“Yes,” said one of them at last. “To-morrow.” (No one in South America ever yet did anything “to-day”; has not mañana fever become a byword?)
“I want to come with you. I will pay you well, if you will take me and my luggage up to Asuncion.”
The savages hesitated, muttered among themselves, and at length one remarked half-sulkily that it was a long journey; nearly two hundred miles. The Señor was doubtless in a hurry, and speaking for themselves they objected to being hurried. They would want to kill deer to take back with them; perhaps to catch fish as well. Mansfield said that that would be no objection, and, in the end, they agreed to set off with him in the morning.
Their respect for the stranger increased somewhat 230 when, the next day, his luggage appeared, and was found to contain a very excellent double-barrelled gun; they themselves had only spears and bows, and were inclined to pooh-pooh firearms except for fighting. Who ever saw a gun kill a manatee, they asked; or a cayman, or even an inia (fresh-water dolphin)? The boat pushed off and swung rapidly round the bend of the river, and out of sight of civilisation. Then the Englishman began to cultivate his crew’s acquaintance. Physically they formed a striking contrast to any of the town Indians he had seen; all were naked but for a waist-cloth of deer-skin; their hair, done in either one or two plaits, reached almost to their heels, though not one of them was under six feet three. At first they were very reserved with their employer, but when, treating them like children, he began to distribute sweet cakes and other confectioners’ ware, such as they had never beheld, their tongues were loosed, one topic led to another, and they soon forgot to be shy or suspicious.
On the first day they showed no disposition to stop or land till night-time, and as they hugged the left bank all the way, Mansfield had the advantage of seeing what was to be seen without the delays that he had anticipated. Whatever else happened on this hazardous journey, starvation would surely be kept at a distance, for in that vast forest through which the Paraguay runs, are no less than four hundred and fifty varieties of birds, from eagles to creatures the size of a thumb-nail, together with deer innumerable; while the fish in the stream almost plead to be caught. Mansfield already knew enough of the climate to be 231 aware that, even in summer, when the sun has gone in, warm coverings are necessary; and he had supplied himself with a pair of good blankets, thinking that he would be expected to sleep in the canoe. But, at sundown, the Indians ran inside a tiny creek and three of them took up their bows and arrows, while the fourth clambered up the bank, spear in hand. Mansfield started to ask questions, but was immediately frowned into silence.
The Indian disappeared behind a thick curtain of bush and creeper, and was followed by one of his friends, who stood on the bank within sight; while the other two remained in the boat, standing like beautiful copper statues, their bows bent, their eyes fixed on the trees or the bank. After a little rustling behind this natural curtain, there came the sharp click of a flint and, a little later, the crackling of burning grass; but not till a great burst of smoke arose, followed by a roaring flare, did the other Indians drop their weapons.
“That will keep the jaguars away,” said one of them. “They come down to drink just about this time.”
“Were you afraid that one of them might spring out on your comrade?” asked Mansfield.
“Who knows? It is not only they that have to be guarded against. Do you hear that noise? That is a puma; ocelots sometimes will spring upon us from a tree; a tapir will attack us if her young one is with her. And what of the snakes and the alligators?”
“Then why land at all for sleeping?”