CHAPTER XI--ALL ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS
That Benee was a good man and true we have little reason to doubt, up tothe present time at all events.
Yet Dick Temple was, curiously enough, loth to believe that Mr. Peterwas other than a friend. And nothing yet had been proved against him.
"Is it not natural enough," said he to Roland, "that he should funk--toput it in fine English--the terrible expedition you and I are about toembark upon? And knowing that you have commanded him to accompany uswould, in my opinion, be sufficient to account for his attempt to escapeand drop down the river to Para, and so home to his own country.Roland, I repeat, we must give the man a show."
"True," said Roland, "and poor Benee is having his show. Time alone canprove who the traitor is. If it be Benee he will not return. On thecontrary, he will join the savage captors of poor Peggy, and do all inhis power to frustrate our schemes."
No more was said.
But the preparations were soon almost completed, and in a day or twoafter this, farewells being said, the brave little army began by forcedmarches to find its way across country and through dense forests anddamp marshes, and over rocks and plains, to the Madeira river, highabove its junction with the great Amazon.
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Meanwhile let us follow the lonely Indian in his terrible journey to thedistant and unexplored lands of Bolivia.
Like all true savages, he despised the ordinary routes of traffic ortrade; his track must be a bee-line, guiding himself by the sun by day,but more particularly by the stars by night.
Benee knew the difference betwixt stars and planets. The latter werealways shifting, but certain stars--most to him were like lighthouses tomariners who are approaching land--shone over the country of thecannibals, and he could tell from their very altitude how much progresshe was making night after night.
So lonesome, so long, was his thrice dreary journey, that had it beenundertaken by a white man, in all probability he would soon have been araving maniac.
But Benee had all the cunning, all the daring, and all the wisdom of atrue savage, and for weeks he felt a proud exhilaration, a glorioussense of freedom and happiness, at being once more his own master, nowork to do, and hope ever pointing him onwards to his goal.
What was that goal? it may well be asked. Was Benee disinterested? Didhe really feel love for the white man and the white man's children? Canaught save selfishness dwell in the breast of a savage? In brief, wasit he who had been the spy, he who was the guilty man; or was it Peterwho was the villain? Look at it in any light we please, one thing iscertain, this strange Indian was making his way back to his own countryand to his own friends, and Indians are surely not less fond of eachother than are the wild beasts who herd together in the forest, on themountain-side, or on the ice in the far-off land of the frozen north.And well we know that these creatures will die for each other.
If there was a mystery about Peter, there was something approaching toone about Benee also.
But then it must be remembered that since his residence on the St. Clairplantation, Benee had been taught the truths of that glorious religionof ours, the religion of love that smoothes the rugged paths of life forus, that gives a silver lining to every cloud of grief and sorrow, andgilds even the dark portals of death itself.
Benee believed even as little children do. And little Peggy in herquiet moods used to tell him the story of life by redemption in heralmost infantile way.
For all that, it is hard and difficult to vanquish old superstitions,and this man was only a savage at heart after all, though, nevertheless,there seemed to be much good in his rough, rude nature, and you mayofttimes see the sweetest and most lovely little flowers growing on theblackest and ruggedest of rocks.
Well, this journey of Benee's was certainly no sinecure. Apart evenfrom all the dangers attached to it, from wild beasts and wilder men, itwas one that would have tried the hardest constitution, if only for thesimple reason that it was all a series of forced marches.
There was something in him that was hurrying him on and encouraging himto greater and greater exertions every hour. His daily record dependedto a great extent on the kind of country he had to negotiate. He beganwith forty miles, but after a time, when he grew harder, he increasedthis to fifty and often to sixty. It was at times difficult for him toforce his way through deep, dark forest and jungle, along the windingwild-beast tracks, past the beasts themselves, who hid in trees ready tospring had he paused but a second; through marshes and bogs, with hereand there a reedy lake, on which aquatic birds of brightest coloursslept as they floated in the sunshine, but among the long reeds of whichlay the ever-watchful and awful cayman.
