eastwards on the Mendoza road. 

'They might be Indians, ' he added. 

'Perhaps, ' said Moncrieff, 'but we will risk it. '

So camp was struck and off we rode, my brothers and I forming thevanguard, Moncrieff and Archie bringing up the rear. How my heart beatwith emotion when the first horsemen of the advancing party became visiblethrough the cloud of dust, and I saw they were soldiers!

On we rode now at the gallop. 

Yes, mother was there, and sister, and they were well. Our meeting may bebetter imagined than described. 

 * * * * *

Both mother and Flora were established at the _estancia_, and so days andweeks flew by, and I was pleased to see them smile, though mother lookedsad, so sad, yet so beautiful, just as she had ever looked to me. 

Dugald was the first to recover anything approaching to a chastenedhappiness. He had his darling sister with him. He was never tired takingher out and showing her all the outs-and-ins and workings of our newhome. 

It appeared to give him the chiefest delight, however, to see her in thegondola. 

I remember him saying one evening:

'Dear Flora! What a time it seems to look back since we parted in oldEdina. But through all these long years I have worked for you and thoughtabout you, and strange, I have always pictured you just as you are now, sitting under the gondola awnings, looking piquant and pretty, and on justsuch a lovely evening as this. But I didn't think you would be so big, Flora. '

'Dear stupid Dugald!' replied Flora, blushing slightly because Archie'seyes were bent on her in admiration, respectful but unconcealable. 'Didyou think I would always remain a child?'

'You'll always be a child to me, Flo, ' said Dugald. 

But where had the Indians gone?

Had our bold troops beaten them back? or was the cloud still floating overthe _estancia_, and floating only to burst?

CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE ATTACK ON THE ESTANCIA. 

Shortly after we had all settled down at the _estancia_, and things beganto resume their wonted appearance, albeit we lived in a state of constantpreparation to repel attack, an interview took place one day inMoncrieff's drawing-room, at which, though I was not present, I now knowall that happened. 

To one remark of Townley's my mother replied as follows:

'No, Mr. Townley, I think with you. I feel even more firmly, I believe, than you do on the subject, for you speak with, pardon me, some littledoubt or hesitancy. Our boy's conscience must not be tampered with, notfor all the estates in the world. Much though I love Coila, from whichvillainy may have banished us, let it remain for ever in the possession ofthe M'Rae sooner than even hint to Murdoch that an oath, however imposed, is not binding. '

'Yes, ' said Townley, 'you are right, Mrs. M'Crimman; but the presentpossessor of Coila, the younger Le Roi, or M'Rae, as he was called beforehis father's death, has what he is pleased to call broader views on thesubject than we have. '

'Mr. Townley, the M'Rae is welcome to retain his broad views, and we willstick to the simple faith of our forefathers. The M'Rae is of Frencheducation. '

'Yes, and at our meeting, though he behaved like a perfectgentleman--indeed, he is a gentleman--'

'True, in spite of the feud I cannot forget that the M'Raes are distantrelatives of the M'Crimmans. He must, therefore, be a gentleman. '

'"My dear sir, " he said to me, "I cannot conceive of suchfolly"--superstitious folly, he called it--"as that which your youngfriend Murdoch M'Crimman is guilty of. Let him come to me and say boldlythat the ring found in the box and in the vault was on the finger ofDuncan--villain he is, at all events--on the night he threatened to shoothim, and I will give up all claim to the estates of Coila; but till hedoes so, or until you bring me other proof, I must be excused forremaining where I am. "'

'Then let him, ' said my mother quietly. 

'Nay, but, ' said Townley, 'I do not _mean_ to let him. It has become theone dream of my existence to see justice and right done to my dear oldpupil Murdoch, and I think I begin to see land. '

'Yes?'

'I believe I do. I waited and watched untiringly. Good Gilmore, who stilllives in Coila, watched for me too. I knew one thing was certain--namely, that the ex-poacher Duncan M'Rae would turn up again at the castle. Hedid. He went to beg money from the M'Rae. The M'Rae is a man of the world;he saw that this visit of Duncan's was but the beginning of a never-endingpersecution. He refused Duncan's request point-blank. Then the man changedflank and breathed dark threatenings. The M'Rae, he hinted, had better notmake him (Duncan) his enemy. He (M'Rae) was obliged to him for the houseand position he occupied, but the same hand that _did_ could _undo_. Atthis juncture the M'Rae had simply rung the bell, and the ex-poacher hadto retire foiled, but threatening still. It was on that same day Iconfronted him and told him all I knew. Then I showed him the spuriousring, which, as I placed it on my finger, even he could not tell from theoriginal. Even this did not overawe him, but when I ventured a guess thatthis very ring had belonged to a dead man, and pretended I knew more thanI did, he turned pale. He was silent for a time--thinking, I suppose. Thenhe put a question which staggered me with its very coolness, and, clergyman though I am, I felt inclined at that moment to throttle the manwhere he stood. Would we pay him handsomely for turning king's evidence onhimself and confessing the whole was a conspiracy, and would we save himfrom the legal penalty of the confessed crime?

