CHAPTER XIII--THE MARCH TO THE LOVELESS LAND

On and on hurried Benee now, at his old swinging trot.

On and on beneath the splendid stars, his only companions, that looked so calmly sweet and appeared so near. God's angels surely they, speaking, as they gazed down, words from their home on high, peace and good-will to men, and happiness to all that lived and breathed.

On and on over plains, through moor and marsh, by lake and stream, by forest dark and jungle wild. It was evident that Benee meant to put leagues between himself and the camp of his recent enemies before each star grew beautiful and died; before the fiery sun leapt red above the eastern hills, and turned the darkness into day.

Benee had come onwards with such a rush that even the slimy alligators, by pond or brown lake, left their lairs among the tall nodding reeds and dashed in terror into the water.

Prowling wild beasts, the jaguar and puma, also hurried off at his approach, and many a scared bird flew screaming up into the darkling air.

But Benee heeded nothing. His way lay yonder. That bright particular star away down on the southwestern horizon shone over the great unexplored region of Bolivia.

Morning after morning it would be higher and higher above him, and when it shone at an angle of forty-five degrees he would be approaching the land of the cannibals.

Yes, but it was still a far cry to that country. By the time the sun did rise, and the mists gathered themselves off the valleys and glens that lay low beneath him, Benee felt sadly in want of rest.

He found a tree that would make him a good sleeping place, for the country he was now traversing abounded in hideous snakes and gigantic lizards, and he courted not the companionship of either.

The tree was an Abies of some undefined species.

Up and up crawled Benee, somewhat encumbered by his arms.

He got through a kind of "lubbers' hole" at last, though with much difficulty, and, safe enough here, he curled up with his face to the stem, and was soon so fast asleep that cannons could not have awakened him.

But satisfied Nature got uneasy at last, and far on towards evening he opened his eyes and wondered where he was.

Still only half-awake, he staggered to his feet and made a step forward. It was only to fall over the end of a huge matted branch, but this branch lowered him gently on to the one immediately beneath it, and this down to the next, and so on. A strange mode of progression certainly, but Benee found himself sitting on the ground at last, as safe and sound as if he had come down in a parachute.

Then his recollection came back to him. He sought out some fruit-trees now and made a hearty meal, quenched his thirst at a spring, and once more resumed his journey.

For three days he marched onwards, but always by night. The country was not safe by day, and he preferred the companionship of wild beasts to that of wilder men. In this Benee was wise.

But awaking somewhat earlier one afternoon, he saw far beneath him, a town, and in Benee's eyes it was a very large one.

And now a happy idea struck him. He had money, and here was civilization. By and by he would be in the wilds once more, and among savages who knew nothing of cash. Why should he not descend, mix with the giddy throng, and make purchases of red cloth, of curios, and of beads. He determined to do so.

But it would not do to go armed. So he hid his rifle and pistols in the bush, covering them carefully up with dried grass. Then he commenced the descent. Yes, the little town, the greater part of which was built of mud hovels, was full, and the streets crowded, many in the throng being Spaniards, Peruvians, and Portuguese.

Benee sauntered carelessly on and presently came to the bazaar.

Many of the police eyed him curiously, and one or two followed him.

But he had no intention of being baulked in his purpose.

So he entered a likely shop, and quickly made his purchases.

Wrapping these carefully up, he slung the bundle over his shoulder and left.

He stumbled over a lanky Portuguese policeman a few yards off.

The man would have fallen had not Benee seized him in his iron grasp and brought him again to his equilibrium.

Then he spoke a few words in Bolivian, and made signs that he wished to eat and drink.

"Aguardiente!" said the officer, his eyes sparkling with joy.

He had really harboured some intentions of throwing Benee into the tumble-down old prison, but a drink would be a far better solution of the difficulty, and he cheerfully led the way to a sort of hotel.

And in twenty minutes' time this truly intelligent member of the force and Benee were lying on skin mats with apparently all the good things in this life spread out before them.

The officer was curious, as all such men are, whether heathens or not, to know all about Benee, and put to him a score of questions at least, part of which Benee replied to with a delicate and forgivable fib.

So the policeman was but little wiser at the end of the conversation than he was at the beginning.

About half an hour before sunset, Benee was once more far up on the moorlands, and making straight for the place where he had hidden his guns and ammunition.

But he stopped short and stared with astonishment when, before rounding the corner of the wood, a pistol shot rang out in the quiet air, followed by the most terrible shrieking and howling he had ever listened to.

He hurried on quickly enough now, and as he did so, a whole herd of huge monkeys, apparently scared out of their senses, rushed madly past him.

Close to the jungle he found one of his revolvers. One chamber had been emptied, and not far off lay a baboon in the agonies of death. Benee, who, savage though he was, evidently felt for the creature, mercifully expended another shot on it, and placed it beyond the reach of woe.

He was glad to find his rifle and other revolver intact, but the cartridges from his belt were scattered about in all directions, and strenuous efforts had evidently been made to tear open his leathern ammunition-box.

It took some time to make everything straight again.

Now down went the sun, and very soon, after a short twilight, out came the stars once more.

