In Far Bolivia: A Story of a Strange Wild Land

CHAPTER XXVI-THE PALE-FACE QUEEN HAS FLED

Leeboo, the young queen, could see that thewoman was flurried and excited.

She stood with her face to the pony and one armwas held aloft in the air. Her eyes were gleaming, and her hat had fallen over her back, allowing herwealth of coal-black hair to escape.

Weenah stood by the saddle.

"I have that to say," exclaimed her mother, in herstrangely musical language, "that must be said speedily.If I am seen we are all doomed. But listen, and listenintently. You are free if you are fortunate. Libertyis at hand. Your friends are twenty miles downstream in camp. Down the stream of Bitter Waters.Ride this way to-morrow, and when far enoughaway take Weenah in your saddle, and gallop foryour life into the forest. Weenah will be your guide."

So quickly did the woman vanish that for a fewmoments our heroine half believed she must have beendreaming.

But she pulled herself together at once, and nowrode back to meet Kaloomah.

She was all smiles too.

"Why waits poor Kaloomah here?" she said, in hersoftest sweetest tones.

Kaloomah placed his hand on the saddle pommel, and panted somewhat. But Kaloomah was in theseventh heaven.

"Say-say-say 'poor Kaloomah' again," he muttered.

"Poor Kaloomah! Poor dear Kaloomah!"

She could even afford to place emphasis on the"dear", she was so happy.

"Oh-ugh!" sighed the savage; "but to-morrow itmay be 'poor dear Kalamazoo!'"

"Ah, you are jealous! A little forest bird ispecking, pecking at your heart. But listen; to-morrow itshall not be Kalamazoo, but Kaloomah once again."

Well, I dare say that love-making is very much thesame all over the wide, wide world, and so we cannoteven laugh at this cannibal if he did bend rapturouslydown and kiss the toe of Leeboo's sandal-shapedstirrup.

"And now, Kaloomah," she added, "I would gathersome wild flowers, and listen for a little while to thesoo-soo's song while you twine my wild flowers intoa garland. My little handmaiden, Weenah, will assistyou.

"But, Kaloomah!" she continued archly.

"Yes, my moon-dream."

"You must not make love to my maiden, else alittle forest bird will peck poor Leeboo's heart topieces and Leeboo die."

—

I hardly think it would be putting it one whit toostrongly to say that the pale-face maiden queen hadturned this savage's head.

They all returned together at last to the palace, andthe queen with her little handmaiden retired to herchamber to dine.

As to Kaloomah, the spirit of pride had got into him, and this is really as difficult to get rid of as if onewere possessed of an evil spirit. So the chief, decoratedwith the garland of wild flowers that Leeboo thequeen had placed around his neck, could not resistthe temptation to parade himself on the plateau beforeKalamazoo's tent. He wished the prince to see him.And the prince did.

The prince, moreover, was strongly tempted torush forth, spear in hand, and slay his rival wherehe stood.

But he remembered in time that Kaloomah was notonly a great chief but a mighty warrior. Over andover again had he led the cannibal army against theglens and valleys of distant highland chiefs. And hehad been ever victorious, his soldiers returning aftera great slaughter of the foe, laden with heads andhams, to hold nights and nights of fearful orgie.

Kalamazoo knew that Kaloomah was the people'sfavourite, and that if he slew him, he himself wouldspeedily be torn limb from limb.

So he was content to gnash his own teeth, to counthis mother's over and over again, and to remain quiescent.

It is seldom indeed that a savage is troubled withsleeplessness, but that night poor Benee was far tooanxious to slumber soundly. For he knew not whatanother day might bring forth. It might be pregnantwith happiness for him and the young girls he lovedso dearly, or it might end in bloodshed and in death.

What a glorious morning broke over the woodlandsat last! Looking eastwards Benee could note a stripof the deepest orange just above the dark foresthorizon. This faded into palest green, and above allwas ethereal blue, with just one or two rosy clouds.And westwards those patches of snow in the hollow ofthe mighty Sierras were pink, with purple shadows.

