Guided by our civilized instinct, which in these utilitarian days prompts man to seek in whatever meets his eye, first and foremost, not its beauty or the symbol which it may represent, or the tendency towards something higher which it may indicate, but its utility, following this delightful system of our latest Christian civilization, I, in common with my companions, at once decided to exploit that simple spirit and press him into our service. Being unable to bargain ourselves—which was lucky for him, for in our enlightened way we should have driven a harder bargain than our men—we entrusted the task to Leal.

The Indian, also true to his instinct, immediately indicated—first by signs, and then by word of mouth, when he saw he was understood—that he craved a part of the innumerable riches before his eyes. He really did not ask for much; he wanted some salt, a knife, a piece of glass like a small mirror that he saw glittering in the hands of one of our men, and whatever else we might be willing to give. He was told that he could have all that he asked and more. He smiled broadly, and a light of joy came over his face. These were signs truly human, not yet trained into the hypocritical conventions of well-bred society. As he stretched forth his hand, he was told that the gift was conditional—that he must earn the articles he coveted, that we expected him to sit beside the other paddlers and help to carry us for two or three days, whereupon he would receive these rich gifts from our prodigal bounty.

This statement seemed to our Indian interlocutor absurd, just as something utterly incongruous and ludicrous in business would strike the mind of a London banker. In his primitive mental organism the idea that one man should work for another was something that found no place. Those forests, rivers, and plains were his home; he roved free and fearless through them, alone or in the company of others, each one of whom provided for himself. A bargain—that basis of civilization, of culture, that great agent of progress and of human development—was something which he could not understand. The essence of the fact, and the fact itself, were beyond him. We could see the struggle between his greed and his love of freedom. The riches that we offered him tempted him far more than glittering diamonds on the counter of a jeweller tempt a vain woman or a burglar at bay. Yet he overcame the temptation. The glad smile vanished; his face darkened with a look that we could interpret as reproach, and possibly contempt; he silently lifted his paddle, and with two strokes sped his canoe into mid-stream. Without glancing backwards, giving now and then a tremendous stroke, he disappeared in the distance. The rays of the sinking sun reddened the waters of the river and the surrounding horizon; the Indian, upright in his canoe, seemed as if clad in a sheet of flame, and finally vanished as though consumed in the crimson glow. The sun itself in the western horizon resembled a huge ball of red-hot iron, as if the Cyclops and the Titans, after playing, had left it behind on the bosom of the endless plain, flat and still as the sea in a calm.

CHAPTER XII

The course of the rivers on the llanos is far from being as straight as the proverbial path of righteousness. They meander, wind, and turn about, so that when on a sharp curve one often sails almost directly against the main direction of the waters. The Indians take short cuts overland which enable them to travel much faster than the canoes. Thus the news of our coming preceded us by several days, and long before we reached the mouth of the Vichada all the tribes had heard that the largest expedition known in their history was on the way.

For reasons which he explained to us afterwards, Leal had, without consulting us, informed the first Indians whom we met that ours was a party of missionaries. I do not suppose that he went into any further details. In the mind of the Indians the remembrance of missionaries seems to have lingered from the days when Jesuit missions were established on nearly all the principal rivers of the Orinoco watershed. From the time of the Independence there have been no regular missions following a consistent plan and belonging to a special organization. Now and then desultory attempts have been made without any appreciable results. But the Indians respect the missionary; possibly they also fear him, and, as we could observe later on from our own experience, they expect from him gifts not only of a spiritual, but of a material kind.

The result of all this is that a missionary is more likely to be welcomed and assisted than any other traveller. This was what guided Leal in what he considered a harmless assertion—a pious fraud, in which the fraud is more obvious than the piety.

Be it remarked, however, that neither my companions nor I had the least responsibility for Leal’s action. When travelling along the mule-tracks leading to the plains, public opinion, or what under the existing circumstances took its place, had assigned to our expedition an episcopal character. This assimilation to the Church seemed to have been our fate. Here again we were incorporated in its fold in an official capacity, so to speak, without the least intention or effort on our part. When we learnt what Leal had done, it was too late to withdraw, and we resigned ourselves to our new ecclesiastical honours with proper humility.

It is said that men may be great, some because they are born great, others because they achieve greatness, and others yet again because greatness is thrust upon them. In the present instance the clerical character was thrust upon us. We—at least, I can answer for myself—tried to live up to the new dignity, not only inwardly, but outwardly, assuming, as far as circumstances would permit, the sedate and reverent, contemplative demeanour which so well suits him who devotes his life to the welfare of others, seeking to guide them to heaven by an easy path, no matter at what cost of personal sacrifice or discomfort to himself.

Strange, however, that this self-sacrificing mood adopted in imitation of true priests, who despise the comforts and joys of life, should have been assumed in our own spurious case for the special purpose of increasing those worldly comforts and material joys!