'I assure you, Mrs. M'Crimman, that till then I had leaned towards thebelief that, scoundrel though this Duncan be, some little spark ofhumanity remained in his nature, and that he might be inclined to dojustice for justice's sake. I dare say he read my answer in my eyes, andhe judged too that for the time being I was powerless to act. Could hehave killed me then, I know he would have done so. Once more he was silentfor a time. He did not dare to repeat his first question, but he putanother, "Have you any charge to make against me about _anything_?" Heplaced a terribly-meaning emphasis on that word "anything. " I looked athim. I was wondering whether he really had had anything to do with thedeath of old Mawsie, and if the ring of which I had the facsimile on myfinger had in reality belonged to a murdered man. Seeing me hesitate, heplayed a bold card; it was, I suppose, suggested to him by the appearanceat that moment of the village policeman walking calmly past the window ofthe little inn where we sat. He knocked, and beckoned to him, while I satwondering and thinking that verily the man before me was cleverer by farthan I. On the entrance of the policeman--"This gentleman, policeman, " hesaid, quietly and slowly, "makes or insinuates charges against me inprivate which now in your presence I dare him to repeat. " Then turning tome--"The ball is with you, " he said. And what could I reply? Nothing. I dobelieve that at that very moment even the worthy village policemannoticed and pitied my position, for he turned to Duncan, and, nodding, made this remark in Gaelic: "I know Mr. Townley as a gentleman, and I knowyou, Duncan M'Rae, to be something very different. If Mr. Townley makes nocharge against you it is no doubt because he is not prepared with proofs. But, Duncan, boy, if you like to remain in the glen for a few days, I'mnot sure there isn't a charge or two I could rub up against you myself. "

'I left the room with the policeman. Now I knew that, although foiled, Duncan did not consider himself beaten. I had him watched therefore, andfollowed by a detective. I wanted to find out his next move. It wasprecisely what I thought it would be. He had heard of our poor chiefM'Crimman's death, remember. Well, a day or two after our conversation inthe little inn at Coila, Duncan presented himself at the M'Rae'sadvocate's office and so pleaded his case--so begged and partially hintedat disclosures and confessions--that this solicitor, not possessed of theextraordinary pride and independence of the M'Rae--'

'A pride and independence, Mr. Townley, ' said my aunt, 'which the M'Raestake from their relatedness to our family. '

'That is true, ' said my mother. 

'Well, I was going to say, ' continued Townley, 'that Duncan so farovercame the advocate that this gentleman thought it would be for hisclient's interest to accede in part to his demands, or rather to one ofthem--viz. , to pay him a sum of money to leave the country for ever. Butthis money was not to be paid until he had taken his passage and was aboutto sail for some--any--country, not nearer than the United States ofAmerica, Mr. Moir's--the advocate's--clerk was to see him on board ship, and see him sail. '

'And did he sail?' said my aunt, as Townley paused and looked at her. 

'Yes, in a passenger ship, for Buenos Ayres. '

'I see it all now, ' said my aunt. 'He thinks that no charge can be madeagainst him there for conspiracy or crime committed at home. '

'Yes, and he thinks still further: he thinks that he will be moresuccessful with dear Murdoch than he was with either the M'Rae ormyself. '

There was a few minutes' pause, my aunt being the first to break thesilence. 

'What a depth of well-schemed villainy!' was the remark she made. 

Moncrieff had listened to all the conversation without once putting in aword. Now all he said was--

'Dinna forget, Miss M'Crimman, the words o' the immortal Bobbie Burns:

 "The best laid schemes o' mice and men Gang aft agley, And leave us naught but grief and pain For promised joy. "'

 * * * * *

To the fear and fever consequent upon the depredations committed by theIndians there succeeded a calmness and lull which the canny Moncrieffthought almost unnatural, considering all that had gone before. He tookpains to find out whether, as had been currently reported, our Argentinetroops had been victorious all along the frontier line. He found that thereport, like many others, had been grossly exaggerated. If a foe retires, a foe is beaten by the army which _sees_ that foe retire. This seems toooften to be the logic of the war-path. In the present instance, however, the Indians belonged to races that lived a nomad life. They wereconstantly advancing and retreating. When they chose to advance in thisparticular year there was not a sufficient number of cavalry to opposethem, nor were the soldiers well mounted. The savages knew precisely onwhat part of the stage to enter, and they did not think it incumbent onthem to previously warn our Argentine troops. Indeed, they, like sensiblesavages, rather avoided a conflict than courted one. It was not conflictbut cattle they were after principally; then if at any time strategydirected retreat, why, they simply turned their horses' heads to thedesert, the pampas, or mountain wilds, and the troops for a time had seenthe last of them. 

I think Moncrieff would have made a capital general, for fancied securitynever sent him to sleep. What had happened once might happen again, hethought, and his _estancias_ were big prizes for Indians to try for, especially as there was plenty to gain by success, and little to lose bydefeat. 

I have said that our Coila Villa was some distance from the fortifiedMoncrieff houses. It was now connected with the general rampart andditches. It was part and parcel of the whole system of fortification; somy brothers and I might rest assured it would be defended, if ever therewas any occasion. 

'It seems hard, ' said Townley to Moncrieff one day, 'that you should beput to so much trouble and expense. Why does not the Government protectits settlers?'

'The Government will in course of time, ' replied Moncrieff. 'At present, as we lie pretty low down in the western map, we are looked upon as richpioneers, and left to protect ourselves. '

They were riding then round the _estancias_, visiting outlying _puestos_. 

'You have your rockets and red-lights for night signals, and your flagsfor day use?' Moncrieff was saying to each _puestero_ or shepherd. 

'We have, ' was the invariable reply. 

'Well, if the Indians are sighted, signal at once, pointing the fan intheir direction, then proceed to drive the flocks towards the _estancias_. There, ' continued Moncrieff, 'there is plenty of corraling room, and wecan concentrate a fire that will, I believe, effectually hold back theseraiding thieves. '

One day there came a report that a fort had been carried by a cloud ofIndians. 

This was in the forenoon. Towards evening some Gauchos came in from adistant _estancia_. They brought the old ugly story of conflagration andmurder, to which Moncrieff and his Welsh partner had long since becomeused. 

But now the cloud was about to burst over our _estancia_. We all ate ourmeals together at the present awful crisis, just, I think, to be companyto each other, and to talk and keep up each other's heart. 

But to-day Moncrieff had ordered an early dinner, and this was ominous. Hardly any one spoke much during the meal. A heaviness was on every heart, and if any one of us made an effort to smile and look cheerful, others sawthat this was only assumed, and scarcely responded. 

Perhaps old Jenny spoke more than all of us put together. And her remarksat times made us laugh, gloomy though the situation was. 