And this innocent and unsophisticated savage benthimself low on his knees and prayed to Him whois the author of all that is beautiful, to bless hisenterprise and take his little mistress safe awayfrom this blood-stained land of darkness and woe.

He felt better when he rose to his feet. Then heentered the cottage and had breakfast.

"I will come again some day," he said, as his "mother"bade him a tearful farewell. "I will come again andtake Father and you to the far-off happy land of thepale-faces."

So he hied him away to the forest, looking backjust once to wave his hand.

He well knew the road that Weenah and Leeboo-no, let us call her Peggy once more-would take, ifindeed they should succeed in escaping.

He walked towards the river of Bitter Waters therefore, and, journeying for some miles along its wildromantic banks, lay down to wait.

Wild flowers trailed and climbed among the busheswhere he hid; he saw not their bright colours, hewas scarcely sensible of their perfume.

The soo-soo's song was sweet and plaintive; heheard it not.

He was wholly absorbed in thought. So the sun gothigher and higher, and still he waited andwatched-waited and hoped.

Only, ever and anon he would place his ear againstthe hard ground and listen intently.

'Twas noon, and they came not.

Something must have happened. Everything musthave failed.

What should he do? What could he do?

—

But hark! A joyful sound. It was that of a horseat the gallop, and it was coming nearer and nearer.

Benee grasped his rifle.

It must be she. It must, and was poor Peggy, andWeenah was seated behind her.

He looked quickly to his repeating rifle, and pattedthe revolvers in his belt.

"Oh, Benee, Benee! how rejoiced I am!"

"But are you followed, Missie Peggy?"

"No, no, Benee, we have ridden clean and clearaway from the savage chief Kaloomah, and we fearno pursuit."

"Ah, Missie! You not know de savage man. I do.Come. Make track now.

"Weenah," he added. "Oh, my love, Weenah! Butcome not down. We mus' fly foh de cannibal comein force."

It seemed but child's play to Benee to trot lightlyalong beside the pony.

Love, no doubt, made the labour lighter. Besides,on faithful little Dixie's back was all that Benee caredmuch for in the world, Weenah and "Missie Peggy".

True enough, he liked and respected Roland, andDick as well, but they were not all the world tohim as these girls were. And ever since he hadfound Roland and Peggy in the dark forest andrescued them, his little mistress had been in his eyesan angel. Never an unkind word was it possible forher to say to anyone, least of all-so he flatteredhimself-to Benee.

The poor, untutored savage felt, in his happiness, atthis moment, that it would be sweet to die were theloved ones only near to hold his hand.

But he could die, too, fighting for them; ay, fightingto the end. Who was he that would dare touch theground where Peggy or Weenah trod if he-Benee-werethere?

And so they journeyed on and on by the river's sideand through jungle and forest, never dreaming ofdanger or pursuit.

Ah! but wild as a panther was Kaloomah now.

When he found that he was baffled, befooled, deserted, then all his fury-the fury of an untamedsavage-boiled up from the bottom of his heart.

Love! Where was love now? It found no place inthis wild chief's heart; hate had supplanted it, and itwas a hate that must be quenched in blood. Yes, herblood! He would be revenged, and then-well then, the sooner he should die after that the better. Forhis life's sun had gone out, his days could only be daysof darkness now.

Yet how happy had he been only this morning, andhow proud when he stalked forth from his hut andpassed that of Kalamazoo, still wearing the wildflowers with which she had adorned him!

He tore those wild flowers from his neck now, andscattered them to the winds.

Then, as fast and fleet as ever savage ran, he hiedhim back to the palace.

Few had more stentorian lungs than Kaloomah!

"The queen has gone! The white queen has fled!"

That shout awakened one thousand armed men toaction, and in less than an hour they were on the warpath.

