did not understand all that was said, let us hope she learnedenough for her soul's salvation.
Grief had not yet visited our little settlement, but, alas! it was tocome.
August was nearly at a close, and we were beginning to look forward tothe coming of spring, when a more bitter snowstorm came on than any wehad yet known. The snow was not so very deep, but the wind was veryhigh and keen.
Early on the second morning of the second day of the storm, Nadi camerunning to our log-house, and, wringing her hands as if in terriblegrief, asked for Peter.
"Nadi, what is it?" cried Peter, in great concern to see her tears."What has happened?"
Nadi spoke English now. That showed how great and real was her anguish.
"Oh, come, come!" she cried; "come you, quick, plenty quick. De leetlecoqueet, he die. Oh, come!"
Peter never stayed even to put his cap on, but hurried away through thesnow with Nadi towards the Indian toldos.
It was too true. The poor baby was _in extremis_. Peter bent over itas he sat down. It knew him, and smiled in his face.
Peter gave it his forefinger, as he was wont to do, and this the poorlittle thing clutched with its soft hand, and held until it died. Childthough it was, holding Peter's finger seemed to give it confidence. Itwas as if some one was leading it safely through the dark valley.
I had never seen tears in Peter's eyes till that morning.
Let us hope poor baby soon saw the Light.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
THE DREADED RIVER-LION--ADVENTURE ON THE PLAINS--LOST IN ASNOWSTORM--"TO SLEEP WERE DEATH."
The grief of Jeeka and his wife Nadi for the death of their infant waspositively painful to witness. Every one in the camp seemed also topartake in it. There was a kind of wake held the night before thefuneral, and the wailing was greater than anything I have heard inIreland on a like occasion.
At the grave, the horse on which Nadi and baby had travelled all acrossthe Pampa was thrown and strangled, and all the child's trinkets andplaythings and even clothes were burned. The body was rolled in aguanaco robe and laid to rest, the clods were heaped in, and snow putover these. Then we all came silently back.
Next day everything was _in statu quo_ except that baby was not there.We could trace signs of deep grief and a sleepless night in Jeeka's andNadi's faces but they made no reference of any kind to their dead andgone darling.
One calm cold day, Ritchie and Jill returned from the river to say thatthey had seen a most wondrous sight. A huge animal with terrible teethand eyes, shaped somewhat like a tiger, had rushed up out of one of thedeepest, darkest pots or pools and attacked a native dog which wasstanding near.
The fight had been sharp and fierce, but before assistance could berendered, the beast, whatever it was, had conquered the dog and draggedhim down under water.
"_Gol de Rio. Gol de Rio_," said Jeeka, who had heard the account."Not go near. He all same as one Gualichu. Bad man! So, so."
"Bad man here, or bad man there," said Ritchie, "I mean to have a shotat him."
We backed Ritchie in his wish, but as there was evidently no chance ofgetting Jeeka to come with us, we determined to set out ourselves nextday.
We did, and waited four hours in ambush. But all in vain. The Gol deRio, or water-lion, never showed face.
"He is gorging on the poor dog," said Ritchie. "Let us give him a restfor a day or two."
"I've a plan," said Jill. "Let us tether the guanaco lamb to the bank,and stand by with our guns."
The lamb was a poor forsaken little beast we had found half-dead beneatha tree, and taken home and tried to rear.
The plan was feasible. We went very early next morning and tied the weething up to a bush near the bank. It seemed to know there was danger asif by instinct, for it struggled and cried most plaintively andpitifully.
Meanwhile we hid behind a rock, with our guns in position.
We had not long to wait. First there was a ripple on the pool, then amonster brownish-yellow head was protruded, with paws near it paddlinglightly as if for support. The face was whiskered, and the eyes lookedextremely fierce. The beast looked cautiously round first, then it eyedthe shivering lamb, and at once made for the bank.
When near its intended victim, it stopped as if about to spring, movingits long moustache rapidly fore and aft, as a cat does.