'They reeving Philistines are coming again, are they? Well, laddie, if theworst should happen I'll just treat them to a drap parridge. '

'What, mither?'

'A drap parridge, laddie. It was boiled maize I poured ower the shoulderso' them in the caravan. But oatmeal is better, weel scalded. Na, na, naething beats a drap parridge. Bombazo, ' she said presently, 'you've beenunco quiet and douce for days back, I hope you'll no show the whitefeather this time and bury yoursel' in the moold like a rabbit. '

Poor Bombazo winced, and really, judging from his appearance, he had beenill at ease for weeks back. There was no singing now, and the guitar layunheeded in its case. 

'Do not fear for me, lady. I am burning already to see the foe. '

'Weel, Bombazo man, ye dinna look vera warlike. You're unco white aboutthe gills already, but wae worth the rigging o' you if ye dinna fecht. Myarm is strong to wield the auld ginghamrella yet. '

'Hush, mither, hush!' said Moncrieff. 

Immediately after dinner Moncrieff beckoned to Townley, and the two leftthe room and the house together. 

'You think the Indians will come to-night?' said Townley, after a time. 

'I know they will, and in force too. '

'Well, I feel like an idler. You, General Moncrieff, have not appointed meany station. '

Moncrieff smiled. 

'I am now going to do so, ' he said, 'and it is probably the most importantposition and trust on the _estancia_. '

They walked up as far as the great canal while they conversed. 

Arrived there, Moncrieff pointed to what looked like a bundle ofbrushwood. 

'You see those branches?'

'Yes. '

'And you see that wooden lock or huge doorway?'

'I do. '

'Well, my friend, the brushwood conceals a sentry-box. It overlooks thewhole _estancia_. It conceals something else, a small barrel of gunpowder, which you are to hang to the hook yonder on the wooden lock, and explodethe moment you have the signal. '

'And the signal will be?'

'A huge rocket sent up from either my _estancia_ house or Coila Villa. There may be several, but you must act when you see the first. There isfuse enough to the bomb to give you time to escape, and the bomb is bigenough to burst the lock and flood the whole ditch system in and aroundthe _estancia_. You are to run as soon as you fire. Further on you willfind another brushwood place of concealment. Hide there. Heaven forbid Ishould endanger a hair of your head! Now you know your station!'

'I do, ' said Townley, 'and thankful I am to think I can be of service inthis great emergency. '

Before dark all the most valuable portion of our stock was safelycorraled, and silence, broken only by the occasional lowing of the cattleor the usual night sounds of farm life, reigned around and over the_estancia_. 

Later on Townley stole quietly out, and betook himself to his station. 

Still later on Yambo rode in and right up to the verandah of our chiefsitting-room. The horse he bestrode was drenched in sweat. He had seenIndians in force; they were even now advancing. He had ridden for hislife. 

The order 'Every man to his quarters!' was now given. 

The night which was to be so terrible and so memorable in the annals ofMoncrieff's _estancia_ had begun. It was very still, and at present verydark. But by and by the moon would rise. 

'A rocket, sir!' we heard Archie shout from his post as sentinel; 'arocket from the south-western _puesto_. '

We waited, listening, starting almost at every sound. At length in thedistance we could plainly hear the sound of horses' hoofs on the road, andbefore many minutes the first _puestero_ rode to the gate and wasadmitted. The men from the other _puestos_ were not far behind; and, allbeing safe inside, the gates were fastened and fortified by triple bars ofwood. 

All along the ditches, and out for many yards, was spread such a thornyspikework of pointed wood as to defy the approach of the cleverest Indianfor hours at least. 

While we waited I found time to run round to the drawing-room. There wasno sign of fear on any face there, with the exception perhaps of that ofpoor Irish Aileen. And I could well believe her when she told me it wasnot for herself she cared, but for her 'winsome man. '

I was talking to them as cheerfully as I could, when I heard the sound ofa rifle, and, waving them good-bye, I rushed off to my station. 

Slowly the moon rose, and before many minutes the whole _estancia_ wasflooded with its light. And how we thanked Heaven for that light onlythose who have been situated as we were now can fully understand. 

Up it sailed between the dark whispering poplars. Never had these treesseemed to me more stately, more noble. Towering up into the starry sky, they seemed like sentinels set to guard and defend us, while their taperfingers, piercing heavenwards, carried our thoughts to One who neverdeserts those who call on Him in faith in their hour of need. 

The moon rose higher and higher, and its light--for it was a fullmoon--got still more silvery as it mounted towards its zenith. But as yetthere was no sign that a foe as remorseless and implacable as the tiger ofthe jungle was abroad on the plains. 

A huge fire had been erected behind the mansion, and about ten o'clock thefemale servants came round our lines with food, and huge bowls of steaming_maté_. 

Almost immediately after we were at our quarters again. 

I was stationed near our own villa. Leaning over a parapet, I could nothelp, as I gazed around me, being struck with the exceeding beauty of thenight. Not far off the lake shone in the moon's rays like a silver mirror, but over the distant hills and among the trees and hedges was spread athin blue gauzy mist that toned and softened the whole landscape. 

As I gazed, and was falling into a reverie, a puff of white smoke and aflash not fifty yards away, and the ping of a bullet close to my ear, warned me that the attack had commenced. 

There had been no living thing visible just before then, but the field onone side of our villa was now one moving mass of armed Indians, rushing ontowards the ditch and breastwork. 

At the same moment all along our lines ran the rattle of rifle-firing. That savage crowd, kept at bay by the spikework, made a target for our menthat could hardly be missed. The war-cry, which they had expected tochange in less than a minute to the savage shout of victory, was minglednow with groans and yells of anger and pain. 

But this, after all, was not the main attack. From a red signal-light faralong the lines I soon discovered that Moncrieff was concentrating hisstrength there, and I hastened in that direction with five of my best men. The Indians were under the charge of a _cacique_ on horseback, whoseshrill voice sounded high over the din of battle and shrieks of thewounded. He literally hurled his men like seas against the gates andramparts here. 

