Chapter 4. Approach My Home...

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_ CHAPTER FOUR. APPROACH MY HOME--A WELCOME--MY SISTER NORAH--THE INDIAN'S WOUND DRESSED--HE TAKES HIS MEDICINE FROM NORAH--HIS GRATITUDE--MY FAMILY--A HAPPY EVENING--CANDELA LEAVES US--OUR RELATIVE, DON FERNANDO SERRANO--GERALD AND I PAY HIM A VISIT--THE BARAWA INDIANS--OUR COUSINS--DONNA ISABELLA MONTEROLA--I PRACTISE WITH THE LANCE--WIN DONNA ISABELLA'S APPROVAL--WE TAKE OUR DEPARTURE--SWIM ACROSS A RIVER--PUT TO FLIGHT BY A BOA-CONSTRICTOR--TRAVEL ALONG THE BORDERS OF A LAKE--SEE DR. STUTTERHEIM--HE ACCOMPANIES US HOME--TAKES KANIMAPO IN HAND--THE FATE OF DONNA PAOLA SALABRIATA--START ON A SHOOTING EXPEDITION WITH THE DOCTOR--ENCOUNTER A HUGE ANACONDA--I SHOOT IT, AND SAVE THE DOCTOR--CARRY OFF THE SKIN IN TRIUMPH.

We were now approaching my father's house, and I recognised several points in the surrounding scenery. The northern end of the lake came into view, bordered by lofty palms and other graceful trees, and I remembered well the shape of the mountains which rose above it.

Tim kept a watchful eye on our prisoner, who, though badly wounded, might still, he thought it probable, attempt to make his escape. He had not spoken as yet, but I observed his dark eye wandering on every side, either in the hope of rescue, or as if considering in what direction he should fly, should he be able to free himself from the thongs by which he was secured to the mule. I was surprised that his followers should have deserted him in the cowardly way they had done. He was a fine-looking savage, with features more refined and regular than those of the Indians I had hitherto seen. But his countenance was sullen; and, from his resolute aspect, he probably expected that he would meet with the fate the Spaniards invariably inflicted on their captives, and be immediately put to death on our arrival at our destination. I suspect that he was in ignorance as to who we were, and supposed that we belonged to a party of patriots; and if so, he must have been surprised on discovering the smallness of our numbers.

Tim led his mule, constantly looking back to assure himself that he had not succeeded in loosening the thongs which secured his arms and legs. At the same time Tim continued talking to me, and pointing out various objects which I thought I remembered.

At length he exclaimed,--"Sure, Masther Barry, there's the masther's house; and mighty glad they'll all be to see you safe;" and he pointed to a good-sized house with a broad verandah in front, shaded by trees, and standing in the midst of a large, well-irrigated garden. Though smaller than I had supposed, I at once knew the house to be that in which I was born. "And beyond it there, higher up the hill, you see Mr Concannan's mansion--Castle Concannan, we call it, you'll remember--and a pretty dacent castle it is, with its high, thick walls and courtyard; it would take a pretty strong earthquake to shake it down. He has made it stronger still, by blocking up some of the lower windows."

In our eagerness to reach home, we pushed on as rapidly as our mules could move. We were yet at a little distance, when, riding on ahead, I caught sight of the figure of a black woman holding up a chubby little boy in her arms. I felt sure that he must be my youngest brother,--the baby, as he was called,--whom I had never seen, and that the woman must be our nurse, Josefa. She gazed at me, doubting whether the tall young man she saw approaching could be the little boy who had gone away but a few years before. The baby, who was a good bouncing one, shook his rattle, and seemed satisfied that I was some one he ought to expect.

Josefa knew me the moment I uttered her name; and as I sprang from my mule, she and little Denis, who was named after our uncle, threw their arms round my neck. We then hastened on towards the front gate, Josefa shrieking out in her delight,--"They are come! they are come! It is Senor Barry!" Her voice was heard at the house; and my father and mother, with my sister Norah and the rest of the family, guessing who we were, hurried out to welcome us.

Our first greetings over, my father expressed his satisfaction at my appearance.

"You have benefited greatly by your stay in the old country, Barry," he said; "and your journey here seems to have done you no harm."

My mother pressed me to her heart; and my sweet sister Norah kissed my cheek again and again, gazing at me as sisters are apt to do at a brother of whom they are proud. I am sure I felt proud of her, and wondered that all the young men in the neighbourhood were not dying with love for her; but perhaps they had too much to do in fighting for the liberty of their country.

As may be supposed, my father soon made inquiries about our captive. Uncle Denis explained how we had caught him, and suggested that he should be placed in a strong room, under a proper guard, where his wound could be tended without the risk of his making his escape. My father observed that he had a small unoccupied room at the back of the house, which would serve as a prison; and to this our captive was at once conducted.

As there was no surgeon, either English or Spanish, living within many miles, my uncle undertook to dress the Indian's wound, and to do his best to cure him.

A bed was brought into the room, on which he was placed. Uncle Denis then commenced his operations.

