Feeling tired, after my frugal meal, which compared to my hunger was but as a drop in the ocean, I lay down on my furs and dosed off into a sound sleep, from which I was presently awakened by a confusion of strange screeching and flapping of wings. Starting up, I found the noise proceeded from some carranchos, who were quarrelling over my meat, or rather over the bone, which was all that I found of it, after I had driven them away with stones and strong language. 'Incidit in Scyllam,' etc. In my endeavours to secure my food from the foxes, I had delivered it into the beaks and claws of the carranchos, and felt not a little annoyed at my own carelessness. It was no pleasant matter having to fast for the next thirty hours, hungry as I already was, and if Guillaume by some possible accident were detained a day longer, I might find myself in a very serious plight. I was evidently out of luck, and that with a vengeance, and I began to wonder what my next mishap would be. The only misfortune that could now happen to me was that my horse might take it into his head to run away, and then I should indeed be in a desperate fix. He was quietly grazing at the time, but the idea of such a possibility so startled me that I immediately tied a lasso to his halter and secured it to a huge stone near the house, so as to prevent any such untoward eventuality. Then, feeling hungry, I commenced to search my traps for any stray piece of meat that might possibly have been forgotten there. All I could find was a small piece of puma fat, wrapped up in a piece of linen, in a coat-pocket of Guillaume's, which had doubtless been intended for greasing the dog's paws when wounded, for which purpose it is considered an excellent specific. To me, under my present circumstances, however, it was quite a treasure, and I immediately cooked and ate half, keeping the rest for the next day.
Having made all my arrangements for passing the night, I made a good fire, as it was very cold, and wrapping myself up well in my capa, I sat down beside it, waiting as stoically as I could for night-time, and trying to forget, amidst the splendour of the sunset, the small sharp whisper of the little voice within my stomach.
From the slight elevation where I was now sitting I could overlook the whole of the surrounding country—the far hills and plains; the winding valley shut in by steep cliffs, past whose base the river swept its tortuous course; the broad lakes formed by the overflow of its waters, dotted everywhere with green islands, where thousands of wild fowl were now assembled—the harsh cries of the gulls and the plaintive note of the kay-kén being the only sounds that broke the otherwise intense silence. Over all the setting sun was pouring his last rays, bathing the distant hills in a warm haze, and burnishing the waters at my feet with fiery showers of light, and lending, with his magic tints of red and gold, a transitory gleam of grace and beauty even to that wild desert spot.
But as the sun went down the charm sped with him. The glory departed from the distant hills, and they became grey and cold as before; the light faded from the valley, the waters assumed a muddy hue, and the islands blackened on their surface. The cry of the wild fowl slowly ceased, and below me, soon, all was silent and dark.
The stars crept out one by one, and still I sat by the red gleams of the dying fire, listening to the whispering voices of the night-wind and watching the weird, ghostly shapes occasionally assumed by the white mist that now hung over the valley, as it swayed mysteriously to and fro, like a band of unquiet spirits.
The whole thing seemed so unreal, the turn of events so fantastic, which had brought me, a child of noisy towns and bustling marts, into my strange position, alone in that immense solitude—the wildness of the scene, starlit and dim, the strange noises of the night, the thousand sounds which yet seemed silence—I thought it must all be a dream, and most surely I must awaken and find myself in my own room, under warm bedclothes, with the voice of the servant with my shaving-water ringing in my ears.
But a shiver of cold which went through my body, and the strong pangs of hunger, were quite sufficient to remind me of the reality of all around me; so, heaping some more wood on the fire and giving another look to see if the horse was secure, I sought my couch, to sleep as best I might till morning.
A sharp frost fell during the night, much to my satisfaction, as I had now strong hopes of crossing the river in a couple of days. Having satisfied myself that the water was still falling rapidly—always my first task of a morning—I cooked and ate the remaining piece of puma fat, and then, still feeling terribly hungry, and as a means of killing time till Guillaume should come, I tried to stalk wild geese with my revolver. I could never come within range, however, though they are not very shy, and finally gave up this unexciting and unproductive sport in a rather unpleasant state of mind, as I began to ask myself what I should do if Guillaume should happen not to come back that day.
Casting my eyes about, they happened to fall on a large island in the middle of the valley, which had often attracted our attention on account of its being the rendezvous of a bevy of swans, which we imagined must have nests and eggs there, and we had often meditated a raid on the latter. Hitherto we had been hindered from doing so, because the island was surrounded for a long distance by very deep water, which, as may be imagined, was quite sufficient to keep the swans' eggs safe from us as long as anything else could be found to eat. Since we had last surveyed the defences of the island, however, the water had fallen very much, and it occurred to me, in my present stress, that by carefully searching I might find a tolerably dry road to the island. I accordingly saddled my horse, and set out on my exploration. After a great deal of splashing and several narrow escapes of tumbling into holes, varied by occasional energetic protests from my horse—who, by-the-bye, after all his late experience and his daily three or four rides through the water to examine the river, must have thought I was trying to convert him into an amphibious animal—I at last managed to discover a route which was almost practicable, and which by the next day, when the water would have fallen still further, would probably be thoroughly so. I could distinctly see several swans sitting on their nests, to whom I waved a light au revoir, and then returned to the camp, feeling that even if Guillaume were not to come back that day, I now knew where to find my dinner, although at the expense of a slight wetting.
However, I fortunately had no necessity for incurring that inconvenience; for, towards five o'clock, just as—despairing of his return—I was getting ready to swim over to the island, I descried him galloping towards the camp. He presently arrived, bringing the dogs, some meat, and four ostriches' eggs he had found on the way.