CHAPTER XXVII-THE FIGHT AT THE FORT

So toilsome was the road to trace, and so far awaywas the fortified camp of our heroes, that the sunwas almost setting before Benee arrived with hisprecious charge.

Why should I make any attempt to describe themeeting of Roland and Dick with the long-lost Peggy?

Roland and she had always been as brother andsister, and now that they were once more united, allher joy found vent in a flood of tears, which herbrother did what he could to stem.

It seemed hardly possible that she should be heresafe and sound, and in the presence of those wholoved her so well and dearly.

And here, too, was Brawn, who was delirious withjoy, and honest Bill with his meerschaum.

"Oh, surely I shall not awake and find it all adream!" she cried in terror. "Awake and find myselfstill in that awful palace, with its dreadful surroundingsand the odour of death everywhere! Oh-h!"

The girl shuddered.

"Dear Peggy," said Dick tenderly, "this is no dream; you are with us again, and we with you. All thepast is as nothing. Let us live for the future. Is thatright, Roland?"

"Yes, you must forget the past, Peggy," said Roland."Dick is right. The past shall be buried. We areyoung yet. The world is all before us. So come, laugh, and be happy, Peggy."

"And this charming child here, who is she?" saidDick. He alluded to Weenah.

"That is little Weenah, a daughter of the wilds, achild of the desert. Nay, but no child after all, areyou, Weenah?"

Weenah bent her dark eyes on the ground.

"I am nothing," she said. "I am nobody, only-Benee's."

"But, Weenah," said Peggy, taking the girl by thehand, "oh, how I shall miss you when you go!"

"Go?" said Weenah wonderingly.

"Yes, dear, you have a father and a mother, whoare fond of you. Must you not return soon to them?"

"My father and my mother I love," replied Weenah."And you I love, for you have taught me to pray tothe pale-face's God. You have taught me many, manythings that are good and beautiful. My life now isall joy and brightness, and so, though I love mymother and my father, oh! bid me not to leave you."

All this was spoken in the language of the country.It was Greek to those around them, but even Bill couldsee that the dark-eyed maiden was pleading forsomething, for her hand was in Peggy's, her eyes uponhers.

—

It was just at this moment that scouts camehurrying in from the forest, bringing news that wasstartling enough, as well as surprising.

These men had come speedily in, almost as fleet offoot as deer, and the word they brought was that thesavages, at least six hundred strong, were not morethan three hours distant.

Roland showed no excitement, whatever he mightfeel. Nor did Dick. Yet both were ready for action.

Burly Bill, who had been quietly smoking a littleway off, put his great thumb in the bowl of hismeerschaum, and stowed away that faithful companion ofhis in his coat-pocket.

Can a young fellow still in his teens, and whom weolder men are all too apt to sneer at as a mere boy, prove himself a good general. He may and he can, ifhe has grit in him and a head of some sort surmountinghis shoulders.

From what followed I think Roland proved that hewas in possession of both.

Well, he had descended from a long line of hardyCornish ancestors, and there is more in good bloodthan we are apt to believe.

He came to the front now at all events, and Dickand Bill, to say nothing of Benee, Rodrigo, and theother canoe captains, were ready to obey his everycommand.

Roland called a council of war at once, and it didnot take long to come to a decision.

Our chief hero was the principal speaker. Butbrave men do not lose much time in words.

"Boys," he said, "we've got to fight these rascallysavages. That's so, I think?"

"That's so," was the chorus.

"Well, and we've got to beat them, too. We wantto give them something that shall keep them bothquiet and civil until we can afford to send out a fewmissionaries to improve their morals.

"Now, Rodrigo, I cannot force you to fight."

"Force, sir? I need no force. Command me."

"Well, I will. I wish to outflank these beggars.You and our Indians, with Benee as your guide, arejust the men to do so.

"The moon will be up in another hour. It will bethe harvest-moon in England. The harvest-moon here, too-but a harvest, alas! of blood.

