CHAPTER SIX.
A STORM IN THE MOUNTAINS--REFUGE FOUND--CONVERSE ROUND THE FIRE.
The summit of the pass was at last gained, and not a moment too soon,for the storm which they had experienced a few days before was but theprelude to a gale such as is rarely experienced save in the wintermonths of the year, when most of the mountain passes are closed.
It began by mutterings of distant thunder, which caused the guide tolook round the horizon and up at the sky somewhat anxiously.
"Do you think we shall reach our next shelter before it breaks?" askedLawrence.
"I hope so," said Pedro, pausing on a ridge from which an almostillimitable view was had of mountain range and valley in all directions.
"Far over in that direction," he continued, pointing with his hand,"lies the land of the Incas. You have heard of the Incas, senhor?"
"Yes, I have heard of them, but cannot say that I am intimatelyacquainted with their history."
"It is a strange history--a very sad one," returned Pedro. "I will tellyou something about it at another time; at present it behoves us to pushon."
There was no question as to that point, for just as he spoke a suddenand powerful gust of wind swept Quashy's straw hat off and sent itspinning gaily along the path. Vaulting from his mule with a wildshout, the negro gave chase on foot, with an amount of anxiety thatseemed not justified by the occasion. But as the poet truly puts it,"things are not what they seem," and Quashy's head-piece, whichpresented much the appearance of a battered old straw hat, was in truthan article of very considerable value.
It was one of those hats made by the people of South America, with adelicate fibre so finely plaited that in texture it resembles finecanvas, though in appearance it is like straw. It is exceedingly tough,takes a very long time to manufacture, and costs many dollars--so many,indeed, that a hat of the kind is thought worthy of being preserved andleft as an heirloom from father to son as long as it lasts.
No wonder then that the negro made frantic efforts to regain hisproperty--all the more frantic that he was well aware if it should passover one of the neighbouring precipices it would be lost to him forever. At last a friendly gust sent it into a snowdrift, through whichQuashy plunged and captured it.
Snow in considerable quantities lay here and there around them in theform of old patches or drifts, and this began to be swept up by thefierce wind in spite of its solidity. Soon new snow began to fall, and,mingling with the old drifts, rendered the air so thick that it wassometimes difficult to see more than a few yards in advance. Lawrence,being unused to such scenes, began to fear they should get lost in theseawful solitudes, and felt specially anxious for Manuela, who, despitethe vigour of a frame trained, as it no doubt had been, in all thehardihood incidental to Indian camp life, seemed to shrink from thefierce blast and to droop before the bitter cold.
"Here, put on my poncho," said the youth, riding suddenly up to thegirl's side and unceremoniously flinging his ample garment over theslight poncho she already wore. She drew it round her at once, andsilently accepted the offering with a smile and an inclination of hersmall head which, even in these uncomfortable circumstances, were fullof grace.
"Why _was_ she born a savage?" thought the youth, with almost petulantexasperation. "If she had only been white and civilised, I would havewooed and won--at least," he added, modestly, "I would have _tried_ towin and wed her in spite of all the opposing world. As it is, the--the--gulf is impassable!"
"You have anticipated me, senhor," said the guide, who had reined inuntil the rest of the party overtook him. "I had halted with theintention of offering my poncho to Manuela. Poor girl, she is adaughter of the warm Pampas, and unused to the cold of the mountains."
He turned to her, and said something in the Indian tongue which seemedto comfort her greatly, for she replied with a look and tone ofsatisfaction.
"I have just told her," he said to Lawrence, as they resumed thejourney, "that in half an hour we shall reach a hut of shelter. It isat the foot of a steep descent close ahead; and as the wind isfortunately on our backs, we shall be partially protected by the hill."
"Surely the place cannot be a farm," said Lawrence; "it must be too highup for that."
"No, as you say, it is too high for human habitation. The hut is one ofthose places of refuge which have been built at every two or threeleagues to afford protection to travellers when assailed by suchsnow-storms as that which is about to break on us now."
He stopped, for the party came at the moment to a slope so steep that itseemed impossible for man or mule to descend. Being partly shelteredfrom the fitful gusts of wind, it was pretty clear of snow, and theycould see that a zigzag track led to the bottom. What made the descentall the more difficult was a loose layer of small stones, on which theyslipped continually. Before they had quite completed the descent thestorm burst forth. Suddenly dense clouds of snow were seen rushing downfrom the neighbouring peaks before a hurricane of wind, compared withwhich previous gusts were trifles.
"Come on--fast--fast!" shouted the guide, looking back and waving hishand.