After gently washing the wound, he discovered to his satisfaction that the ball had passed through the Indian's body, and that he should therefore not have to attempt its extraction. This greatly facilitated his task. My mother having brought some linen bandages and a healing salve, the wound was carefully bound up. The Indian, who did not once wince, though he must have been suffering great pain, gazed with a look of surprise at my uncle and the other bystanders, and was evidently wondering why so much care was taken of him. My sister Norah then brought in a cooling draught, which she offered to him; and speaking first in Spanish, and then in the language generally used by the Indians in the neighbourhood, advised him to take it, assuring him that it would be beneficial. He, without hesitation, swallowed the draught; and now speaking for the first time, expressed his gratitude for the attention bestowed on him.

"We are sorry that you were wounded, and our wish is that you may recover," said Norah, in a pitying tone. "You must rest now; and if you will give your word that you will not attempt to escape, or to injure those who are guarding you, your arms will be left at liberty."

The Indian hesitated, and was apparently considering the consequences which might ensue should he give the promise required.

"Tell him that we intend to keep him a prisoner only till his wound is healed, and that we will not now trouble him with questions; but we shall by-and-by wish to learn who he is, and why he attacked your uncle and Barry," said my father.

Norah repeated this, for having learned the Indian tongue from her nurse, she spoke it better than any one else in the house; no one, indeed, would have been so likely to calm the suspicions of our captive, and to gain his confidence, as she was. "We do not wish you to speak now," she added; "but to-morrow or next day, when you are stronger, you will tell us what we seek to know. And now, will you give me the promise we ask? It will be for your benefit; and you know how you would have been treated had you fallen into the hands of the Spaniards."

"I promise to remain quiet as a child on its mother's breast," answered the Indian. "Kanimapo never breaks his word; and to you, who have treated him so mercifully, he will be faithful."

On this assurance, in which my father and uncle believed that they could trust, the Indian's limbs were left unfettered; but, at the same time, they thought it prudent to place a man well-armed with pistols and a dagger at the door, and carefully to bar the window on the outside, so that the captive, even in possession of his full strength, would have been unable to make his escape.

My father, with Norah, always accompanied by another person, visited him several times during the evening. Notwithstanding all the care bestowed on him, he appeared to be suffering much, though, Indianlike, he endeavoured not to exhibit his feelings; but his eye brightened whenever it fell on Norah, and he seemed to look upon her as his good genius. Each time he showed his gratitude by a few words, or by the expression of his countenance when unable to speak from pain.

We had a very happy evening. My parents were glad to have me back safe, and, as may be supposed, we had a great deal to talk about.

My young brother, Gerald, was fully as fine a little fellow as Tim had described him. He constantly came up to my side, and brought various articles to show me--stuffed birds, and the skins of animals he had shot--and as soon as he could he dragged me away to exhibit his gun, and his canoe, and several animals he had tamed. Kathleen, my second sister, was like Norah, but on a smaller scale; and Mary, the third, was a jolly little girl, fat and chubby as a rosy apple, in spite of the climate in which she was born; while the baby, Denis, was a merry chap, who took to me at once, though he might not exactly have comprehended our relationship.

Our uncle remained with us during the night, that he might attend to our wounded prisoner, though anxious to proceed to his brother's house. He was also unwilling to let Candela go back alone, lest the Indians who attacked us might be still prowling about, and should murder him.

"I have no fear on that score, senor," he answered; "I know the country better than they do, and can easily make my way without being discovered. They would not, either, willingly attack the senor padre's servant; and so by daybreak to-morrow I will depart, as my master will be anxious to hear of your arrival."

We sent many messages to the kind padre; and my father especially invited him to come to our house, should he at any time find himself threatened by the Spaniards on account of his Liberal principles. His cloth certainly would not save him, as they had already shot several padres who had sided with the patriots; the greater number of the priests, however, professed to be loyal subjects of the King of Spain, and supported his cause. One might have supposed that the Spaniards, after all they had suffered at the hands of Napoleon's generals, would have been inclined to treat their fellow-countrymen in their colonies with leniency; but, on the contrary, the only lesson they appeared to have learned had taught them to be more cruel and tyrannical than their conquerors.

Among the various friends about whom my uncle made inquiries was our relative, Don Fernando Serrano, whose estate was a few leagues off, though it abutted upon that of Mr Concannan, which extended a considerable distance to the southward. Properties in that country are of great extent, and a visitor to Don Serrano's house had to travel a dozen leagues through his estate before reaching it. He was not only a wealthy man, but greatly esteemed by all who knew him. He was supposed to entertain strong Liberal principles, but, on account of his age and health, had taken no part in the struggle going forward. My mother's and Uncle Denis's father, I may remark, had married his sister; he was therefore my great-uncle, and his children were my cousins. Our families, too, had always been on the most friendly terms, and my father and mother had paid frequent visits at his house. His eldest son, Don Carlos, who was married and had a large family, lived with him. Two of Don Carlos' sons and one of his brothers had joined the insurgents, but, not to commit Don Fernando, had assumed different names; though we knew that both Don Fernando and Don Carlos afforded much pecuniary assistance to the Liberals. From the precautions they had taken, they believed that they were not suspected by the Royalists, and at all events they had escaped being molested.

