CHAPTER VII.
“HERE HANGS HIS BROTHER’S SCALP.”
THE scene is changed.
And such a change!
It is but little more than a fortnight since Tom was busily engaged getting cargo on board the Caledonia at the noisy and far from romantic seaport of Callao. It is little over a week since he bade adieu to Captain Herbert and his friends in the ship, and started from Guayaquil on his daring journey into the wilds of this veritable land of mountain and flood. It is little over a week, and yet it seems an age, and here he is at Riobamba; a town of strange low houses, few of which can boast more than a single apartment, but standing in their own grounds nevertheless. A town which does not look very imposing from a distance, and certainly does not improve on closer acquaintance; built on a sandy plain, in sight of and surrounded by the highest giants of the Andes.
It is night, and Tom, tired of wandering through the streets, is returning to the outskirts, where his little encampment is stationed. He prefers the company of Indians even, to a sojourn for even a single night in the inexpressibly filthy rooms of the city.
It is quieter, too, here; the silence only broken occasionally by the yelping of half-wild curs quarrelling over their carrion, or the cries of the night-birds. The moon is shining very clearly, and the stars look so near that the snow-capped mountains seem far above them. Yonder is the far-famed Chimborazo; Altur is also in sight, with its precipitous and rugged sides, and Carhuairazo, and mighty Tinguragua.
It is seldom indeed that they can be seen so distinctly as they are to-night; but when the moon rises slowly up into the deep-blue sky, flooding all the scene with its dreamy light, the view on every side is grand in the extreme.
And those everlasting hills, the brilliant moon, and the silvery stars, are to Tom’s mind but steps in a ladder that leads his thoughts to heaven itself. He is so impressed with the solemnity of the whole scene, that before he retires to his tent he must needs kneel down and pray. He has much to pray for; he has not thoughtlessly entered upon the undertaking which has hardly yet commenced. He knew all the dangers to which he would be exposed; and although the very idea of being a lonely wanderer through Ecuador wilds appealed to the romance of his character, he would not willingly have risked his young life had not a greater reward than pleasure only seemed to depend upon the success of his expedition, namely, the realization of his dream, and the finding of lost Bernard Herbert. So he prayed now for a blessing on his endeavours; and for an unseen hand to support him in his journeyings, and to shield him from the dangers in forest, in jungle, and plain.
He rose refreshed in spirit, and soon reached his little toldo. His people had built themselves a hut of branches and grass, to shield them from the sun and rain by day and the dews at night. But three of them were waiting to receive him at his toldo door. This toldo, I may here mention, was a kind of gypsy tent of canvas. It had been Captain Herbert’s last gift to him before they parted, and was made by the sailors on board the Caledonia.
It had not been difficult for Tom to secure servants for his expedition into the interior. He had fifty volunteers at least, and from these he chose five. Most of whom were real Indians, with a little Spanish blood in them. Active, young, and strong fellows every one of them, though certainly far from good-looking. Neither were they tall. Tom towered above them like a giant, or as the great volcanic crater of Cotapaxi towers above the neighbouring mountains. I believe each and all of his servants were just a little proud of their young white master, and just a little afraid as well. Tom, during the long years he had spent at sea, had not only developed immense strength, but something of a quick and imperious temper as well. Not that he was a bad-natured fellow by any means, only he would have things done his own way; he would be obeyed, and he had a pair of eyes that looked a man through and through while he issued an order or asked a question. In brief, Tom was not to be trifled with.