"Now, Benee," he continued, "as soon as we areready, guide these men with Captain Rodrigo for somedistance down-stream, then curl round the savages, and when they begin to retreat, or even before that, attack them in the rear. Good luck to you!"

As silently as ghosts two hundred and fifty well-armedIndians, a short time after Roland made thatbrave little speech, glided down the brow of the hill, and disappeared in the woods beyond.

Though our heroes listened, they could not hear asound, not even the crackling of a bush or brokenbranch.

Soon the moon glared red through the topmostboughs of the far-off trees, and flooded all the landwith a light almost as bright as day. The stars above, that before had glittered on the river's rippling breast, and the stars beneath-those wondrous flittingfire-insects-paled before its beams, and the night-birdssought for shelter in caves among the rocks. So overall the prairie and woodlands there fell a stillnessthat was almost oppressive. It was as if Nature heldher breath, expectant of the fight that was to follow.

Nor was that fight very long delayed. But it musthave been well on towards midnight before the firstindication of an approaching foe was made manifest.

Only a long, mournful hoot, away in the bush, andbearing a close resemblance to that of the owl.

It was repeated here and there from differentquarters, and our heroes knew that an attack wasimminent.

There was in the centre of the camp a roomy cave.In this all stores had been placed, with water enoughfor a night at all events, and here were Peggy andWeenah safely guarded by Brawn. Roland hadmanaged to make the darkness visible by lightingtwo candles and placing them on the wall.

In a smaller cave was Peter, and as he had givenevidence lately of a great desire to escape, the boyshad taken the liberty to rope him.

"You shall live to repent this," hissed the manthrough his teeth.

He had thrown overboard all his plausibility now, and assumed his natural self-the dangerous villain.

"Have a care," replied Dick, "or you will not livelong enough to repent of anything."

On one side of the camp was the river, down undera cliff of considerable height. It was very quiet andsluggish just here, and its gentle whispering was nolouder than a light breeze sighing through foresttrees.

There were, therefore, really only three sides of theparapet and hill to defend.

And now Burly Bill's quick ear caught the sound ofrustling down below.

"The savages are on us," he said quietly.

"Then give them a volley to begin with," answeredRoland.

The white men started down scores of huge stones; but this was more for the purpose of bringing thesavages into sight than with a view to wound or kill any.

It had the desired effect, and probably another, forthe cannibals must have believed the pale-faces hadno other means of defence.

They were seen now in the bright moonlightscrambling up-hill in scores, with knives in theirmouths and spears on their backs.

"Fire straight and steadily, men," cried the youngchief, Roland. "Fire independently, and every manat the enemy in front of him."

A well-aimed and rattling volley, followed byanother and another, made the Indians pause. Thenumber of dead and wounded was great, and impededthe progress of those who would have rushed up and on.

Volley after volley was now poured into the savageranks, but they came pressing up from behind asblack and fierce and numerous as a colony ofmountain-ants.

Their yelling and war-cries were terrible to hear.

But the continuous volley-firing still kept themat bay.

"The rockets, Dick, are they ready?"

"Yes, captain, all ready."

"Try the effect of these."

It was a fearful sight to witness those dreadweapons of warfare tear through the ranks of theseshrieking demons.

Death and mutilation was dealt on every side, andthe fire from the ramparts grew fiercer and fiercer.

Yet so terrible in their battle-wrath are thesecannibals, that-well our heroes knew-if they wereto scale the ramparts, even the white men would notbe able to stand against them.

Then the fight would degenerate into a massacre, and this would be followed by an orgie too awful tocontemplate.

At this moment there could not have been fewerthan five hundred savages striving to capture the littlehill on which stood the camp, and Roland's men in allwere barely eighty. Some who had exposedthemselves were speedily brought down with poisonedarrows, and already lay writhing in the agonies ofspasmodic death.

