“No, father,” I answered; “I cannot leave you now. I should not find you again, so that my going would not preserve you; and I will therefore stay and share your fate.”
I need not mention all the arguments my father used to persuade me to leave him, and how I entreated him to allow me to remain. At last he consented that I should stay with him till just before daybreak, which is in that, as in most climates, the coolest time generally of the twenty-four hours. He then proposed that I should plant my whip, with a piece of handkerchief tied to the end of it, on the top of the highest rock or piece of ground I should find near, to serve as a mark for his position, should he not by that time have sufficiently recovered his strength to set out with me.
“Perhaps I may be able to accompany you part of the way, and then you will have a less distance to return to look for me,” he observed.
As he spoke, however, I could not help remarking, with grief, that there was a hollow tone in his voice which betokened failing strength, while his words were uttered with pain and difficulty. I could too well judge of his sensations by my own; and gladly would I have given the room full of gold which the unfortunate Inca, Atahualpa, promised to the greedy Spaniards, for a flask of water to quench the burning thirst which was consuming us.
Hour after hour passed away, as we sat side by side on the sand. We spoke but little; indeed I soon fell into a state of dreamy unconsciousness, which was not sleep, though at the same time I could not be said to be awake. All sorts of strange sights passed before me, and strange noises sounded in my ears, though I was sensible that they were not realities. I saw horses galloping before me, some with riders, and others wild steeds with flowing manes. Troops of Indians came by in their feathers and gay dresses, and soldiers marched past with colours flying and bands playing; and hunters, and dogs, and animals of every description. Indeed there appeared no end to the phantom shapes which met my sight.
In vain I endeavoured to arouse myself. A weight I could not throw off pressed me to the ground. I cannot more particularly describe my sensations; I only know that they were very dreadful. I was aware that my father was near me, and that I wished to preserve him from some danger; but I thought sometimes that we were at sea on a raft; at others, that we were sliding down a snowy mountain, and that, though I tried to catch some of the snow in my hand to cool my tongue, it vanished before it reached my mouth; and then I felt that we were sinking into the earth, which, as we sunk, grew hotter and hotter, till it scorched my skin, and I shrieked out with the pain. I started and lifted up my head; a pair of fierce glowing eyes met my view—a huge jaguar or tiger stood before me! We eyed each other for a moment with a fixed gaze. I was more astonished than alarmed; for owing to the state of stupor from which I had been aroused, I had not time to be aware of the peril in which we were placed. Fortunately, when I lay down, I had taken my pistol from my belt, and placed it by my side, ready to grasp it at a moment’s warning. My first impulse was to seize it; and while the jaguar still stood apparently considering whether he should spring upon me and carry me off to the mountains to serve him as a banquet, I lifted the weapon and fired it directly in his face. Startled by so unexpected a reception, instead of springing forward, he turned round with a roar of rage and pain, and galloped off across the desert.
The report of the pistol aroused my father, who could scarcely believe what had occurred. I regretted not having been able to kill the brute; for, driven to extremity as we were, we should eagerly have drunk his blood to attempt to quench our thirst. I reloaded my pistol in the expectation of his return; and grown desperate as I was, I almost hoped that he would do so, that I might have another chance of shooting him. The possibility of this served effectually to prevent me from again falling into a drowsy state, and I believe it was of essential service to me.
Another risk now occurred to me. Though at present perfectly calm, the wind might suddenly arise, and should we fall asleep, the sand might be drifted over us, and we should certainly be suffocated. No mariner, whose ship is drifting on an unknown lee-shore, ever more earnestly wished-for daylight than I did for the appearance of dawn, though I was afraid it could but little avail my poor father.
At length a faint streak appeared in the sky. It was a sign that we must attempt to proceed on our way or abandon all hope of escape. I called to my father, whose eyes were closed.
“Yes, my boy,” he answered, “I will come;” but when he attempted to rise, I saw that his strength was not equal to the exertion.