But all in vain. Our fellows stood; and the _cacique_ at length withdrewhis men, firing a volley or two as they disappeared behind the hedges. 

There was comparative silence for a space now. It was soon broken, however, by the thunder of Indian cavalry. The savages were going tochange their tactics. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

THE LAST ASSAULT. 

Never before, perhaps, in all the annals of Indian warfare had a moredetermined attack been made upon a settler's _estancia_. The _cacique_ or_caciques_ who led the enemy seemed determined to purchase victory at anycost or hazard. Nor did the principal _cacique_ hesitate to expose himselfto danger. During the whole of the first onset he moved about on horsebackclose in the rear of his men, and appeared to bear a charmed life. Thebullets must have been whizzing past him as thick as flies. Moncrieffhimself tried more than once to bring him down, but all in vain. 

During the final assault he was equally conspicuous; he was here, there, and everywhere, and his voice and appearance, even for a moment, amongthem never failed to cause his men to redouble their efforts. 

It was not, however, until far on into the night that this last and awfulcharge was made. 

The savage foe advanced with a wild shout all along the line of rampartthat connected the Moncrieff main _estancia_ with our villa. This wasreally our weakest part. 

[Illustration: The Indians advanced with a Wild Shout]

The assault was made on horseback. We heard them coming thundering on sometime before we saw them and could fire. They seemed mad, furious; theirtall feather-bedecked spears were waved high in air; they sat like hugebaboons on their high saddles, and their very horses had been imbued withthe recklessness of their riders, and came on bounding and flying over ourfrail field of spikes. It was to be all spear work till they came to closequarters; then they would use their deadly knives. 

Hardly had the first sound of the horses' hoofs reached our ears ere one, two, three rockets left Coila Villa; and scarcely had they exploded in theair and cast their golden showers of sparks abroad, before the roar of anexplosion was heard high up on the braeland that shook the houses to theirvery foundations--and then--there is the awful rush of foaming, seethingwater. 

Nothing could withstand that unexpected flood; men and horses were floatedand washed away, struggling and helpless, before it. 

Just at the time when the last assault was nearly at its grim close I feltmy arm pulled, and looking quickly round found Yambo at my side. He stillclutched me by the arm, but he was waving his blood-stained sword in thedirection of Moncrieff's house, and I could see by the motions of hismouth and face he wished me to come with him. 

Something had occurred, something dreadful surely, and despite theexcitement of battle a momentary cold wave of fear seemed to rush over myframe. 

Sandie Donaldson was near me. This bold big fellow had been everywhereconspicuous to-night for his bravery. He had fought all through withextraordinary intrepidity. 

Wherever I had glanced that night I had seen Sandie, the moon shining downon the white shirt and trousers he wore, and which made him altogether soconspicuous a figure, as he took aim with rifle or revolver, or dashedinto a crowd of spear-armed Indians, his claymore hardly visible, soswiftly was it moved to and fro. I grasped his shoulder, pointed in thedirection indicated by Yambo, and on we flew. 

As soon as we had rounded the wing of an outbuilding and reachedMoncrieff's terraced lawn, the din of the fight we had just left becamemore indistinct, but we now heard sounds that, while they thrilled us withterror and anger, made us rush on across the grass with the speed of thepanther. 

They were the voices of shrieking women, the crashing of glass andfurniture, and the savage and exultant yell of the Indians. 

Looking back now to this episode of the night, I can hardly realize thatso many terrible events could have occurred in so brief a time, for, fromthe moment we charged up across the lawn not six minutes could haveelapsed ere all was over. It is like a dream, but a dream every turn ofwhich has been burned into my memory, to remain while life shall last. Yonder is a tall _cacique_ hurrying out into the bright moonlight fromunder the verandah. He bears in his arms the inanimate form of my dearsister Flora. Is it really _I_ myself who rush up to meet him? Have _I_fired that shot that causes the savage to reel and fall? Is it I who liftpoor Flora and lay her in the shade of a mimosa-tree? It must be I, yetevery action seems governed by instinct; I am for the time being a strangepsychological study. It is as if my soul had left the body, but stillcommanded it, standing aside, ruling every motion, directing every blowfrom first to last, and being implicitly obeyed by the other _ego_, the_ego_-incorporate. There is a crowd, nay, a cloud even it seems, aroundme; but see, I have cut my way through them at last: they have fallenbefore me, fallen at my side--fallen or fled. I step over bodies, I enterthe room, I stumble over other bodies. Now a light is struck and a lamp islit, and standing beside the table, calm, but very pale, I see my auntdimly through the smoke. My mother is near her--my own brave mother. Bothhave revolvers in their hands; and I know now why bodies are stretched onthe floor. One glance shows me Aileen, lying like a dead thing in achair, and beside her, smoothing her brow, chafing her hands, Moncrieff'smarvellous mother. 

But in this life the humorous is ever mixed up with the tragic or sad, forlo! as I hurry away to join the fight that is still going on near theverandah I almost stumble across something else. Not a body this time--notquite--only Bombazo's ankles sticking out from under the sofa. I couldswear to those striped silk socks anywhere, and the boots are the boots ofBombazo. I administer a kick to those shins, and they speedily disappear. I am out on the moonlit lawn now, and what do I see? First, good braveYambo, down on one knee, being borne backwards, fierce hands at histhroat, a short knife at his chest. The would-be assassin falls; Yamborises intact, and together we rush on further down to where, on a terrace, Donaldson has just been overpowered. But see, a new combatant has comeupon the scene; several revolver shots are fired in quick succession. Atall dark figure in semi-clerical garb is cutting right and left with agood broadsword. And now--why, now it is all over, and Townley standsbeside us panting. 

Well might he pant--he had done brave work. But he had come all too lateto save Sandie. He lies there quietly enough on the grass. His shirt isstained with blood, and it is his own blood this time. 