In such places as these, I think Benee owed his safety to his utterfearlessness and sang-froid, and to the speed at which he travelled.
It was not a walk by any means, but a strange kind of swinging trot.Such a gait may still be seen in far-off outlying districts of theScottish Highlands, where it is adopted by postal "runners", whoconsider it not only faster but less tiresome than walking.
For the first hundred miles, or more, the lonely traveller found himselfin a comparatively civilized country. This was not very much to hisliking, and as a rule he endeavoured to give towns and villages, andeven rubber forests, where Indians worked under white men overseers, awide berth.
Yet sometimes, hidden in a tree, he would watch the work going on; watchthe men walking hither and thither with their pannikins, or deftlywhirling the shovels they had dipped in the sap-tub and holding them inthe dark smoke of the palm-tree nuts, or he would listen to their songs.But it was with no feeling of envy; it was quite the reverse.
For Benee was free! Oh what a halo of happiness and glory surroundsthat one little word "Free"!
Then this lonely wanderer would hug himself, as it were, and, droppingdown from his perch, start off once more at his swinging trot.
Even as the crow flies, or the bee wings its flight, the length ofBenee's journey would be over six hundred miles. But it was impossiblefor anyone to keep a bee-line, owing to the roughness of the country andthe difficulties of every kind to be overcome, so that it is indeedimpossible to estimate the magnitude of this lone Indian's exploit.
His way, roughly speaking, lay between the Madeira River and the GreatSnake River called Puras (_vide_ map); latterly it would lead him to thelofty regions and plateaux of the head-waters of Maya-tata, called bythe Peruvians the Madre de Dios, or Holy Virgin River.
But hardly a day now passed that he had not a stream of some kind tocross, and wandering by its banks seeking for a ford delayed himconsiderably.
He was journeying thus one morning when the sound of human voices notfar off made him creep quickly into the jungle.
The men did not take long to put in an appearance.
A portion of some wandering, hunting, or looting tribe they were, andcut-throat looking scoundrels everyone of them--five in all.
They were armed with bows and arrows and with spears. Their arrows,Benee could see, were tipped with flint, and the flint was doubtlesspoisoned. They carried also slings and broad knives in their belts ofskin. The slings are used in warfare, but they are also used byshepherds--monsters who, like many in this country, know not the meaningof the words "mercy to dumb animals"--on their poor sheep.
These fellows, who now lay down to rest and to eat, much to Benee'sdisgust, not to say dismay, were probably a party of llama (pronouncedyahmah) herds or shepherds who had, after cutting their master's throat,banded together and taken to this roving life.
So thought Benee, at all events, for he could see many articles ofEuropean dress, such as dainty scarves of silk, lace handkerchiefs, &c.,as well as brooches, huddled over their own clothing, and onefierce-looking fellow pulled out a gold watch and pretended to look atthe time.
So angry was Benee that his savage nature got uppermost, and he handledhis huge revolvers in a nervous way that showed his anxiety to open fireand sp
oil the cut-throats' dinner. But he restrained himself for thetime being.
In addition to the two revolvers, Benee carried the repeating rifle. Itwas the fear of spoiling his ammunition that led to his being in thisdreadful fix. But for his cartridges he could have swum the river withthe speed of a gar-fish.
What a long, long time they stayed, and how very leisurely they munchedand fed!
A slight sound on his left flank caused Benee to gaze hastily round. Tohis horror, he found himself face to face with a puma.
Here was indeed a dilemma!
If he fired he would make his presence known, and small mercy could heexpect from the cut-throats. At all hazards he determined to keep still.
The yellow eyes of this American lion flared and glanced in a streak ofsunshine shot downwards through the bush, and it was this probably whichdimmed his vision, for he made no attempt to spring forward.
Benee dared scarcely to breathe; he could hear the beating of his ownheart, and could not help wondering if the puma heard it too.
At last the brute backed slowly astern, with a wriggling motion.
But Benee gained courage now.
