He drew from his alforjas the horn of a wild bull, poured water in it to two-thirds of its capacity, added some sugar and some harina tostada or parched meal, and with a spoon he mixed it so as to make it a kind of broth. He then with great gusto swallowed this singular compound, which in these countries forms the principal nourishment of the poorer classes. This frugal meal ended, he lighted his cigarette and fell into a brown study.
A few minutes afterwards he set off. As he had done during the night, he did not follow—we will not say any marked route, for such routes do not exist in these regions—any pathway at all. He pushed right ahead, in the Indian fashion, neither swerving to the right nor to the left, leaping obstacles which rose before him, crossing rivers wherever he met with them, or scampering through ravines and quagmires, always following without deviation the right line he had marked out for himself.
For six days he travelled thus without meeting any incidents worthy of remark. On the evening of the sixth day he reached a somewhat elevated hill, the summit of which was only shaded by a single tree.
This position was marvellously chosen to serve for an observatory. From it the Montonero completely commanded the plain, and his eye could extend on all sides as far as the distant blue of the horizon, without anything disturbing his view.
This time Zeno Cabral, after having rubbed down his horse, instead of giving him his liberty as he had done each evening, kept on his harness, with the exception of the bridle to allow him to feed, tied him to a picket strongly planted in the earth, and on a blanket spread on the ground he placed a ration of maize—a feast that the horse evidently appreciated, for, having neighed with pleasure, he proceeded to eat heartily.
The young man looked at him a short time, patting him and speaking gently to him—caresses that the noble animal seemed to receive with gratitude. The Montonero then, having supped without even sitting down, rapidly descended the hill, on the summit of which burned his solitary watch fire, and penetrated hastily into the underwood, looking attentively round him, and seeking, by the rays of the setting sun, something to which he appeared to attach great importance.
For about an hour he devoted himself to an active search, walking cautiously round the hill. He then stopped, uttering a cry of joy. He had at last found what he wanted. Before him rose a group of the Amyris elemifera, or balsam tree, commonly called by the Indians "candle wood." The Indians cut the branches, and sometimes the shrub itself, making use of it as a kind of torch. The light given by these torches is brilliant and strong, and the torch itself lasts a considerable time.
Zeno Cabral felled with his sabre several of these branches, stripped them of their leaves, made a bundle of them, which he placed on his shoulder, and again ascended to the summit of the hill.
Meanwhile the sun had disappeared, and the day had been almost without any transition replaced by night.
Darkness soon blinded all objects, drowned all the features of the landscape, and the desert was covered as with a funeral winding sheet.