Their chief cause of anxiety arose, however, from the hostile behaviour of a tribe of Indians, the Barawas, who inhabited the shores of the river Guaviare, falling into the Orinoco. They belonged to the great Carib family, and had many years before been driven by their white invaders from their native territory on the coast to the eastward, and had here settled themselves; retaining, however, their warlike disposition and many of their ancient manners and customs. Barawa is a Carib name for the sea; and they consequently took it, as was supposed, from their ancestors having lived on the borders of the ocean, or having crossed it from the lands they once inhabited. We had little doubt that our prisoner belonged to that tribe, and was probably a chief among them.

My father told us of a report he had heard, of Spanish emissaries having visited them for the purpose of inducing them to take up arms against the Republicans; and should such be the case, the capture of our prisoner, Kanimapo, might prove a fortunate circumstance, as we should hold him as a hostage for their good behaviour. The next morning, however, there appeared great probability that our hopes would be disappointed; for on my uncle's visiting him he found him much worse. As the day advanced, Uncle Denis expressed his fears that the Indian would die, notwithstanding all the care bestowed on him.

Day after day, however, the wounded man lingered on. My father and Norah were assiduous in their attentions to him; and he refused to take such medicines as we possessed from any other hands but my sister's. There was now no chance of his escaping, for he was too weak to walk; indeed, he could scarcely sit up in his bed. Still, the Indians possess wonderful vitality and endurance, which enable them to recover from wounds of the body; but they succumb very quickly to European diseases. Though apparently growing weaker, Kanimapo still clung to existence. He seemed grateful, too, for the attentions shown him; but except having mentioned his name, he had not told us who he was, nor had he given any reason for attacking our party.

Uncle Denis had gone home; and soon after Gerald and I paid a visit at his house. We then went on to that of our relation, Don Fernando Serrano, where we were received by him and my cousins with the greatest kindness. They were interested in hearing of all my adventures, and especially in the accounts I gave them of our capturing the Indian; but they were unable to conjecture who he was. I was delighted with all the family, they were so gentle and loving to each other, and so kind to me. What also surprised me much, was to find that Don Serrano regularly read the Bible and had prayers with his family. Such a thing was at that time probably unheard-of in South America. They did not speak unkindly of the nearest padre, who occasionally visited them, but they evidently held him in no respect.

"He is a poor ignorant man," observed Don Carlos, "a blind leader of the blind; he expressed his horror at finding we read the Bible, and urged us to give up the practice, as one most dangerous to our souls. Now, it is very evident to me that from the Bible alone do we know anything about God, or how He desires men to live; and therefore, unless we read the Bible, we must remain ignorant of Him and His will, or obtain the knowledge second-hand from one who might make grievous mistakes in interpreting it,--as Padre Bobo would most certainly do."

I suspected from this (what I afterwards found to be the case) that my relatives were really Protestants, though they did not openly declare themselves to be so; that their family had held these opinions from the time when many of the noblest in Spain had espoused them. Their ancestor had providentially escaped the doom which the horrible Inquisition had inflicted on the greater number of those who had become Protestants: having made his way to America with his wife, he had settled in this then remote region; but dreading persecution, he had not attempted to promulgate his opinions beyond his own family. My maternal grandfather, when he married Donna Teresina Serrano, had, through her instruction, become a Protestant. Thus, in the heart of South America, those principles were cherished which, as was fondly hoped, would spread around them when liberty should be established among the population.

I suspect it was owing to the machinations of the priests that the Barawa Indians had proved so hostile to one whose wish and aim was always to benefit them. That such was the case, Don Fernando could not clearly ascertain; but it was known that Padre Bobo had made several visits to the Indians, for the purpose, as he professed, of converting them to Christianity. He had managed, indeed, to induce some of them to allow him to baptise their children, but they remained as utterly ignorant of the Truth as before. (What I have here mentioned, I heard from my own family before Gerald and I set off to visit our friends.) As is often the case in Spanish families of wealth, there were three generations living in harmony together, and I was somewhat puzzled at first to distinguish between my numerous relatives. Gerald, who knew them all, helped me, but still I was frequently making mistakes. Among them was a very beautiful girl, whom I at first took to be one of my cousins, and whom I addressed accordingly; but after I had been there a couple of days, she laughingly told me that, though she should be very happy to be a relative, she was not so in reality: that her name was Isabella Monterola, and that she was a ward of Don Fernando. Then suddenly changing her tone from gay to grave, she said,--"I am happy here, and they are all very kind; but I cannot forget my poor father, who was murdered by the cruel Spaniards because he loved liberty and hated tyranny; and, alas! my mother, who was compelled to witness his execution, died of grief. They would have shot her too, had she lived, as they did other women, without remorse; and me, perhaps, because I was their child, had I not been so young but I was rescued from prison by Juan Serrano, and brought here secretly. The Spaniards did not know who carried me off, and therefore could not send to bring me back, or they would have done so. You have not been long enough in the country to have heard one-tenth part of the horrible cruelties those Gothos have inflicted on our people."

