“Then will you come with me as pilot for a few days?” asked Ruberta.
“I will come—that is, if you are well armed. For there are wild people higher up, who eat man’s flesh; they run from guns, but they do not fear arrows unless there are many bowmen. Then, too, there are the river Chiquitos, who may blow poisoned darts at us unless we keep them at a distance.”
No objection was raised by the Gauchos, to whom Hutchinson gave a small money present, and the Indian retired to “pack up.” The luggage with which he very shortly reappeared was doubtless cumbersome; but then it comprised all that he needed, whether for a journey to the United States, or for setting up housekeeping permanently. Over his shoulders were slung bow, quiver, blanket, lance, and copper pot; in one hand he carried a hatchet, a bundle of lassoes, and two bolas; in the other, some spare thongs, a well-seasoned paddle, a pair of stirrups, each as big and wellnigh as heavy as the skidpan of a waggon-wheel, the sharpened angles of which did 331 duty for spurs; while at his belt hung a knife and a deer-skin pouch, the latter containing flint and steel, palmetto-leaves, tobacco, and a little bag of dried maté. Happy Quiteño; he was ready for any emergency; whether fighting, boat-building, horse-catching, or beast-slaying! Of the launch he had not much opinion; if it did not sink with all that weight of machinery, it would catch fire at any moment; nothing would persuade him to sleep in the tiny forecastle with the Zambos, and he passed the night wrapped in his blanket on deck.
The rancheria, he said, was the last civilised spot they would pass, for Tucuman was many days’ journey away from the water; so was Salta; and, after that, the river became only a stream, running through the territory of the Aymaras. The cotton he knew nothing about, which, from Hutchinson’s point of view, was awkward, as it would mean many landings and perhaps many fruitless searches.
The next morning the Consul woke soon after dawn, to find the guide peering through the hatch of the little after-cabin where he and Ruberta slept.
“The man-eaters have come,” whispered the Quiteño; “they have been watching us all night, I suppose. If you bring your gun you can kill many of them.”
Hutchinson went on deck and looked towards the nearer bank, which was about eight yards away. Crouching behind the reeds were some fifty Indians. He called out to them in Spanish; they made no answer, but slunk backwards a few steps up the slope, so bringing themselves into full view. They were of 332 medium height, stark naked, with no ornaments whatever, and armed only with short spears. The explorer had seen Niger savages and Fuegians, but neither had the debased, abject look of these men.
“Speak to them in your tongue. Tell them we mean no harm,” he said.
The Quiteño obeyed, and it was plain that they at least partially understood him.
“The dogs!” he said scornfully. “They think our boat is alive. May I kill them, Señor?”