The first deafening roar of the blast drowned the shout; but before thesnowdrift blinded him, Lawrence had observed the wave of the hand andthe anxious look. Dashing the cruel Spanish spurs for the first timeinto the side of his no doubt astonished steed, he sprang alongside ofManuela's mule, seized the bridle, and dragged it forward by main force.Of course the creature objected, but the steep road and slipping gravelfavoured them, so that they reached the bottom in safety.
Here they found the first of the refuge-huts, and in a few moments wereall safe within its sheltering walls.
Having been erected for a special purpose, the hut was well adapted toresist the wildest storm. It was built of brick and mortar, thefoundation being very solid, and about twelve feet high, with a brickstaircase outside leading to the doorway. Thus the habitable part ofthe edifice was raised well above the snow. The room was about twelvefeet square, the floor of brick, and the roof arched. It was adungeon-like place, dimly lighted by three loop-holes about six inchessquare, and without furniture of any kind. A mark in the wall indicatedthe place where a small table had originally been fixed; but it had beentorn down long before, as Pedro explained, by imprisoned and starvingtravellers to serve for firewood. The remains of some pieces of charredwood lay on the floor where the fire was usually kindled, and, toPedro's great satisfaction, they found a small pile of firewood whichhad been left there by the last travellers.
"A dismal enough place," remarked Lawrence, looking round after shakingand stamping the snow out of his garments.
"You have reason to thank God, senhor, that we have reached it."
"True, Senhor Pedro, and I am not thankless; yet do I feel free torepeat that it is a most dismal place."
"Mos' horriboble," said Quashy, looking up at the vaulted roof.
"Ay, and it could tell many a dismal story if it had a tongue," said theguide, as he busied himself arranging the saddles and baggage, andmaking other preparations to spend the night as comfortably ascircumstances should permit. "Luckily there's a door this time."
"Is it sometimes without a door, then?" asked Lawrence, as he assistedin the arrangements, while Quashy set about kindling a fire.
"Ay, the poor fellows who are sometimes stormstaid and starved here havea tendency to use all they can find about the place for firewood. Someone has replaced the door, however, since I was here last. You'll findtwo big nails in the wall, Manuela," he added in Indian; "if you tie oneof the baggage cords to them, I'll give you a rug directly, which willmake a good screen to cut off your sleeping berth from ours."
In a short time Quashy had a bright little fire burning, with the kettleon it stuffed full of fresh snow; the saddles and their furniture madecomfortable seats and lounges around it; and soon a savoury smell ofcooked meat rendered the cold air fragrant, while the cheery blazedispelled the gloom and made a wonderful change in the spirits of all.Perhaps we should
except the guide, whose calm, grave, stern yet kindlyaspect rarely underwent much change, either in the way of elation ordepression, whatever the surrounding circumstances might be. Hisprevailing character reminded one of a rock, whether in the midst of acalm or raging sea--or of a strong tower, whether surrounded by warringelements or by profound calm. Need we say that Pedro's imperturbabilitywas by no means the result of apathy?
"Blow away till you bust your buzzum," said Quashy, apostrophising thegale as he sat down with a beaming display of teeth and spread out hishands before the blaze, after having advanced supper to a point whichadmitted of a pause; "I don' care a butt'n how hard you blow now."
"Ah! Quashy," said the guide, shaking his head slowly, as, seated onhis saddle, he rolled up a neat cigarette, "don't be too confident. Youlittle know what sights these four walls have witnessed. True, this isnot quite the season when one runs much risk of being starved to death,but the thing is not impossible."
"Surely," said Lawrence, stretching himself on his saddle-cloths andglancing at Manuela, who was by that time seated on the opposite side ofthe fire arranging some hard biscuits on a plate, "surely people havenot been starved to death here, have they?"
"Indeed they have--only too often, senhor. I myself came once to thishut to rescue a party, but was nearly too late, for most of them weredead."
He paused to light his cigarette. The negro, after making the door moresecure, sat down again and gazed at the guide with the glaring aspect ofa man who fears, but delights in, the horrible. Manuela, letting herclasped hands fall in her lap, also gazed at Pedro with the intenseearnestness that was habitual to her. She seemed to listen. Perhaps,being unusually intelligent, she picked up some information from theguide's expressive face. She could hardly have learned much from hisspeech, as her knowledge of English seemed to be little more than "yes,""no," and "t'ank you!"
"It was during a change of government, senhor," said Pedro, "that Ichanced to be crossing the mountains. There is usually a considerablerow in South America when a change of government takes place. Sometimesthey cause a change of government to take place in order to get up aconsiderable row, for they're a lively people--almost as fond offighting as the Irish, though scarcely so sound in judgment. I had somebusiness on hand on the western side of the Cordillera, but turned backto give a helping hand to my friends, for of course I try never to shirkduty, though I'm not fond of fighting. Well, when I got to the farmnearest to this hut where we now sit, they told me that a tremendousgale had been blowing in the mountains, that ten travellers had beensnowed up, and that they feared they must all have perished, sincetravelling in such weather was impossible."