Townley bends over and quietly feels his arm. No pulse there. Then hebreathes a half audible prayer and reverently closes the eyes. 

I am hurrying back now to the room with Flora. 

'All is safe, mother, now. Flora is safe. See, she is smiling: she knowsus all. Oh, Heaven be praised, she is safe!'

We leave Townley there, and hurry back to the ramparts. 

The stillness alone would have told us that the fight was finished and thevictory won. 

A few minutes after this, standing high up on the rampart there, Moncrieff is mustering his people. One name after another is called. Alas!there are many who do not answer, many who will never answer more, for ourvictory has been dearly bought. 

Four of our Scottish settlers were found dead in the trench; over a dozenGauchos had been killed. Moncrieff and his partner were both wounded, though neither severely. Archie and Dugald were also badly cut, andanswered but faintly and feebly to the roll-call. Sandie we know is dead, and Bombazo is--under the sofa. So I thought; but listen. 

'Captain Rodrigo de Bombazo!'

'Here, general, here, ' says a bold voice close behind me, and Bombazohimself presses further to the front. 

I can hardly believe my eyes and ears. Could those have been Bombazo'sboots? Had I really kicked the shins of Bombazo? Surely the events of thenight had turned my brain. Bombazo's boots indeed! Bombazo skulk and hidebeneath a sofa! Impossible. Look at him now. His hair is dishevelled;there is blood on his brow. He is dressed only in shirt and trousers, andthese are marked with blood; so is his right arm, which is bared over theelbow, and the sword he carries in his hand. Bold Bombazo! How I havewronged him! But the silk striped socks? No; I cannot get over that. 

 * * * * *

Barely a month before the events just narrated took place at the_estancias_ of Moncrieff there landed from a sailing ship at the port ofBuenos Ayres a man whose age might have been represented by any number ofyears 'twixt thirty and forty. There were grey hairs on his temples, butthese count for nothing in a man whose life has been a struggle withFortune and Fate. The individual in question, whom his shipmates calledDalston, was tall and tough and wiry. He had shown what he was and what hecould do in less than a week from the time of his joining. At first hehad been a passenger, and had lived away aft somewhere, no one could tellexactly where, for he did not dine in the saloon with the otherpassengers, and he looked above messing with the stewards. As the mate andhe were much together it was supposed that Dalston made use of the firstofficer's cabin. The ship had encountered dirty weather from the veryoutset; head winds and choppy seas all the way down Channel, so that shewas still 'kicking about off the coast'--this is how the seamen phrasedit--when she ought to have been crossing the Bay or stretching away outinto the broad Atlantic. She fared worse by far when she reached the Bay, having met with a gale of wind that blew most of her cloth to ribbons, carried away her bowsprit, and made hurdles of her bulwarks both forwardand amidships. Worse than all, two men were blown from aloft while tryingto reef a sail during a squall of more than hurricane violence. I sayblown from aloft, and I say so advisedly, for the squall came on afterthey had gone up, a squall that even the men on deck could not standagainst, a squall that levelled the very waves, and made the sea away toleeward--no one could see to windward--look like boiling milk. 

The storm began to go down immediately after the squall, and next day theweather was fine enough to make sail, and mend sail. But the ship wasshort-handed, for the skipper had made no provision against loss byaccident. He was glad then when the mate informed him that the 'gentleman'Dalston was as good as any two men on board. 

'Send him to me, ' said the skipper. 

'Good morning. Ahem, I hear, sir, you would be willing to assist in theworking of the ship. May I ask on what terms?'

'Certainly, ' said Dalston. 'I'm going out to the Argentine, to buy a bitof land; well, naturally, money is some object to me. You see?'

'I understand. '

'Well, my terms are the return of my passage money and civility. '

'Agreed; but why do you mention civility?'

'Because I've heard you using rather rough language to your men. Now, ifyou forgot yourself so far as to call me a bad name I'd----'

He paused, and there was a look in his eyes the captain hardly relished. 

'Well! What would you do?'

'Why, I'd--retire to my cabin. '

'All right then, I think we understand each other. '

So Dalston was installed, and now dined forward. He became a favouritewith his messmates. No one could tell a more thrilling and adventuresomeyarn than Dalston, no one could sing a better song than himself or joinmore heartily in the chorus when another sang, and no one could work morecheerily on deck, or fly more quickly to tack a sheet. 

Smyth had been the big man in the forecastle before Dalston's day. ButSmyth was eclipsed now, and I dare say did not like his rival. One day, near the quarter-deck, Smyth called Dalston an ugly name. Dalston's answerwas a blow which sent the fellow reeling to leeward, where he laystunned. 

'Have you killed him, Dalston?' said the captain. 

'Not quite, sir; but I could have. '

'Well, Dalston, you are working for two men now; don't let us lose anotherhand, else you'll have to work for three. '

Dalston laughed. 

Smyth gathered himself up and slunk away, but his look was one Dalstonwould have cause to remember. 

This good ship--Sevenoaks she was called, after the captain's wife'sbirthplace--had a long and a rough passage all along. The owners wereDutchmen, so it did not matter a very great deal. There was plenty oftime, and the ship was worked on the cheap. Perhaps the wonder is shekept afloat at all, for at one period of the voyage she leaked so badlythat the crew had to pump three hours out of every watch. Then she crosseda bank on the South American coast, and the men said she had sucked in abit of seaweed, for she did not leak much after this. 

The longest voyage has an end, however, and when the Sevenoaks arrived atBuenos Ayres, Dalston bade his messmates adieu, had his passage money dulyreturned, and went on shore, happy because he had many more goldensovereigns to rattle than he had expected. 

Dalston went to a good hotel, found out all about the trains, and next dayset out, in company with a waiter who had volunteered to be his escort, topurchase a proper outfit--only light clothes, a rifle, a good revolver, and a knife or two to wear in his belt, for he was going west to a roughcountry. 