But see, led on by the chief Kaloomah himself, whoseems to bear a charmed life, the foremost ranks ofthose sable warriors have already all but gainedfooting on the ramparts, while with axe and adze thepale-faces endeavour to repel them.

In vain!

Kaloomah-great knife in hand-and at least a scoreof his braves have effected an entrance, and the whites, though fighting bravely, are being pushed, if notdriven back.

It is a terrible moment!

CHAPTER XXVIII-THE DREAM AND THE TERROR!

Far more acute in hearing are these children of thewilds than any white man who ever lived, andnow, just as hope was beginning to die out of evenRoland's heart, a sudden movement on the part of thesavages who had gained admittance caused him tomarvel.

More quickly than they had entered, back theysprang towards the parapet, and on gazing after them, our heroes found that the hill-sides were clear.

It was evident, however, that a great battle wasgoing on down beneath on the prairie.

Explanation is hardly needed.

Rodrigo's men, guided by Benee, had outflanked-nay, even surrounded-the foe, and with well-aimedvolleys had thrust them back and back towards theriver, into which, with wild agonizing shouts, all thatwas left of Kaloomah's army was driven.

They were excellent swimmers, the 'gators wereabsent from this river, and doubtless hundreds offugitives would find their way back into their owndark land to tell how well and bravely the pale-facescan fight.

But Kaloomah, where is he?

Intent on revenge, even while the battle raged thefiercest and the whites were being driven back, his quickeye caught the glimmer of the candle-light in the cave.

Leeboo was there, he told himself, and the falsewitch Weenah.

He shortened his knife, and made a rush for theentrance.

"Hab-a-rabb-rr-rr-ow!" That was the voiceof the great wolf-hound, as he sprang on the would-beassassin and pinned him to the ground.

Kaloomah's knife dropped from his hand as he triedto free himself.

But Brawn had him by the throat now, and had notbrave Peggy sprung to the assistance of the savage, the dog would have torn the windpipe from his neck.

But Kaloomah was prisoner, and when the fight wasall over, the dog was released from duty, and the chiefwas bound hand and foot and placed in the other cavebeside Peter.

This cave, which had thus been turned into a prison, possessed an entrance at the side, a kind of doorwaythrough the dark rocks, and a great hole at the top, through which daylight, or even moonlight, couldstream. At some not very distant date it hadevidently been used as a hut, and must have been thescene of many a fearful cannibal orgie, for scores ofhuman skulls were heaped up in corners, and calcinedbones were also found. Altogether, therefore, anunhallowed kind of place, and eerie beyond conception.

It is as well to tell the truth concerning the battleon the hill-top, ghastly though it may appear. Therewere no wounded men there, for even in the thickof the fight the savages not only slew the white menwho dropped, but their own maimed as well.

So long as the brave fellows under Roland andDick held the ramparts, and poured their volleys intothe ranks of the enemy beneath, scarcely a white manwas hurt; but when the battlements were carried bystorm, then the havoc of war commenced in earnest; and at daylight a great deep trench was excavated, and in this no fewer than eleven white men wereplaced, side by side.

A simple prayer was said, then a hymn wassung-a sad dirge-like hymn to that sacred aircalled "Martyrdom", which has risen in olden timesfrom many a Scottish battle-field, where the heatherwas dripping blood. I take my fiddle and play itnow, and that mournful scene rises up before me, inwhich the white men crowd around the long quietgrave, where their late companions lie sleeping in thetomb.

Every head is bared in the morning sunshine, everyeye is wet with tears.

It is Bill himself who leads the melody.

Then clods are gently thrown upon the dead, andsoon the grave is filled.

—

There was not the slightest apprehension now thatthe battle would be renewed, and so all the day wasspent in getting ready for the long march back to thespot where, under the charge of one of the captainsand his faithful peons, the great canoes had been left.