"But you, Donna Isabella, are Spanish, and so are all our friends here," I said, after having expressed my horror of the atrocities which had been committed in the country.

"I am a child of Venezuela," she answered proudly. "I disown the name of Spaniard; do not, Senor Barry, ever call me one again. We speak the language of Spain, it is true, and boast our descent from noble ancestors who conquered the country in which we live; but we have for ever severed our connection with the land from which we came, because Spaniards desire to enslave us."

I had considered Donna Paola a heroine, but as I listened to Donna Isabella I thought her a still more interesting one; and she was equally anxious to enlist recruits in the cause of liberty.

I had not forgotten the advice General Bermudez had given me; and I found my young cousins were in the habit of exercising themselves daily in the use of the lance, as well as with firearms and swords. Every morning they went out for some hours on horseback, and practised on a level meadow at some little distance from the house; and I soon became as expert as any of them. The ends of our lances were not only headless, but covered with a soft pad, so that we could charge at each other without much risk of serious injury; and one day, in a sham fight, I unhorsed all my opponents in succession. As I rode up to where the ladies--who had come out to witness our sports--were standing, they greeted me with loud applause, and Donna Isabella especially showed her satisfaction by the bright smile she gave me and the eagerness with which she waved her scarf.

We had occasionally, also, real sport in hunting wild boars in the part of the forest frequented by those animals. The first day I went out I killed a boar, after narrowly escaping, by a dexterous turn of my horse, being killed myself. We killed a bear, too, and a puma, or South American lion--which, next to the jaguar, is the most savage animal in that continent; and I had the satisfaction of presenting the skin to Donna Isabella.

But our visit was at last to come to an end. Very unwillingly, so far as I was concerned, did we bid our friends good-bye, and mount our horses to commence our journey.

"I shall expect to hear great things of you, Senor Barry," said Donna Isabella, as I bade her farewell. "The next campaign undertaken by Bolivar will, it is hoped, complete the overthrow of the Spaniards, I am told."

"The noble sentiments you hold will inspire me, Donna Isabella," I answered; "and if you will give me that feather from your hat, I will ever wear it in battle, and promise that it shall never be seen in flight."

She, smiling, instantly gave it me, and I fixed it securely in my hat. We were very young, and I had of late become more romantic than I had ever before been.

At last we had to ride forward, two of our cousins accompanying us to the borders of the estate. As we were well-mounted, instead of taking the rougher but shorter road across the spurs of the mountains, we had settled to strike down into the plain, where we could gallop for a considerable distance, and then, keeping by the borders of a long lake, return towards our own home. Gerald, who knew the way well, said there were no insuperable difficulties to overcome, though we might have to swim a stream or two. "But that," as he observed, "is nothing when one is accustomed to it; and you, Barry, will have many a river to cross and many a marsh to wade through, as well as mountains to climb, and hundreds of miles to gallop over the prairie, when you take service with General Bermudez."

He was right; and I was glad to gain some experience as to the varieties of country I might have ere long to traverse.

We were armed with pistols, carbines, and lances, though Gerald's arm was not strong enough to wield the latter with much effect; but he could skilfully use his carbine when going at full gallop. We trusted, however, to the speed of our horses, should we come in sight of any marauding party of the enemy; and Gerald declared that three, or even four or five, horsemen would not dare to attack us. He was indeed the most spirited little fellow I ever met, and utterly fearless.

As we galloped along we kept a look-out over the plain for any horsemen who might appear.

"I only wish two or three would come!" cried Gerald. "We would soon make the survivors turn to the right-about; for I am pretty sure we should kill a couple at least."

"I hope that we shall not have anything of the sort to do," I answered. "I am perfectly ready to fight, when necessary, in a right cause, such as I believe that to be in which our friends are engaged; but it is dreadful to contemplate killing people unless stern necessity compels us. Warfare is terrible work at the best, and the butcheries of which I have heard in this country show too well what men are capable of when their passions are excited. For my part, though I have seen but little of fighting as yet, I wish that peace were established."

"Oh, you wouldn't do for a guerilla!" exclaimed Gerald, in a somewhat contemptuous tone.

"I shall not fight with less determination because I wish for peace," I continued, not minding him. "The only way to secure it is to beat our enemies; and that I will do my best to accomplish, when I have the opportunity."

"That I am sure you will!" exclaimed Gerald, sorry for his remark; for though impulsive, and in the habit of blurting out anything that came uppermost, he was ever ready to acknowledge himself in the wrong.

We galloped on for some leagues, stopping occasionally to give our horses breath, and then reached the borders of the lake I spoke of-- which extended for some distance parallel with the foot of the mountains, and was fed by several streams which flowed from them. It was also connected, by another stream, with the smaller lake below our father's house. Out of it likewise flowed a river of some size towards the east.

