Tom made a spring for his rifle, which lay loaded near him, thinking a jaguar had attacked the camp. But the mystery was speedily solved; for here was Black Tom himself, none the worse for his adventure, as dry as if he had never been half drowned, and in his mouth a plump little cavy. Tom could talk after that.
Samaro brewed an additional bowl of maté, and it was quite late that night before either thought of retiring.
CHAPTER XI.
“THE TREES WENT DOWN BEFORE IT LIKE HAY BEFORE THE MOWER’S SCYTHE.”
THE road next day led over a very lofty range of mountains. I say “road” for want of a better word; for, in the direction they took at the advice of Samaro, there was not even a path. The forest that they had to penetrate, half the distance towards the nearest ridge, was an almost impassible jungle. They had to fight almost every yard of the way against trees and creepers and rocks. There were pumas in this forest; they sighted and startled jaguars even, and snakes seemed to be everywhere, but they thought of nothing but how best to get onwards.
When they reached the mountain top at last, and lay down to rest—fully five thousand feet above the sea-level—every man in the company felt as tired as if a long day’s work had been done.
A cool breeze was blowing at this great altitude however, and having partaken of a moderate luncheon, everybody felt once more as active as Black Tom himself.
The view spread out before them here was wide, wonderful, and magnificent in the extreme. Probably in no country in the world is the scenery more grand and thrilling than in this land of Ecuador. Tom felt the influence of the situation in all its force, as he reclined on a moss-covered bank and gazed enraptured on the panorama that was spread out far below him—the wide and beautiful valley, the winding silvery river with its whirling rapids and waterfalls that sparkled in the sun, hills wooded to the top and forests everywhere, the distant sierras on the horizon, and the sky itself bluer in its rifts to-day than ever he had seen it, because there were ominous-looking rain clouds about.
“I think,” he said to himself, “I could be perfectly happy here if I had anyone to share my pleasure with me. Heigho!” he sighed. “Even the life of a hermit hunter has its drawbacks.”
Then his heart gave a big throb of joy-expectant, as he thought of the probability of soon having as a companion poor lost Bernard, ’Theena’s brother. ’Theena! Yes, dear little ’Theena. He wondered what she was doing just then. But she would not be so little now. ’Theena at thirteen would look and act differently from the ’Theena of nine years old, that had to be forced weeping from his arms when he left his native shore, long, long ago. Ay, indeed it seemed very long ago; for his young life had been so crowded with strange incidents and events, that the past appeared like an age.
And his uncle and dear mother, what would they be doing just then? Sitting by the fire perhaps, and talking of him; for though it was early forenoon here, it would be evening in Scotland. He began to reckon the time in his own mind. He was right, it would be about nine o’clock. His father would be in the corner with that studious face, and that everlasting long pipe of his; his mother and Alicia would be quietly knitting; uncle would be reading his paper with ’Theena by his side; and the great logs and the coal and peats would be merrily blazing on the hearth as they used to be in the dear old days when Jack and Dick used to tease and chaff him, and call him Cinderella. Then he remembered his dream.