Miguel's little party was accompanied by donkeys; some of these had panniers, on which the luggage or baggage was carried, as well as the general commissariat. But while two of Miguel's sailors trotted on foot, he himself with Creggan and his friends bestrode strong and agile donkeys.
As guides, they had two hardy Llaneros or plainsmen. These fellows are wilder far than your Mexican cow-boy,—who, by the way, is just as often as not a braggart and a coward. But your true Llanero, with his brown skin, his tattered clothes and cow-hide boots, and the ever-ready lasso across his chest, a knife or pistol in his belt, is as daring as a puma or panther itself. He knows no fear, and takes no hurt wherever he sleeps, or however hard his toil and poor his fare.
No need for a traveller to fear these men. Treat them fairly and squarely, and they will do their duty, ay, and fight to grim death for the man they have undertaken to watch and guide.
Our brave youngsters were marching southwards and west, and would so march for days, until, after crossing many a creek and cañon, and many a river that goes roaring, brown and awful, through gorges among the hills and woods, they should strike the River Tigre itself.
One of the rivers they crossed is wildly beautiful—the Mapiriti. They spent two nights and days near to its green banks, and in a bonny wooded and bosky glen. But they had shooting and fishing also.
Night alone was dreary—and dangerous too. To protect the donkeys from the attacks of wild beasts, they had to cut down branches and throw up a kind of laager, for after supper was cooked and eaten, and the fires burning low warned them that it was time to sleep, the cries and roaring of beasts of prey began, and the brutes came all too close to camp to be agreeable. But the sentries—two there were—had orders to fire if they heard but a bush stirring. The quick sharp ring of the rifles generally ensured peace for a time.
Miguel slept on some bundles of grass, with a pillow of the same material. Nor wild beasts, snakes, nor mosquitoes ever seemed to annoy him.
But the Ugly Duckling and Creggan had each a hammock, hung gipsy-fashion from crossed sticks a few feet above the ground.
After Creggan had said his prayers and lain down, he used to promise himself that he would lie awake for some time and think of his far-off Highland home. But he never succeeded in doing so with any degree of satisfaction. The fatigue of travel, the pure, fresh, and bracing air, to say nothing of a good supper, all tended to induce slumber, and soon indeed was he in the land of forgetfulness, seldom opening his eyes till breakfast was steaming and simmering over the fire.
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