We had forded two of these smaller streams without difficulty, when we came to a wider and deeper one.

"We shall have to swim for a little distance," said Gerald; "but our horses will perhaps carry us over on their backs. However, if we find that our weight is too much for them, we must slip off; only we must remember to hold on tight by their manes, and keep at their shoulders, to avoid the unpleasant pats they might otherwise give us with their fore hoofs. And, by-the-by, it will be as well, while we are on their backs, to keep our feet as high up as we can, lest an alligator should take a fancy to our toes; though, as the brutes are of no great size, we haven't much to fear from them."

I thought Gerald was joking; but he was perfectly in earnest, though the danger we were to run did not in the slightest degree trouble him.

I followed his advice when, after wading a short distance, my horse began to swim. Shortly afterwards, as its body was completely immersed, I slipped off its back, taking care to hold on to its mane, near the crupper, with one hand, while I struck out with the other. Gerald himself, being so much lighter, stuck on, and guiding his horse to a shelving part of the bank, regained the firm ground.

I was still in the water, when, looking up the stream, he shouted out to me,--"Make haste, make haste, Barry! for here comes an ugly-looking customer it would be as well not to encounter in the water."

As may be supposed, I was making all the haste I could; for I had no fancy to remain in the river longer than necessary, with the possibility of being seized by an alligator, even though it might be one not large enough to swallow me at a gulp. I saw that Gerald was more excited than usual: as he held his horse's bridle, he kept stamping and moving about in his eagerness. I exerted myself to the utmost, and at length had the satisfaction of finding my horse's feet touch the shore; when I immediately scrambled on its back and rode up the bank.

"Look there!" cried Gerald; "that brute would be a more unpleasant opponent than even a big alligator."

He pointed, as he spoke, to a huge serpent--which, I concluded, was a boa-constrictor--coiled round the broken stem of a palm-tree, and, with head erect, floating leisurely down the river.

"I only wish it would come nearer!" exclaimed Gerald. "I think I could manage to hit it and blow its head off."

He fired as he spoke, but missed; and the serpent, turning its head, gave a hiss at us, though it did not attempt to quit its raft. From the way it moved its tail, which served as a rudder, I believe that it could easily have guided itself to the shore; and as it was big enough to have crushed not only one of us, but either of our horses, in its powerful folds, I felt especially anxious to avoid it.

Gerald quickly reloaded his weapon. "Fire, Barry--fire!" he cried out; "and if you miss, I'll have another shot."

As the snake, though it was not likely to attack us, might injure other people or destroy some cattle, I took aim and fired; but I merely grazed its head, for it was a small mark to hit with a carbine. The creature then gave a hiss, as if it did not like such treatment, and whisking its tail urged its float towards the bank.

"I say, Barry, the brute's coming towards us," cried Gerald. "I'll have one more shot; and if I miss we'd better gallop off, for these snakes move with fearful rapidity through the grass, and this one might catch hold of us in a way we shouldn't like."

I was glad to find that Gerald was as cautious as he was brave; and considering his advice good, I agreed to take to flight rather than risk an encounter with the serpent on dry land. I might transfix it with my lance, as Saint George did the dragon, but I had no wish to engage in combat with the terrible beast.

While I was reloading my carbine Gerald fired. "Missed again!" he shouted; "now let's gallop for it,--the brute's in earnest, and will have us if he can!"

We turned our horses' heads, and digging our spurs into their flanks, left the serpent, should it land, to search for us in vain.

After going some distance we pulled rein and looked back, but as we could nowhere see it, we concluded that, not discovering us on the shore, it had continued its voyage to wherever it was bound.

"I don't care for human foes, or for any wild animals, but these snakes are my detestation," said Gerald. "The boa and anaconda, and the big tree-snake, are bad enough; but there are others which, on account of their bite, are still worse. There is one called the aques, seldom more than eight or ten feet long, which is the most savage creature imaginable; and its fangs are so deadly that a person seldom lives more than a few hours after being bitten. Not only will the creature spring out upon a passer-by, but it will follow him to a considerable distance, and then fly at his throat and kill him,--unless he has a long stick to defend himself. The Indians and blacks are, with good reason, mortally afraid of the aques. I have often seen them, but never had a fight with one; though I shouldn't care about it, provided I was armed with a long, tough stick."

I confessed that I should not wish to make the near acquaintance of so terrible a reptile; but, young as he was, Gerald had shot a jaguar and a puma (on each occasion while quite alone), and several smaller wild animals--such as black bears, boars, peccaries, and tiger-cats. He had numerous trophies of his skill to exhibit. No wonder that Tim was proud of him. He had greatly the advantage of me as a sportsman; but, though our father and mother had done their best to instruct him, he was sadly behind-hand in general knowledge and book-learning, such as I had had the opportunity of gaining at school. Notwithstanding this, we got on very well together; and there was no fear, I hoped, of our ever falling out. He looked up to me as superior to him in many points, and I regarded him with admiration for his courage and hardihood and excellent temper.