Among the stores brought here to camp-thesuggestion had emanated from Roland's mother andBeeboo-was a chest containing many changes ofraiment and dresses belonging to Peggy. In the cave, then, both she and Weenah conducted their toilet, andwhen, some time after, and just as breakfast wasabout to be served, they both came out, it wouldhave been difficult, indeed, to keep from exclamationsof surprise.

Even Benee gave way to his excitement, and, seizingWeenah, held her for a moment high in air.

"I rejoice foh true!" he cried. "All ober my heartgo flapperty-flap. Oh, Weenah! you am now all sameone red pale-face lady."

Dick thought Peggy, with her bonnie sun-tannedface, more lovely now than ever he had seen her.

—

But while they are breakfasting, and while themen are quietly but busily engaged getting the storesdown-hill, let us take a peep into the cave where theprisoners are.

When Kaloomah was thrust into the cave, Peterwas fast asleep. Of late he had become utterlytired and careless of life. Was his not a wreckedexistence from beginning to end? This was a questionthat he oftentimes asked himself sadly enough.

During the fight that had raged so long and fiercelyhe had remained perfectly passive. What was it tohim who won or who lost? If the Indians won, hewould speedily be put out of pain. If the white menwere the victors-well, he would probably die justthe same. At all events, life was not worth having now.

Then, when the lull of battle came, when the wildshrieks and shouting were over, and when the rattlingof musketry was no longer heard, he felt utterly tired.He would sleep, he told himself, and what cared heif it should be

 
"The sleep that knows not breaking,
Morn of toil or night of waking"?
 

The cords that bound him hurt a little, but he wouldnot feel their pressure when-he slept.

His was not a dreamless sleep by any means, thougha long one.

His old, old life seemed to rise up before him. Hewas back again in England-dear old England! Hewas a clerk, a confidential clerk.

He had no care, no complications, and he was happy.Happy in the love of a sweet girl who adored him; the girl that he would have made his wife. Poor?Yes, both were; but oh! when one has innocence andsweet contentment, love can bloom in a garret.

Yet envy of the rich began to fill his soul. Theworld was badly divided. Why had he to tread thestreets day after day with muddy boots to his office, and back to his dingy home after long hours of toiland drudgery at the desk?

Oh for comfort! Oh for riches!

The girl that was to be his was more beautiful thanmany who lolled in cushioned carriages, with liveriedservants to attend their beck and call.

So his dream went on, and dreams are but half-wakingthoughts.

But it changes now!

He sees Mary his sweetheart, wan and pale, withtears in her eyes for him whose voice she may neverhear again.

For the tempter has come with gold and withgolden promises.

And he has fallen!

Other men have fallen before. Why not he whenso much was to be gained? So much of-nay, not ofglory, but of gold. What is it that gold cannot do?

A conscience? Yes, he had possessed one once.But this tempter had laughed heartily when he talkedof so old-fashioned a possession. It was all a matterof business.

Behold those wealthy men who glide past in theirbeautiful landaus. Did they have consciences? Ifthey did, then, instead of a town and country house, their home would soon be the garret vile in someback slum in London.

Again the dream changes. To the fearful andawful now. For, stretched out before him is Mary, wan and worn-Mary, DEAD!

He awakes with a shriek, and sits up with his backagainst the black rock.

His hand touches something cold. It is a skull, and he shudders as he thrusts it away.

But is he awake? He lifts his fettered hands andrubs his eyes.

He gazes in terror at someone that is sitting, justas he is, with his back against the wall-and asleep.

The rough dress is all disarranged, and the brownhands are covered with blood. It is an awful vision.

He shuts his eyes a moment, but when he opensthem again the man is still there! The terror!

The morning sun is glimmering in and fallingdirectly on the awful sleeping face.

He sits bolt upright now and leans forward.

"Kaloomah!" he cries. "Kaloomah!"

And his own voice seems to belong to some spiritbehind those prison walls.

But the terror awakes.

And the eyes of the two men meet.

"Don Pedro! You here?"

"Kaloomah. I am."