Violent pains, that racked my head, were followed by strong vomitive symptoms; but I was still helpless.
While the oxen were being harnessed, I made a second effort to leave the cart, but I could not rise. Soon the villanous Facundo entered, and, bidding me, in no gentle tones, to keep quiet, and not kick around, he started his oxen, and, with the rest of the caravan, we were again in motion.
I soon fell into a delightful sleep, and dreamed most pleasant dreams. At one moment I was moving through the air, light, free from human bonds, a very spirit; my whole senses were intoxicated with most delicious sensations. Again I beheld most beautiful visions and most gorgeous colors. At last I seemed to have been transported back to my native village, and kind friends were grouped around me. The voice of welcome greeted me, all trouble seemed ended. A clear, sweet voice sang a well-remembered song, which seemed to be the very essence of melody, so ravishingly did it fill upon my ear.
Gradually the voice grew indistinct, then loud and harsh, and I returned to consciousness to recognize the tones of Facundo, who was singing to himself. His discordant words were uttered in a long-drawn cadence, commencing in a low, mournful strain, and ending with a couplet and groans.
The following syllables will give an idea of his song. They were repeated so many times that I shall hardly forget them:—
“Que pur ma no yepe—oh—AH—OUGH.
Ya, ke, pur, se, va, yah—oh—OH—AH—OUGH.”
Facundo continued groaning, either for his own pleasure or for my discomfort, during the greater part of the time that I lay sick in the cart.
At our first stopping-place, about two hours after breakfast, the woman sent me, by little Juan, a tea that she had prepared from some herbaceous plant of the pampas, to gather which she had walked all the morning behind the carts.
I felt much better after drinking the tea, but did not entirely recover from my sudden illness for several days. I subsequently learned that it was not unusual for the Santia gueños to revenge a fancied insult, or to annoy one whom they have a dislike for, by administering poison, sometimes in sufficient quantities to destroy life, and at other times in a quantity sufficient to produce only sickness. They had undoubtedly taken advantage of the absence of the patron to treat me as they did.
The first time I sallied forth from confinement I was received in a characteristic manner by the drivers, who clapped their hands to their stomachs, and questioned me with impudent gestures if I was not ill, and what was the trouble. The good woman only said, compassionately, “Pobre cito” (poor fellow).