"`Have you made no effort to rescue them?' I asked of the farmer.
"`No,' says he, `I couldn't get any o' my fellows to move, becausethey've been terrified about a ghost that's been seen up there.'
"`What was the ghost like?' I asked; so he told me that it was afearful creature--a mulish-looking sort of man, who was in the habit ofterrifying the arrieros and peons who passed that way, but he said theywere going to get a priest to put a cross up there, and so lay theghost.
"`Meanwhile,' I said, `the ten travellers are to be left to starve?'
"`It's my belief they're starved already,' answered the farmer."
At this point Pedro paused to relight his cigarette, and Quashy breatheda little more freely. He was a firm believer in ghosts, and feared themmore than he would have feared an army of Redskins or jaguars. Indeedit is a question whether Quashy could ever have been brought to realisethe sensation of fear if it had not been for the existence, in hisimagination, of ghosts! The mere mention of the word in presentcircumstances had converted him into a sort of human sensitive-plant.He gave a little start and glance over his shoulder at every gust ofunusual power that rattled the door, and had become visibly paler--perhaps we should say less black.
Manuela was evidently troubled by no such fears, perhaps because she didnot understand the meaning of the word ghost, yet she gazed at thespeaker in apparently rapt attention.
"You may believe," continued the guide, "that I was disgusted at theircowardice; so, to shame them, as well as to do what I could for thetravellers, I loaded a couple of my mules with meat, and said I wouldset off alone. This had the desired effect, for three men volunteeredto go with me. When we reached the hut we found that six of the tenpoor fellows were dead. The bodies of two who had died just before ourarrival were lying in the corner over there behind Quashy. They weremore like skeletons covered with skin than corpses. The four who stilllived were in the corner here beside me, huddled together for warmth,and so worn out by hunger and despair that they did not seem to care atfirst that we had come to save them. We warmed and fed them, however,brought them gradually round, and at last took them back to the farm.They all recovered. During the time they were snowed up the poorfellows had eaten their mules and dogs. I have no doubt that if theground were clear of snow you would find the bones of these animalsscattered about still."
This was not a very pleasant anecdote, Lawrence thought, on which toretire to rest, so he changed the subject by asking Pedro if there weremany of the Incas still remaining.
Before he could reply Manuela rose, and, bidding them good-night inSpanish, retired to her screened-off corner.
"A good many of the Incas are still left," replied the guide to hiscompanion's question; "and if you were to visit their capital city youwould be surprised to see the remains of temples and other evidences ofa very advanced civilisation in a people who existed long before theconquest of Peru."
"Massa Pedro," said Quashy, who would have been glad to have therecollection of ghosts totally banished from his mind, "I's oftin hearob de Incas, but I knows not'ing about dem. Who is dey? whar dey comefro?"
"It would take a long time, Quashy, to answer these two questions fully;nevertheless, I think I could give you a roughish outline of a notion inabout five minutes, if you'll promise not to stare so hard, and keepyour mouth shut."
The negro shut his eyes, expanded his mouth to its utmost in a silentlaugh, and nodded his head acquiescently.
"Well, then, you must know," said Pedro, "that in days of old--about thetime that William the Conqueror invaded England--a certain Manco Capacfounded the dynasty of the Incas. According to an old legend this Mancowas the son of a white man who was shipwrecked on the coast of Peru. Hemarried the daughter of an Indian chief, and taught the peopleagriculture, architecture, and other arts. He must have been a man ofgreat power, from the influence he exerted over the natives, who styledhim the `blooming stranger.' His hair was of a golden colour, and thisgave rise to the story that he was a child of the sun, who had been sentto rule over the Indians and found an empire. Another tradition saysthat Manco Capac was accompanied by a wife named Mama Oello Huaco, whotaught the Indian women the mysteries of spinning and weaving, while herhusband taught the arts of civilisation to the men.