Three rifles rang out sharp and clear in the wintry air. Next momentthe huge beast had turned on its back, and its death struggle was abrief one.
This was Jeeka's Gol de Rio. He certainly merited the title; a morerepulsive specimen of river otter I have never seen, before nor since.
We dragged him home with a lasso, and the Indian women and children ranscreaming to their toldos when they saw him.
I was told afterwards that this river-lion had more than once seizedchildren who were playing on the banks of the stream, and I can easilybelieve it.
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Do horses, I have often wondered, possess any instinct to warn them ofcoming danger? The following adventure would seem to prove that theydo.
One bright clear morning, Jill and I made up our minds to ride over tothe lake in the plains and bring home, if possible, some birds. We tookwith us Ossian and Bruce. There was not a cloud in the sky when we setout, and all the surface of the ground was covered with hard dry snow.Unlike Patagonian Indians, white men cannot go very long without food;so Jill and I took a good solid luncheon in our bags, quite enough forourselves and the dogs also. We had a snack behind our saddles also, sothat I might say no huntsmen ever started in quest of sport underhappier auspices.
"Good-bye, Peter, if you won't come," "Good-bye, Peter, if you won'tcome," we cried.
"My bumps!" shouted Peter.
So we waved him a laughing "Adieu!" and went cantering off.
"As the frost is so hard and the day so fine," I said to Jill, "I thinkwe're sure to find some feathers on the lake, for it seldom if everfreezes."
"We're sure to, Jack. And won't we look fine, clattering into campto-night with the ducks and the geese all dangling to our saddles."
"Peter will be jealous."
"Poor Peter! it's a pity he can't ride better."
So on we trotted, talking and laughing right merrily. Presently Jillsaid--
"Sing, Jack; I can give you a bit of a bass."
I did sing, a rattling old saddle-song that I had learned at the Cape.Jill joined in, the horses' feet kept excellent time, and the very dogsbarked with glee as they went galloping on in front.
"Could anything be more jolly?" said Jill.
"Nothing in the world, Jill. I feel as happy as a village maid on hermarriage morning."
"Yes, and happiness and hunger go together. I think I could pick a bitalready."
"Jill, Jill! you're just the same now as when a boy. Put anything inyour pocket, and there never was any keeping your hands from it."
At long last the black water of the lake appeared, and our happinesscame to a crisis when we noticed numerous flocks of birds on it, grey,black, and white.
We would have a good bag.
We trotted round the water's edge and finally dismounted.
All the forenoon we walked about, and had many a good shot. Bruce dulyretrieved everything, and Ossian sat on the bank and looked on.
Then we went back to our horses, fed them and had our own luncheon;resting a good hour afterwards on the snow. The sun was shining sobrightly that we did not feel the cold.
It was by this time pretty far on in the afternoon, but we had not yetmade up the splendid bag we had promised ourselves; so we determined tocontinue the sport, although we already felt somewhat tired, the groundbeing rather rough.
This time we took the precaution to tie our horses to the calipate orbarberry bushes, with lassoes.
The day drew so quickly to a close--apparently, I mean, for time doesslip fast away when one is enjoying himself.
Whe
n the sun sank at last, we found ourselves two good miles at leastfrom our homes. We could not do the distance on such ground, andcarrying so much game, under an hour.
"Never mind, Jill," I said; "there will be a moon, you know."
"Half a moon, but that'll be enough. I believe I shall quite enjoy thecanter home under the stars."
"What is that yonder, Jill?" As I spoke, I pointed to a long whiteridge that was slowly rising over the wooded hills and sierras.
"That is cloud!"
"I hope we are not going to have a change of weather."
"Never mind, we'll soon get home. An hour and a half will do it. Hurryup."
We had been looking for a few minutes more at the ground beneath ourfeet than at anything else. When I glanced along the lake edge again, Icould not believe my eyes, for a moment or two.
Jill gazed