With Cochrane the Dauntless

by G. A. Henty

Hurka hurried up on the other side of Stephen. “It is true!” he exclaimed; “he knows me also.”

The Indian brought a gourd, and poured some liquor into Stephen’s mouth. “Do not talk,” he said; “we shall have plenty of time for that later on.”

Stephen closed his eyes obediently. Even now he was not certain but that he was still in a dream. So many times of late he had had a vague fancy that his Indian guides were still with him that he doubted the evidence both of eye and ear. However, he soon went off to sleep again. When he awoke, Hurka was at hand, and ready to pour some hot broth down his throat. It was long before he was strong enough to ask questions, and the Indian positively refused to talk. At last the time came when he was able to be propped up into a sitting position on his bed, which was composed of leaves covered with blankets.

“I am strong enough to hear about it now, Pita. Tell me where I am and how you come to be here.”

“Hurka will tell,” the Indian replied; “it is a long talk.”

Stephen looked to Hurka, who at once began.

“When you did not return that evening, señor, Pita and I went out to search for you. We knew where you generally sat, but you were gone. We went to the mission, got some torches, and searching in the sand between the rocks we found traces of Indians’ feet, and were able to follow them up to a point nearly a mile below the falls. There they ceased, and we were sure that you had been carried off in a canoe. As we found no sign whatever of blood or marks of a struggle we felt sure that you had not been wounded, but concluded that you had been suddenly seized, bound, and carried off. We roused some of the mission Indians, and I with three of them took to our canoe and paddled down the river for twelve hours. As we had no weight to carry and had four paddles, we felt sure that by that time we should have overtaken you had they held on down the river, for we concluded by the footmarks that there were but three of them, and they had your weight in the boat.

“They could hardly have counted on being pursued so [pg 334]closely, and would not, therefore, have made any special effort. Then we turned and paddled back, keeping close to the trees in hopes of getting some sign of where the canoe had entered the forest. We found none, and as soon as we got to the mission, I set out to follow Pita, who had started inland. We thought it likely that the Indians had come across the inundations, and that he might obtain some news as to which tribe they belonged to. Of course he followed the high ground and passed through several Indian villages, but he was sure that they had not come from these, for in that case they would have gone on foot to the mission instead of taking the trouble to pass through the forest in a canoe. He walked sixty miles the next day and then reached the farthest edge of the inundation, and leaving the high ground followed it.

“He had taken with him a bag of flour from the mission, and kept on for a week; then he thought he must have gone beyond the spot where you had been landed. He had walked, he thought, fifty miles a day, and was more than three hundred from the high ground, and concluded that unless the canoe had come a long distance up the river they would never have made so long a passage through the forest. Then he went back again, keeping further away from the water. Four days later he came upon a group of Indian huts, and there heard that a strange white man had arrived at a village twenty miles distant, two days before. None knew from whence he came, for he had fallen down as soon as he arrived, and was lying ill. Pita could not understand how you could have arrived in such a state, unless indeed you had killed your captors after landing, and had then wandered in the forest until you chanced upon the village. He hastened there, greatly disturbed in his mind, in the first place, at the thought of your illness, and next because the tribe was a very savage one and ate human flesh.

“When he entered the village the natives crowded round him. He was an Indian like themselves, but his dress showed that he consorted with the hated white men. Pita, however, pushed them aside, and to their astonishment spoke to them in their own language. Pita’s mother, indeed, had been one of that very tribe, and her father a great chief among them, so that when he told them who he was, he was heartily welcomed and treated with great respect. It was lucky for me that he arrived, for only the day before I too, when I gained news of your whereabouts, had reached the village, and upon entering had at once been made prisoner. I gathered from what I could understand of their language that I was to be eaten. I think that the manner in which you entered their village, and the mystery as to how you could have come there, saved your life. It seemed to them as something supernatural, and they were attending you carefully in order that if you recovered they might learn from you how you had come there, after which they would no doubt have killed you. Pita had some difficulty in obtaining my release, but upon his saying that, although belonging to another tribe, I was a great friend of his, they handed me over to him. Since then we have been as natives of the village. We have taken it by turn to nurse you, and by turns have hunted with the men.”