“Stay!” shouted Piñone, raising his hands imploringly; “do not fire, but retreat hastily. These are not Traucos; they are those big apes whom the young Caciques call demons; they are the fiends I told you of. They will attack the Traucos, and while they do so we must retreat at the run, along the river’s banks. They are our saviours; it is the white Gualichu of good, that has sent them to aid our escape. All hail to the Gualichu!”
As he spoke he handed his rifle to Aniwee, and seizing the child started off as hard as he could go, followed by the remainder of the party. At the same time loud yells arose from the Andes demons as they beheld the Traucos advancing, and the next moment the hairy men and their hideous counterparts, were engaged in mortal combat.
Hot and breathless with exertion, the runaways halted after they had proceeded about two miles, and listened anxiously for any sound of pursuit, but only the distant yells of the demons came back to their ears, telling them that the fight still raged.
At this juncture they were joined by Lady Vane, who had come to meet them, and who uttered an exclamation of thankfulness as she beheld the child. But there was no time for explanations, and the retreat was resumed at the same pace as before. On reaching the raft every one hastily embarked, and its head was put up stream as soon as it had been punted down and out of the affluent, and heartily, as may be imagined, did Sir Francis, his wife, children, nephew, and niece, thank God for their most wonderful luck and escape from death, at the hands of the Traucos and their arrows. Both Topsie and Piñone had their wounds dressed at once, and very sore and painful they proved for a time, but fortunately the arrows were not poisoned, so that no evil results followed.
All that day, and the remainder of that night, and the next day, the raft was kept going, the Indians taking it by turns to sleep and manœuvre the craft. It had been finally decided not to attempt a return past the Trauco village, but to proceed to Araucanian territory through Patagonia. Previously, however, it was agreed to by all that the great gold mine of Or must be visited, and Harry and Topsie’s hearts bounded at the thought of seeing that wonderful cave once more, and revisiting the grave of their old hermit uncle, Sir Harry Vane.
CHAPTER XXIV.
The raft lay moored in the little alcove where Harry and Topsie two and a half years previously had encountered the jaguars, and where old Sir Harry had received his death wound. To readers of “The Young Castaways,” therefore, these scenes will come back as old spots revisited, friends of the past looked upon once more.