"Whatever truth there may be in these legends, certain it is that MancoCapac did become the first of a race of Incas--or kings or chiefs--and,it is said, laid the foundations of the city of Cuzco, the remains ofwhich at the present day show the power, splendour, and wealth to whichManco Capac and his successors attained. The government of the Incaswas despotic, but of a benignant and patriarchal type, which gained theaffections of those over whom they ruled, and enabled them to extendtheir sway far and wide over the land, so that, at the time of theinvasion by the Spaniards under Pizarro, the Peruvians were found tohave reached a high degree of civilisation, as was seen by their publicworks--roads, bridges, terrace-gardens, fortifications, and magnificentbuildings, and so forth. It is said by those who have studied thematter, that this civilisation existed long before the coming of theIncas. On this point I can say nothing, but no doubt or uncertaintyrests on the later history of this race. Cuzco, on Lake Titicaca,became the capital city of a great and flourishing monarchy, andpossessed many splendid buildings in spacious squares and streets. Italso be
came the Holy City and great temple of the Sun, to which pilgrimscame from all parts of the country. It was defended by a fortress andwalls built of stone, some blocks of which were above thirty feet longby eighteen broad and six thick. Many towns sprang up in the land.Under good government the people flourished and became rich. They hadplenty of gold and silver, which they used extensively in the adornmentof their temples and palaces. But evil followed in the train of wealth.By degrees their simplicity departed from them. Their prosperity ledto the desire for conquest. Then two sons of one of the Incas disputedwith each other for supremacy, and fought. One was conquered and takenprisoner by the other, who is reported to have been guilty of excessivecruelties to his relations, and caused his brother to be put to death.Finally, in 1532, the Spaniards came and accomplished the conquest ofPeru--from which date not much of peace or prosperity has fallen to thelot of this unhappy land.
"Yes," said the guide in conclusion, "the Incas were, and some of theirdescendants still are, a very fine race. Many of the men are what Icall nature's gentlemen, having thoughts--ay, and manners too, thatwould grace any society. Some of their women, also, are worthy to--"
"Pedro!" interrupted Lawrence eagerly, laying his hand on the guide'sarm, for a sudden idea had flashed into his mind. (He was rathersubject to the flashing of sudden ideas!) "Pedro! _she_ is a daughter ofa chief of the Incas--is she not? a princess of the Incas! Have I notguessed rightly?"
He said this in a half whisper, and pointed as he spoke to the screenbehind which Manuela lay.
Pedro smiled slightly and tipped the ash from the end of his cigarette,but made no answer.
"Nay, I will not pry into other people's affairs," said Lawrence, in hisusual tone, "but you once told me she is the daughter of a chief, andassuredly no lady in this land could equal her in grace or dignity ofcarriage and manner, to say nothing of modesty, which is the invariableevidence."
"Not of high rank?" interrupted the guide, with a quick and slightlysarcastic glance.
"No, but of nobility of mind and heart," replied the youth, with muchenthusiasm. In which feeling he was earnestly backed up by Quashy, who,with eyes that absolutely glowed, said--
"You's right, massa--sure an' sartin! Modesty am de grandest t'ing Iknows. Once I knowed a young nigger gal what libbed near your fadder'smill--Sooz'n dey calls 'er--an' she's _so_ modest, so--oh! I not kin'splain rightly--but I say to 'er one day, when I'd got my couragescrewed up, `Sooz'n,' ses I. `Well,' ses she. `I--I lub you,' ses I,`more nor myself, 'cause I t'ink so well ob you. Eberybody t'inks wellob you, Sooz'n. What--what--' (I was gitten out o' bref by dis timefrom 'citement, and not knowin' what more to say, so I ses) `what--whatyou t'ink ob _you'self_ Sooz'n?'
"`Nuffin',' ses she! Now, _wasn't_ dat modest?"
"It certainly was, Quashy. Couldn't have been more so," said Pedro."And after that we couldn't, I think, do better than turn in."
The fire had by that time burned low, and the gale was still ragingaround them, driving the snowdrift wildly against the hut, and sometimesgiving the door so violent a shake as to startle poor Quashy out ofsweet memories of Sooz'n into awful thoughts of the ghost that had notyet been laid.
Each man appropriated a vacant corner of the hut in which to spread hissimple couch, the negro taking care to secure that furthest from thedoor.
Lawrence Armstrong thought much over his supposed discovery beforefalling asleep that night, and the more he thought the more he feltconvinced that the Indian girl was indeed a princess, and owed her goodlooks, sweet disposition, graceful form and noble carriage to herdescent from a race which had at one period been highly civilised whenall around them were savage. It was a curious subject of contemplation.The colour of his waking thoughts naturally projected itself into theyoung man's dreams. He was engaged in an interesting anthropologicalstudy. He found himself in the ancient capital of the Incas. He behelda princess of great beauty surrounded by courtiers, but she was _brown_!He thought what an overwhelming pity it was that she was not _white_!Then he experienced a feeling of intense disappointment that he himselfhad not been born brown. By degrees his thoughts became more confusedand less decided in colour--whitey-brown, in fact,--and presented aseries of complicated regrets and perplexing impossibilities, in a vaineffort to disentangle which he dropped asleep.