I decided to leave the three worst horses, and we found them a fine stretch of grass and water at Roblé Camp. There we left them. They fell to feeding very quietly, and we rode away to the barranca we had so often surmounted that at length we had formed a road through its bushes.
The river appeared to be still rising, and was at that spot sixty yards or so broad. Large trees went whirling by us as we waded down on our horses into the outer plash of the stream. The horses took it bravely and slowly, tired as they were. We now found there were two islands, a smaller and a larger one, on our line of crossing, upon which we rested, and soon nothing remained save a twenty-foot stream between us and the farther bank.
Once my horse fell but recovered himself. Small blame to him, brave beast, he had been carrying fourteen stone all day. At last, after a strenuous moment, the water grew shallower, and we came out on the farther side into a belt of green scrub.
Luck never comes alone. As we rode on three huemules dashed out of a glade and I broke the neck of an old buck with the damaged Colt. I had taken a careful sight for a shoulder-shot! We cut up the huemul, skinned the head and rode on, and soon were out of the cañadon of the de los Antiguos River and riding through the bushes towards our companions. The moon, on her rising, found us still going, and the camp we made was a dozen miles from the river.
That night we put the horses in splendid grass, and in the false dawn of the next morning were in the saddle again. We had about fifty miles to cover before reaching Horsham Camp, and never in my life have I so regretted my weight as on that day. About noon, as we were crossing a white dry lake-bed, a column of smoke went up on Fenix Ford; our comrades were then hurrying to us as we were to them. We answered at once, and a couple of hours later perceived two horsemen on a distant rise. Two! Nothing wrong in camp then! Hurrah! They turned out to be Scrivenor and Burbury.
GRASSY CAMP
At last the vega, two miles out of Horsham Camp, began. I had ridden so much off my horse that the cinch would not hold him. An awful wind arose and the country round—burned by those miserable Santa Cruz people—sent up dust in clouds and blinded us. At last the green tents came in sight, one of which held, I knew, a reindeer sleeping-bag, wherein was to be found warmth and sleep.
When we met my first question was, of course, to ask as to who might be the perpetrator of the two fires we had seen upon the previous day, and which were still burning.