In the evening, after the waiter and he had dined well at another hotel:

'You go home now, ' said Dalston; 'I'm going round to have a look at thetown, '

'Take care of yourself, ' the waiter said. 

'No fear of me, ' was the laughing reply. 

But that very night he was borne back to his inn, cut, bruised, andfaint. 

And robbed of all his gold. 

'Who has done this?' said the waiter, aghast at his friend's appearance. 

'Smyth!' That was all the reply. 

Dalston lay for weeks between life and death. Then he came round almost atonce, and soon started away on his journey. The waiter--good-naturedfellow--had lent him money to carry him to Mendoza. 

But Dalston's adventures were not over yet. 

He arrived at Villa Mercedes well and hopeful, and was lucky enough tosecure a passage in the diligence about to start under mounted escort toMendoza. After a jolting ride of days, the like of which he had never beenused to in the old country, the ancient-looking coach had completedthree-quarters of the journey, and the rest of the road being consideredsafe the escort was allowed to go on its way to the frontier. 

They had not departed two hours, however, before the travellers wereattacked, the driver speared, and the horses captured. The only passengerwho made the slightest resistance was Dalston. He was speedilyoverpowered, and would have been killed on the spot had not the _cacique_of the party whom Dalston had wounded interfered and spared his life. 

Spared his life! But for what? He did not know. Some of the passengerswere permitted to go free, the rest were killed. He alone was mounted onhorseback, his legs tied with thongs and his horse led by an Indian. 

All that night and all next day his captors journeyed on, taking, as faras Dalston could judge, a south-west course. His sufferings were extreme. His legs were swollen, cut, and bleeding; his naked shoulders--for theyhad stripped him almost naked--burned and blistered with the sun; andalthough his tongue was parched and his head drooping wearily on hisbreast, no one offered him a mouthful of water. 

He begged them to kill him. Perhaps the _cacique_, who was almost a whiteman, understood his meaning, for he grinned in derision and pointed to hisown bullet-wounded arm. The _cacique_ knew well there were sufferingspossible compared to which death itself would be as pleasure. 

When the Indians at last went into camp--which they did but for anight--he was released, but guarded; a hunk of raw guanaco meat was thrownto him, which he tried to suck for the juices it contained. 

Next day they went on and on again, over a wild pampa land now, with hereand there a bush or tussock of grass or thistles, and here and there agiant ombu-tree. His ankles were more painful than ever, his shoulderswere raw, the horse he rode was often prodded with a spear, and he toowas wounded at the same time. Once or twice the _cacique_, maddened by thepain of his wound, rushed at Dalston with uplifted knife, and the wretchedprisoner begged that the blow might fall. 

Towards evening they reached a kind of hill and forest land, where theflowering cacti rose high above the tallest spear. Then they came to aruin. Indians here were in full force, horses dashed to and fro, and itwas evident from the bustle and stir that they were on the war-path, andsoon either to attack or be attacked. 

The prisoner was now roughly unhorsed and cruelly lashed to a tree, andleft unheeded by all. For a moment or two he felt grateful for the shade, but his position after a time became painful in the extreme. At night-fallall the Indians left, and soon after the sufferings of the poor wretchgrew more dreadful than pen can describe. He was being slowly eaten aliveby myriads of insects that crept and crawled or flew; horrid spiders withhairy legs and of enormous size ran over his neck and naked chest, loathsome centipedes wriggled over his shoulders and face and bit him, andants covered him black from head to feet. Towards dusk a great jaguar wentprowling past, looked at him with green fierce eyes, snarled low, and wenton. Vultures alighted near him, but they too passed by; they could wait. Then it was night, and many of the insect pests grew luminous. Theyflitted and danced before his eyes till tortured nature could bear nomore, and insensibility ended his sufferings for a time. 

 * * * * *

The Indians must have thought that, although their attack on our_estancia_ had failed, we were too weak or too frightened to pursue them. They did not know Moncrieff. Wounded though he was, he had issued forthfrom behind the ramparts with thirty well-armed and splendidly-mountedmen. They followed the enemy up for seven long hours, and succeeded inteaching them such a lesson that they have never been seen in thatdistrict since. 

Towards noon we were riding homewards, tired and weary enough now, whenDonald suggested our visiting the old Jesuit ruin, and so we turned ourhorses' heads in that direction. 

Donald had ridden on before, and as I drew near I heard him cry, 'Oh, Moncrieff, come quickly! Here is some poor fellow lashed to theombu-tree!'

CHAPTER XXV

FAREWELL TO THE SILVER WEST. 

We cut the man's cords of thongs, we spread rugs on the grass and laid himgently down, then bathed his poor body with wine, and poured a little downhis throat. 

In about half an hour the wretched being we had thought dead slowly raisedhimself on his elbow and gazed at _me_ as well as his swollen eyes wouldpermit him. His lips moved as if to speak, but no intelligible soundescaped them. The recollection dawned on my mind all at once, and in thatsadly-distorted face I discovered traces of the man who had wrought us somuch sorrow and evil. 

I took his hand in mine. 

'Am I right?' I said. 'Are you Duncan M'Rae?'

He nodded drowsily, closed his eyes again, and lay back. 

We cut branches from the ombu-tree, tied them together with the thongsthat had bound the victim's limbs, and so made a litter. On this we placedrugs and laid the man; and between two mules he was borne by the Gauchosslowly homewards to the _estancias_. Poor wretch! he had expected to comehere all but a conqueror, and in a position to dictate his own terms--hearrived a dying man. 

Our _estancia_ for many weeks was now turned almost into a hospital, foreven those Indians who had crept wounded into the bush, preferring to dieat the sides of hedges to falling into our hands, we had brought in andtreated with kindness, and many recovered. 

All the dead we could find we buried in the humble little graveyard on thebraeside. We buried them without respect of nationality, only a few feetof clay separating the white man's grave from that of his Indian foe. 