During the long hours that followed, several great snakes passed him soclosely that he could have touched their scaly backs. Some of thesewere lithe and long, others very thick and slow in motion, but nearlyall were beautifully coloured in metallic tints of crimson, orange,green, and bronze, and all were poisonous.
The true Bolivian, however, has but little fear of snakes, knowing thatunless trodden upon, or otherwise actively interfered with, they carenot to waste their venom by striking.
At long, long last the cut-throats got up to leave. They would beforemidnight no doubt reach some lonely outpost and demand entertainment atthe point of the knife, and if strange travellers were there, sad indeedwould be their fate.
Benee now crawled, stiff and cramped, out from his damp and dangeroushiding-place. He found a ford not far off, and after crossing, he setoff once more at his swinging trot, and was soon supple and happyenough.
On and on he went all that day, to make up for lost time, and far intothe starry night.
The hills were getting higher now, the valleys deeper and damperbetween, and stream after stream had to be forded.
It must have been long past eight o'clock when, just as Benee wasbeginning to long for food and rest, his eyes fell on a glimmering lightat the foot of a high and dark precipice.
He warily ventured forward and found it proceeded from a shepherd's hut;inside sat the man himself, quietly eating a kind of thick soup, thebasin flanked by a huge flagon of milk, with roasted yams. Great,indeed, was the innocent fellow's surprise when Benee presented himselfin the doorway. A few words in Bolivian, kindly uttered by ourwayfarer, immediately put the man at ease, however, and before longBenee was enjoying a hearty supper, followed by a brew of excellentmate.
He was a very simple son of the desert, this shepherd, but a desultorykind of conversation was maintained, nevertheless, until far into thenight.
For months and months, he told Benee, he had lived all alone with hissheep in these grassy uplands, having only the companionship of hishalf-wild, but faithful dog. But he was contented and happy, and hadplenty to eat and drink.
It was just sunrise when Benee awoke from a long refreshing sleep on hisbed of skins. There was the odour of smoke all about, and presently theshepherd himself bustled in and bade him "Good-morning!", or "Heaven'sblessing!" which is much the same.
A breakfast of rough, black cake, with butter, fried fish, and mate,made Benee as happy as a king and as fresh as a mountain trout, and soonafter he said farewell and started once more on his weary road. The onlyregret he experienced rose from the fact that he had nothing wherewithto reward this kindly shepherd for his hospitality.
Much against his will, our wanderer had now to make a long detour, fornot even a goat could have scaled the ramparts of rock in front of him.
In another week he found himself in one of the bleakest and barreneststretches of country that it is possible to imagine. It was a highplateau, and covered for the most part with stunted bushes and withcrimson heath and heather.
Benee climbed a high hill that rose near him, and as he stood on the topthereof, just as the sun in a glory of orange clouds and crimson roseslowly and majestically over the far-off eastern forest, a scenepresented itself to him that, savage though he was, caused him for atime to stand mute with admiration and wonder.
Then he remembered what little Peggy told him once in her sweet andserious voice: "Always pray at sunrise".
"Always pray at sunrise, For 'tis God who makes the day; When shades of evening gather round Kneel down again and pray. And He, who loves His children dear, Will send some angel bright To guard you while you're sleeping sound And watch you all the night."
And on this lonely hill-top Benee did kneel down to pray a simpleprayer, while golden clouds were changing to bronze and snowy white, andfar off on the forest lands hazy vapours were still stretched acrossglens and valleys.
As he rose from his knees he could hear, away down beneath him, a wildshout, and gazing in the direction from which it came, he saw sevensemi-nude savages hurrying towards the mountain with the evidentintention of making him prisoner.
It was terrible odds; but as there was no escape, Benee determined tofight.
As usual, they were armed with bow and arrow and sling.
Indeed, they commenced throwing stones with great precision before theyreached the hill-foot, and one of these fell at Benee's feet.
Glad, indeed, was he next minute to find himself in a kind of naturaltrench which could have been held by twenty men against a hundred.
On and up, crawling on hands and knees, came the savages.
But Benee stood firm, rifle in hand, and waiting his chance.