We had proceeded for some way along the banks of the lake, when we caught sight of a boat in the distance, apparently crossing to reach a point ahead of us. We could distinguish four people in the boat, which came on rather slowly. This was accounted for when we made out several horses swimming in the water astern. The lake was bordered by a fringe of reeds, which in some places grew some distance into the water, over which water-fowl of various species winged their flight,--while we observed several pink-tinted flamingoes stalking with long legs in the shallows: and as we were watching the boat, a large flight of these beautiful birds came swooping along through the air.

Being curious to know who was in the boat, we rode slowly on towards the landing-place, from whence, Gerald told me, the road led past the end of the lake to our house. As we reached the spot the boat approached; and looking at the only passenger it contained, I at once recognised the countenance of Dr Stutterheim, while his canine friend Jumbo was standing in the bow of the boat. "What, doctor! is that you?" I shouted out.

"Ah, my young friend, I am very glad to see you," he exclaimed, standing up and waving his hand. "I am coming to take advantage of your invitation. But I will tell you all about it when I get on shore."

In another minute the boat touched the bank; when the doctor, leaping on dry ground, dragged two of his horses out of the water by the long reins which secured them--a black man, whom I found to be his attendant, leading the third. Shaking hands warmly with the doctor, I introduced Gerald, while Jumbo acknowledged me as an acquaintance by leaping up and energetically whisking his tail. The boatmen then assisted in loading the baggage-animals with several chests the doctor had brought; and having paid the men, he dismissed them, and mounted his horse.

"Now, Heliogabalus, follow me; and see that none of the baggage falls off, you black villain," said the doctor.

The black, having examined the thongs which secured the baggage, climbed up on the back of one of the animals, and followed us as we rode on.

"I sometimes call him Heliogabalus," said the doctor; "but he is generally known by the name of Gab, which is a more convenient appellation for ordinary use. I picked him up on the road to Santa Fe. I have no great faith in his honesty; but as I wanted an attendant, I engaged him--though I strongly suspect he is a runaway, and very likely may be reclaimed by his owner."

"I don't admire him for his beauty," I answered. "Now tell me, doctor, to what happy circumstance are we indebted for the pleasure of seeing you so soon?"

"Simply because I found it dangerous to remain longer in Santa Fe," he answered. "I got no practice,--or rather no payment from my patients; and I thought it very probable that I should be led out and shot by the Spaniards on suspicion of being a Liberal, as was the case with many unfortunate people while I was there. I determined, therefore, to continue my journey through the country, and gain a further knowledge of its natural history and productions,--keeping, if possible, out of the way of the combatants. I should have preferred travelling in more peaceable times; but, as life is short, I might not have an opportunity were I to defer my travels till the Spaniards are driven out of the country and peace is restored."

Of course I told him that, under any circumstances, we were very glad to see him; and it at once occurred to me, that should our captive Indian be still alive, the doctor might by his superior skill assist to cure him.

"I have a grand remedy, which, if he has still some breath in his body, is almost sure to succeed," he answered.

"What is it?" I asked.

"To let nature take its course," he replied. "Perhaps your friends have been doctoring him overmuch; but I shall judge when I see him."

It was late when we reached our house, and my father, to whom I had before described the doctor, gave him a hearty welcome.

I was thankful to hear that the Indian was still alive, though in a very weak state; so the doctor was at once taken in to see him. Having examined his wound and felt his pulse, he observed,--"I see all about it. We will give him stimulants, which will set the machine agoing. You have been afraid of fever, and have kept him too low. I will answer for it that in a few days he will be ready to perform his war-dance and flourish his scalping-knife with as much energy as ever."

Norah, who heard this remark, assured the doctor that she believed his patient had become perfectly civilised, mild, and gentle.

"Oh yes, while he is in this house and in your presence, young lady; but let him get back to his old haunts among his savage companions, and he will cut throats with as much zest as ever," replied the doctor.

At the supper-table my father inquired what news the doctor brought from Bogota.

"Judging from the cruelties inflicted on their prisoners, the Spaniards know that they are losing ground," he answered. "It is bad enough when they shoot men taken in arms; but the day before I left I witnessed a sight which made my blood boil with indignation--and I am not apt to feel such sensations, I assure you. A young lady, it appears, residing in the city, was accused of favouring the patriot cause, and of giving information to its leaders--of being a spy, in fact. A letter she had written to Bolivar was stopped, and the bearer confessed that it had been intrusted to him to deliver, by her. She was immediately arrested and brought before the judge. She was young and beautiful--very beautiful indeed, I assure you--and I should have thought that her appearance alone would have softened the heart of the greatest tyrant. I expected to hear her plead her innocence with tears in her eyes, imploring for mercy; but instead, she stood calm and unmoved, and boldly acknowledged herself a patriot, and ready to die, if required, so that she might know her beloved country would gain its freedom. Not one among those collected at the trial dared to utter a word in her favour: she was condemned to die, and was forthwith led out to undergo the sentence just pronounced. She bowed her head proudly, not a limb trembling, not a tear dropping from her eye. It was granted her, as a favour, that she should be shot, on account of her rank and the high estimation in which she was held. A priest was sent for; but she refused his services, observing that she had counted the cost, and had made full preparation for the fate which awaited her should she be discovered--her only regret being that she could no longer serve the cause in which she gloried. 'Do you leave no one behind you who will mourn your loss?' asked her military judge, with cruel irony in his tone; for it was known that she was engaged to marry a young and handsome colonel of the Republican army."

