The Indians said that the Gualichu had lured the horses away—meaning the evil spirit whom they sometimes worship.
The Gualichu might have been an evil spirit, but if so he was a most handsome one, and shaped like a small-headed, fiery-eyed, arch-necked stallion, with marvellous mane and tail.
I was surprised to see Jeeka level his gun at the beautiful brute and fire. The stallion rolled down dead, and after that we had but little difficulty in bringing back our steeds.
We encamped that night by a very small stream, which meandered through a chaos of round stones and boulders. And here, for the first time since we set out, we succeeded in catching fish—a kind of grey mountain trout; they were of excellent flavour, but small in size.
We saw some commotion among the Indians this evening after dinner, and found they were muttering prayers or incantations, and making salaams to the new moon.
“Poor benighted heathens!” said Peter, glancing up at the lunar scimitar, which had just escaped from beneath a little cloud. “Poor heathens! I quite feel for them.”
“But what are you doing,” said Jill, “with your hands in your pockets?”
“Why, I’m turning my money of course. Don’t you always do that when you see the new moon?”
“Poor benighted heathen!” cried Jill.
Peter now saw what was meant, and laughed as heartily as any one.