But Topsie, tired as she was, could not sleep. As she lay on her back, cosily enveloped in her warm fur capa, she could see the stars twinkling above her, and the pale moon shining its green light on the distant snow-capped peaks of the Andes looming against the sky. The dark trees of the forest looked like huge giants in the same fantastic light, and the night wind rustled in their leaves, and enabled imagination to people them with many a laughing elf and fairy sprite. Then the girl’s eyes wandered to the horses, as they quietly cropped the long grass beneath them, thence to the sleeping forms of her companions, and on to the six watching Indians as they sat around the fire chatting and smoking their pipes, two of the number being Coquet and Chorlo.
Topsie’s brain was busy, and her thoughts were far away. She was thinking of that great gold mine of Or, which had claimed a victim to the arms of death each time that it had been visited. She was thinking of the gallant, large-eyed Trauco queen, to whose heart had come that feeling of love, which, old since the world began, has aroused many to do and dare for its sake, and her thoughts dwelt lingeringly around the spot, where the brave strange being had died to save the life of the handsome Cacique, whom she had loved, not selfishly but with the all true instincts of human nature. And then she found herself wondering how the expedition on which they had embarked would end, and picturing the great, unknown, and untrodden scenes through which they were destined to make their way; then the firelight danced in her eyes, the figures of the Indians around it grew dim, the weird forest faded from her sight, the stars and moon went out, as the weary girl succumbed at length in the arms of refreshing sleep.
When she awoke, the dim grey of first dawn held sway, but soon it became tinged with yellow, and red, and gold, and purple light, as the revolving earth wound on its course to meet the God of day, and bathe in his glowing and effulgent warmth. As he appeared rosy and beautiful above the dark forest, the sleeping Indians began to open their eyes; for with these children of nature, did not this gorgeous lamp herald the birth of a new-born day? In a short time business and activity, bustle and movement reigned, where all had been peaceful and still.
First came the maté bowl, and then a general saddling of steeds, after which every one mounted, and headed by Shag, the journey was recommenced in the same order as the previous day. But not before Sir Francis and Piñone, as leaders of the expedition, had held careful and anxious council, and thoroughly discussed the proposed search for La Guardia Chica. From what Piñone had recounted of his experience amongst the Traucos, Sir Francis had little doubt in his mind but that the child had been carried off to the village on the banks of the river where her father and grandfather had so long lived in captivity. In this opinion the Araucanian Cacique concurred, and he expressed himself as confident of being able to lead the expeditionary party thereto, after once gaining the banks of the river which he had so lately quitted as the Traucos’ captive.
Three days were spent in traversing the forest, and in reaching the borders thereof, which opened on to the plain, through whose basin flowed the sluggish river, which had played so important a part in the fortunes of Harry and Topsie two years previously during their wanderings in Patagonia, when, as young Castaways, they had roamed that lonely, mysterious land with the Tehuelche Indians, and in the girl Aniwee’s company. And a very important part, too, it had played in the fortunes of Piñone, as we have seen. It was, therefore, with mixed feelings that every one halted and viewed it from afar, as it wound its snake-like course through the wooded ranges which girt the bases of the glorious Cordilleras.
“Who votes a race for the river?” cried Freddy, appealing to the younger members of the party as they sat at ease on their respective steeds. Tired with the slow pace at which they had been proceeding for the last few days, they accepted the challenge. Amidst the laughter of the Indians, in which Sir Francis and Lady Vane cordially joined, our five young friends set off as hard as their horses could gallop, each desirous of first reaching the river.
“It is not wise,” remarked Piñone gravely, “for the Caciques to leave the main party. If they fell into Trauco hands they could not escape. Let us gallop after them, and rejoin them quickly.”
It was wise advice, and Sir Francis and Lady Vane hastened to adopt it. Next moment the whole party were thundering across the plain in the wake of the girls and boys, whom Shag, as a matter of course, had accompanied. On reaching the river’s banks Piñone at once declared that he recognised the spot, and pronounced it to be about twenty or thirty miles due north of the settlement where dwelt the half-dozen white-haired Traucos. He strongly advised a halt at this juncture, and urged the wisdom of constructing a strong raft, upon which, in case of necessity, they could take refuge. As they had axes and an abundance of strong hide-thongs with them, he declared that the raft could easily be put together in a few days.
Sir Francis yielded to this prudent advice, and when not busy lending a hand in its construction, the young people of the party would amuse themselves by fishing in the river or bathing therein. But Aniwee sat apart, moody and restless. The loss of her child had grievously affected her spirits, and the anxiety and suspense to which she fell a victim were hard to bear. She strove to be brave, this girl Queen, but her heart was grievously torn, and she who could charge in the fiercest battle, ride the wildest of horses, take a foremost part in the most dangerous of sports, found it hard to face the trial which had come to darken her life, just at the very moment when, by the restoration of Piñone, she had thought her life brimful of promise, and good fortune, and happiness bright beyond compare. Blancha was her faithful attendant, seldom quitting her side, and Graviel, when not otherwise engaged in serving Piñone, would render her many a little service and respectful attention. The young Cacique, too, did all in his power to cheer her, and give her hope in the successful issue of the expedition, at the same time assuring her of the kind treatment which the child would receive. This had helped, more than anything else, to raise Aniwee’s spirits from their deep despondency, though suspense still made her moody and sad. One afternoon the two girls and the three boys were fishing by the river, when Mary, who was about fifty yards down stream, suddenly began to call loudly for help. Harry, Topsie, and Freddy at once ran towards her, but as they did so they saw her jerked violently forward, and still clinging to the line, fall headlong into the river. Being a first-rate swimmer, this did not concern them so much; but they were a good deal startled when they saw her dragged right across to the other side, then up stream, and then down stream again, at an alarming rate, the water rising in foam, and swirling all round her with a hissing sound.
“What is it, Mary?” shouted Harry to his cousin.