"Who was she?" I exclaimed eagerly, my heart sinking as I heard the doctor say this; "what was her name?"

"Donna Paola Salabriata," he answered. "Without being allowed to take a last farewell of her friends, or to communicate with any one, she was led out into the great square, followed by a party of soldiers," continued the doctor, not observing my agitation. "She entreated as a favour that her eyes might not be bound; and facing her executioners, she stood with her arms crossed on her fair bosom, without for a moment exhibiting the slightest fear. I could not have believed that any woman would have shown courage so undaunted, and yet be so gentle and modest in all her actions. Stoical and indifferent as I am, I could scarcely refrain from shouting 'To the rescue!' and rushing forward to preserve her; but I remembered in time that I should certainly be shot did I make the attempt. And so, rooted to the spot, and feeling as if I were turning into stone, I waited till the fatal word should be given. Could any being in the form of man, as he beheld that young creature in all her maiden beauty, utter that word? Could those swarthy soldiers, savage as they looked, pull a trigger to deprive her of life? Yes! and the officer--who perhaps was a husband, perhaps a father--in a loud voice, which sounded to me like the shriek of a demon, gave the order to fire. Then came the rattle of musketry and a cloud of smoke; and the fair young girl, pierced by a dozen wounds, sank lifeless on the ground. The officer advanced to ascertain that she was dead, followed by the soldiers, to plunge their bayonets into her had she shown any signs of life. But death had been merciful; and the still lovely corpse--for not a shot had struck her countenance--was placed on a bier, and carried away for interment."

As the doctor finished his thrilling narrative, unable longer to restrain myself, I burst into tears, at the thought of one so young, so lovely, and so devoted to a noble cause, having been thus cruelly put to death. My heart bled, too, for young Colonel Acosta. I reflected on the agony he must endure, the bitter desire for vengeance which must animate his bosom. I little fancied at the time that he was my cousin, and that I should be by his side on the field of battle when, in the hour of victory, he cast his last fond look at the miniature of the lovely girl whom he had hoped one day to make his bride, ere she was foully murdered by those who were now about to be driven for ever from the land. But I anticipate events.

The account we had heard excited feelings of grief and indignation in all our family. Norah was weeping bitterly; she had known Donna Paola. Even had she not known her, she would have wept at the tale, and wished, as I did, to aid in driving our tyrants from the land. I suspect that had my worthy schoolmaster been present, his sympathies would have been with us, and he would not have advised me to remain neutral in the struggle. But I must quit the subject; I cannot, even at the present day, speak of it without a choking sensation rising in my bosom.

The doctor looked surprised at the effect his narrative had produced; and he expressed his regret that he should have spoken of her, when I told him that I had but lately met Donna Paola.

"Now we will talk of something else," he said. "Your brother seems to be a great sportsman for one so young, Mr Barry. I hope that he will assist me in obtaining specimens of natural history, and enable me to gain a further knowledge of the habits of the quadrupeds and quadrumana, and of the feathered tribes, of this region."

"I shall be very happy to accompany you, doctor,--either into the forests, or over the plains, or up the mountains, or on the shores of the lakes,--whenever you wish to go," said Gerald.

"I should be ready to go to-morrow; but I must not neglect my patient," answered the doctor. "And he will require my care for a few days; and trust me, I will do my best to cure him."

The rest of the evening was spent in talking of our proposed shooting-excursion.

Some days elapsed, however, before we could set out. The doctor was most attentive to the wounded Indian, who was now evidently recovering under his superintendence. Still, he seemed to regard Norah as his chief nurse; and though he hesitated to take what the doctor prescribed for him from any one else, he received it willingly from her hands.

At last the doctor pronounced him convalescent, and declared that he no longer needed his care. "And so, my young friends," he said, turning to us, one evening while we sat at supper, "we will lose no more time, out set off immediately. Life is short, remember. '_Carpe diem_' should be the motto of all who desire to gain information."

I agreed to accompany the doctor and Gerald; and before retiring to rest that night we made arrangements. Tim, also, on hearing of our plan, begged to go--being afraid that Gerald would get into some scrape.

The doctor of course intended to take Jumbo. I asked him if Gab was to go also.

"I have not tried him yet, and I think it is possible, if I put a gun into his hands, that he might shoot me instead of a jaguar, should one appear before us," he replied.

I confess I thought that possible, for I did not particularly like the appearance of Mr Heliogabalus.