'It matters little, ' said Moncrieff. 'where one rests, "For still and peaceful is the grave, Where, life's vain tumults past, The appointed house, by Heaven's decree, Receives us all at last. "'

Both Dugald and Archie made excellent patients, and Flora and Aileen thebest of nurses. But _the_ nurse over even these was old Jenny. She washospital superintendent, and saw to all the arrangements, even making thepoultices and spreading the salves and plasters with her own hands. 

'My mither's a ma_rr_vel at he_rr_bs!' said Moncrieff over and over again, when he saw the old lady busy at work. 

There was one patient, and only one, whom old Jenny did not nurse. Thiswas Duncan himself. For him Townley did all his skill could suggest, andwas seldom two consecutive hours away from the room where he lay. 

In spite of all this it was evident that the ex-poacher was sinking fast. 

Then came a day when Moncrieff, Archie, and myself were called into thedying man's apartment, and heard him make the fullest confession of allhis villainy, and beg for our forgiveness with the tears roiling down hiswan, worn face. 

Yes, we forgave him willingly. 

May Heaven forgive him too!

At the time of his confession he was strong enough to read over and signthe document that Townley placed before him. He told Townley too theaddresses of the men who had assisted him in the old vault at the ruinedkirk in Coila. 

And Duncan had seemed brighter and calmer for several days after this. Buthe told us he had no desire to live now. 

Then, one morning the change came, and so he sank and died. 

 * * * * *

It was several months before we could make up our minds to leave 'Our Homein the Silver West. ' Indeed, there was considerable preparation to be madefor the long homeward voyage that was before us; besides, Townley had noinclination to hurry matters now that he felt sure of victory. 

Victory was not even yet a certainty, however. The estate of Coila waswell worth fighting for. Was there not the possibility, the barepossibility, that the solicitors or advocates of Le Roi, or the M'Rae, whonow held the castle and glen, might find some fatal flaw in the evidencewhich Townley had spent so much time and care in working out andcollecting?

It was not at all probable. In fact, despite the blood-feud, that ancientfamily folly, I believed that M'Rae would act the part of a gentleman. 

'If, ' said Townley to me one day, as we walked for almost the last time inthe beautiful gardens around Moncrieff's mansion-house, 'we have anythingto fear, I believe it is from the legal advisers of the present"occupier"'--Townley would not say 'owner'--'of the estate. These men, youknow, Murdoch, can hardly expect to be _our_ advocates. They are wellaware that if they lose hold of Coila now the title-deeds thereof willnever again rest in the fireproof safes of their offices. '

'I am afraid, ' I said, 'you have but a poor opinion of Edinburghadvocates. '

'Not so, Murdoch, not so. But, ' he added, meaningly 'I have lived longerin life than you, and I have but a poor opinion of human nature. '

'I suppose, ' I said, 'that the M'Rae will know nothing of what is comingtill our arrival on Scottish shores!'

'On the contrary, ' answered Townley; 'although it may really seem likeplaying into our opponent's hands, I have written a friendly letter to theM'Rae, and have told him to be prepared; that I have irrefragableevidence--mind, I do not particularize--that you, Murdoch M'Crimman, arethe true and only proprietor of the estates of Coila. I want him to seeand feel that I am treating him as the man of honour I believe him to be, and that the only thing we really desire is justice to all concerned. '

I smiled, and could not help saying, 'Townley, my best of friends, what anexcellent advocate you would have made!'

Townley smiled in turn. 

'Say, rather, ' he replied, 'what an excellent detective I should havemade! But, after all, Murdoch, it may turn out that there is a spice ofselfishness in all I am doing. '

'I do not believe a word of it, Townley. '

Townley only laughed, and looked mysterious. 

'Hold on a little, ' he said; 'don't be too quick to express yourjudgment. '

'I will wait, then, ' I answered; 'but really I cannot altogetherunderstand you. '

 * * * * *

Perhaps nothing shows true physical courage better than the power to say'Farewell' apparently unmoved. It is a kind of courage, however, that isvery rare indeed, and all sorts of stratagems have been adopted to softenthe grief of parting. I am not sure that I myself was not guilty ofadopting one of these on the morning we left that pleasant home by thelake. 

'I'm not going to say "farewell" at all, ' I insisted, as I shook handswith Irish Aileen and poor old Jenny, Moncrieff's 'marvellous mither. ''I'm coming out again to see you all as soon as ever I can get settled. Doyou think I could leave this beautiful country entirely, without spendingat least a few more years in it? Not I! And even if I do succeed ingetting old Coila back once more--even that, mind, is uncertain--I sha'n'tquite give up Coila New. So _au revoir_, Moncrieff; _au revoir_!'

Then, turning to Jenny, '_Au revoir_, Jenny, ' I said. 

'Guid-bye, laddie, and God be wi' ye. I canna speak French. I've tried aword or twa mair than once, and nearly knocked my jaws out o' the joint;so I'll just say "Guid-bye. " Lang, lang ere you can come back to Coila Newpuir old Jenny's bones will be in the mools. '

I felt a big lump in my throat just then, and was positively grateful whenBombazo strutted up dressed in full uniform. 

'_A dios_', he said; 'my friend, _a dios_. And now you have but to say theword, and if you have the least fear of being molested by Indians, mytrusty sword is at your service, and I will gladly escort you as far asVilla Mercedes. '

It is needless to say that I declined this truly heroic offer. 

Our party--the departing one--consisted of mother, aunt, Townley, Archie, and myself. My sister and my brothers came many miles on the road with us;then we bade them good-bye, and I felt glad when that was over. 

But Moncrieff's convoy was a truly Scottish one. He and his good men neverthought of turning back till they had seen us safely on board the train, and rapidly being whirled away southwards. 

As long as I could see this honest settler he was waving his broad bonnetin the air, and--I felt sure of this--commending us all to a kindProvidence. 