My father employed a number of blacks on his estate, as did my uncle; for they found them far more trustworthy and industrious than the so-called Christianised natives. Gab soon made himself at home among his fellow-blacks, but they from the first looked upon him with some degree of suspicion, for which I could not account; they very probably had more insight into his character than either his master or I had.

We started early the next morning, with a small quantity of provisions,--consisting chiefly of flour and biscuits,--a pot in which to boil our cocoa, and some cups to drink it out of; some condiments, such as pepper and salt; and plenty of powder and shot. We expected to kill sufficient game to supply ourselves with substantial food. We were all mounted, as we could leg-strap our horses while we shot, or leave them under charge of a black servant, who accompanied us with a sumpter-horse to carry our larger game, as also the skins of any animals the doctor might wish to preserve. We agreed to camp out for a couple of nights, and then return home.

I must not stop to describe the numerous birds we saw on the lake along the shores of which we took our way--the flamingoes, spoonbills, herons, and several varieties of water-fowl. Among others, we saw some little herons as white as snow, which the doctor assured me were great friends of the alligators. Before long we caught sight of a number of these saurians lying on a bank in the sun; and while we were watching them, several of the beautiful birds perched on their backs, and went walking composedly along, as if they mistook them for trunks of trees. The alligators were much smaller than those I had seen in the Magdalena, and both Gerald and Tim assured us that they never attacked human beings.

Having left our horses in charge of our black servant, Chumbo, we set off to get a shot at the wild-fowl, some of which the doctor wanted to stuff, while we agreed they would also serve us for dinner. The reeds being very high, we soon lost sight of each other. I had gone some way, supposing that I was at a distance from my companions, and was on the point of firing at some wild-fowl which rose in the air, when, just close to the water, I heard the doctor shout out in a voice of terror, which I was sure he would not have done without good cause. I rushed forward as fast as I could through the reeds, when what was my horror to see an enormous anaconda, capable of swallowing a foal or a young calf at a gulp, with its head raised within a few feet of his shoulders, and apparently about to seize him in its deadly embrace. Either his gun was unloaded, or terror prevented him from using it.

Hastily ramming a bullet down my fowling-piece, I raised it to fire, hoping earnestly that I might take good aim. My worthy friend's life depended on my doing: so, for in another instant the monster might envelop him in its huge folds. I shall not forget in a hurry the look of horror depicted in the worthy doctor's countenance. Taking steady aim, I fired, and the bullet happily went crashing through the anaconda's head. Though the creature was not killed, its head dropped, and the doctor had time to spring forward and escape its fangs, which almost grazed his arm. I shouted to him while I was reloading my gun. In a moment he was himself again, and imitating my example, got his weapon ready to fire down the serpent's throat should it again lift its head. It quickly gave him an opportunity; and the second shot had the effect of making it roll over and over in a most extraordinary fashion.

I was glad to keep out of its way, and so was the doctor, whom, by making a circuit, I rejoined.

"I hope this marsh is not frequented by other snakes of the same species," he observed. "If it is, I propose that we beat a retreat while we can do so with whole bones. But I should like to have that fellow's skin; it would be a prize worth possessing. However, I don't feel inclined to approach it nearer."

"Nor do I; but probably in a few minutes it will be dead," I said.

"Not quite sure of that," replied the doctor; "serpents have wonderful vitality. But if we could get near enough to cut off its tail, we should soon kill it."

I undertook to make the attempt. Having a sharp axe in my belt, while the doctor stood ready to fire should it raise its head, I rushed forward and severed the tail about six feet from the end. In an instant its movements ceased, and its coils gradually relaxed.

"Bravo, Barry! The piece you've cut off would make a good-sized serpent of itself," shouted the doctor, holding it up. "If we could skin it, we might carry it home."

While we were speaking, Jumbo, who had been at a distance, came jumping up, and barked furiously at the dead serpent. I rather suspect that, having seen the creature, he had bolted--not unwisely, for it would have swallowed him at a gulp. I hinted this to the doctor, who at first repudiated the idea, but acknowledged that Jumbo was more experienced with regard to alligators than anacondas.

Our shots, and shouts had been heard by Gerald and Tim, who now appeared, and congratulated the doctor on his escape.

"I owe it to my friend Barry's coolness and courage," he answered. "I shall ever be grateful to him;" and he described how I had shot the anaconda.

The doctor seemed so anxious to have the skin that we all set to work and cut it off, together with the head. To me it was a disagreeable operation, as I was unaccustomed to it; but the rest of the party took it as a matter of course. Having scraped it as clean as we could, we bore it in triumph to where we had left the horses. They snorted as they saw it, and the animal on whose back we fastened it did not seem much to like its burden. Our negro servant gazed on it with horror and astonishment, declaring that he had never seen so large a serpent.

We agreed that, as there might be others in the neighbourhood, it would be wise not to remain among the reeds, especially as Gerald and Tim had shot as many wild-fowl as we required for supper. We accordingly proceeded on towards a forest which bordered the bank of a stream running into the lake; and here we intended to encamp for the night. _

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