The vessel in which we took passage was a steamer that bore us straight tothe Clyde. Our voyage was a splendid one; in fact, I believe we were alljust a little sorry when it was finished. 

Landing there in the Broomielaw on a cold forenoon in early spring wouldhave possessed but little of interest for any of us--so full were ourminds with the meeting that was before us, the meeting of M'Crimman andM'Rae--only we received a welcome that, being all so unexpected, causedtears of joy to spring to my eyes. For hardly was the gangway thrust onboard from the quay ere more than twenty sturdy Highlanders, who somehowhad got possession of it, came rushing and shouting on board. I knew everyface at once, though some were changed--with illness, years, or sorrow. 

Perhaps few such scenes had ever before been witnessed on the Broomielaw, for those men were arrayed in the full Scottish costume and wore theM'Crimman tartan, and their shouts of joy might have been heard a goodhalf-mile off, despite the noises of the great city. 

How they had heard of our coming it never occurred to me to inquire. Suffice it to say that here they were, and I leave the reader to guess thekind of welcome they gave us. 

No, nothing would satisfy them short of escorting us to our hotel. 

Our carriages, therefore, to please these kindly souls from Coila, wereobliged to proceed but slowly, for five pipers marched in front, playingthe bold old air of 'The March of the Cameron Men, ' while the rest, withdrawn claymores, brought up the rear. 

On the very next day Townley, Archie, and I received a message from M'Raehimself, announcing that he would gladly meet us at the Royal Hotel inEdinburgh. We were to bring no advocate with us, the letter advised; ifany dispute arose, then, and not till then, would be the time to call inthe aid of the law. 

I confess that I entered M'Rae's room with a beating heart. How would hereceive us?

We found him quietly smoking a cigar and gazing out of the window. 

But he turned with a kindly smile towards us as soon as we entered, andthe next minute we were all seated round the table, and business--_the_business--was entered into. 

M'Rae listened without a word. He never even moved a muscle while Townleytold all his long story, or rather read it from paper after paper, whichhe took from his bag. The last of these papers was Duncan's ownconfession, with Archie's signature and mine as witnesses alongsideMoncrieff's. 

He opened his lips at last. 

'This is your signature, and you duly attest all this?'

He put the question first to Archie and then to me. 

Receiving a reply in the affirmative, it was but natural that I shouldlook for some show of emotion in M'Rae's face. I looked in vain. I havenever seen more consummate coolness before nor since. Indeed, it was acoolness that alarmed me. 

And when he rose from the table after a few minutes of apparentlyengrossing thought, and walked directly towards a casket that stood on thewriting-table, I thought that after all our cause was lost. 

In that casket, I felt sure, lay some strange document that should utterlyundo all Townley's work of years. 

M'Rae is now at the table. He opens the casket, and for a moment lookscritically at its contents. 

I can hear my heart beating. I'm sure I look pale with anxiety. 

Now M'Rae puts his hand inside and quietly takes out--a fresh cigar. 

Then, humming a tune the while, he brings the casket towards Townley, andbids him help himself. 

Townley does as he is told, but at the same time bursts into a heartylaugh. 

'Mr. M'Rae, ' he says, 'you are the coolest man that ever I met. I dobelieve that if you were taken out to be shot--'

'Stay, ' said M'Rae, 'I _was_ once. I was tried for a traitor--tried for acrime in France called "Treason, " that I was as guiltless of as an unbornbabe--and condemned. '

'And what did you do?'

'Some one on the ground handed me a cigar, and--I lit it. 

'Nay, my dear friends, I have lost my case here. Indeed, I never, it wouldseem, had one. 

'M'Crimman, ' he continued, shaking me by the hand, 'Coila is yours. '

'Strathtoul, ' I answered, 'is our blood feud at an end?'

'It is, ' was the answer; and once again hand met hand across the table. 

 * * * * *

Need I tell of the home-coming of the M'Crimmans of Coila? Of the clansmenwho met us in the glen and marched along with us? Of the cheering strainsof music that re-echoed from every rock? Of the flags that fluttered overand around our Castle Coila? Of the bonfires that blazed that night onevery hill, and cast their lurid light across the darkling lake? Or of thetears my mother shed when, looking round the tartan drawing-room, thecosiest in all the castle, she thought of father, dead and gone? No, forsome things are better left to the reader's imagination. 

 * * * * *

I throw down my pen with a sigh of relief. 

I think I have finished my story; my noble deerhound thinks so too. Hegets slowly up from the hearthrug, conies towards me, and places hishonest head on my arm, but his eyes are fixed on mine. 

It is not patting that he wants, nor petting either. 

'Come out now, master, ' he seems to say, speaking with soft brown eyes andwagging tail; 'come out, master; mount your fleetest horse, and let ushave a glorious gallop across the hills. See how the sun shines andglitters on grass, on leaves and lake! While you have been writing thereday after day, I, your faithful dog, have been languishing. Come, master, come!'

And we go together. 

When I return, refreshed, and run up stairs to the room in the tower, Ifind dear auntie there. She has been reading my manuscript. 

'There is, ' she says, 'only one addition to make. '

'Name it, auntie, ' I say; 'it is not yet too late. '

But she hesitates. 

'It is almost a secret, ' she says at last, bending down and smoothing thedeerhound. 

'A secret, auntie? Ha, ha!' I laugh. 'I have it, auntie! I have it!'

And I kiss her there and then. 

'It is Townley's secret and yours. He has proposed, and you are to--'

But auntie has run out of the room. 

And now, come to think of it, there is something to add to all this. 

Can you guess _my_ secret, reader mine?

Irene, my darling Irene and I, Murdoch M'Crimman, are also to be--

But, there, you have guessed my secret, as I guessed auntie's. 

And just let me ask this: Could any better plan have been devised ofburying the hatchet betwixt two rival Highland clans, and putting an endfor ever to a blood feud?

THE END. 

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