Benee now resumed his journey as straight as he could across the plateau.

He had not travelled many hours, however, before clouds began to bank up and obscure the sky, and it became very dark.

A storm was brewing, and, ushered in by low muttering thunder in the far distance, it soon came on in earnest.

As the big drops of rain began to fall, shining in the flashes of the lightning like a shower of molten gold, Benee sought the shelter of a rocky cave which was near to him.

He laid him down on the rough dry grass to wait until the storm should clear away.

He felt drowsy, however. Perhaps the unusually good fare he had partaken of in the village had something to do with this; but of late his hardships had been very great indeed, so it is no wonder that now exhausted Nature claimed repose.

The last thing he was conscious of was a long, low, mournful cry that seemed to come from the far interior of the cave.

It was broad daylight when he again awoke, and such an awakening!

Great snowy-breasted owls sat blinking at the light, but all the rocks around, or the shelves thereof, were alive with coiling, wriggling snakes of huge size.

One had twined round his leg, and he knew that if he but moved a muscle, it would send its terrible fangs deep into his flesh, and his journey would be at an end.

Gradually, however, the awful creature unwound itself and wriggled away.

The sight of this snake-haunted cave was too much for even Benee's nerves, and he sprang up and speedily dashed, all intact, into the open air.

----

Notwithstanding his extraordinary adventure in the cave of serpents, the wandering Indian felt in fine form that day.

The air was now much cooler after the storm, all the more so, no doubt, that Benee was now travelling on a high table-land which stretched southwards and west in one long, dreary expanse till bounded on the horizon by ridges of lofty serrated mountains, in the hollow of which, high in air, patches of snow rested, and probably had so rested for millions of years.

The sky was very bright. The trees at this elevation, as well as the fruit, the flowers, and stunted shrubs, were just such as one finds at the Cape of Good Hope and other semi-tropical regions. The ground on which he walked or trotted along was a mass of beauty and perfume, rich pink or crimson heaths, heather and geraniums everywhere, with patches of pine-wood having little or no undergrowth. Many rare and beautiful birds lilted and sang their songs of love on every side, strange larks were high in air, some lighting every now and then on the ground, the music of their voices drawn out as they glided downwards into one long and beautiful cadence.

There seemed to be a sadness in these last notes, as if the birds would fain have warbled for ever and for aye at heaven's high gate, though duty drew them back to this dull earth of ours.

But dangers to these feathered wildlings hovered even in the sunlit sky, and sometimes turned the songs of those speckled-breasted laverocks into wails of despair.

Behold yonder hawk silently darting from the pine-wood! High, high he darts into the air; he has positioned his quarry, and downwards now he swoops like Indian arrow from a bow, and the lark's bright and happy song is hushed for ever. His beautiful mate sitting on her cosy nest with its five brown eggs looks up astonished and frightened. Down fall a few drops of red blood, as if the sky had wept them. Down flutter a few feathers, and her dream of happiness is a thing of the past.

And that poor widowed lark will forsake her eggs now, and wander through the heath and the scrub till she dies.

----

Benee had no adventures to-day, but, seeing far off a band of travellers, he hid himself in the afternoon. For our Indian wanted no company.

He watched them as they came rapidly on towards his hiding-place, but they struck off to the east long before reaching it, and made for the plains and village far below.

Then Benee had his dinner and slept soundly enough till moonrise, for bracing and clear was heaven's ozonic breath in these almost Alpine regions.

Only a scimitar of a moon. Not more than three days old was it, yet somehow it gave hope and heart to the lonely traveller. He remembered when a boy he had been taught to look upon the moon as a good angel, but Christianity had banished superstition, and he was indeed a new man.

After once more refreshing himself, he started on his night march, hoping to put forty miles behind him ere the sun rose.

Low lay the white haze over the woods a sheer seven thousand feet beneath him.

It looked like snow-drifts on the darkling green.

Yet here and there, near to places where the river glistened in the young moon's rays were bunches of lights, and Benee knew he was not far from towns and civilization. Much too near to be agreeable.

He knew, however, that a few days more of his long weary march would bring him far away from these to regions unknown to the pale-face, to a land on which Christian feet had never trodden, a loveless land, a country that reeked with murder, a country that seemed unblessed by heaven, where all was moral darkness, as if indeed it were ruled by demons and fiends, who rejoiced only in the spilling of blood.

But, nevertheless, it was Benee's own land, and he could smile while he gazed upwards at the now descending moon.

Benee never felt stronger or happier than he did this evening, and he sang a strange wild song to himself, as he journeyed onwards, a kind of chant to which he kept step.

A huge snake, black as a winter's night, uncoiled itself, hissed, and darted into the heath to hide. Benee heeded it not. A wild beast of some sort sprang past him with furious growl. Benee never even raised his rifle. And when he came to the banks of a reed-girt lake, and saw his chance of shooting a huge cayman, he cared not to draw a bead thereon. He just went on with his chant and on with his walk. Benee was truly happy and hopeful for once in his life.

And amid such scenery, beneath such a galaxy of resplendent stars, who could have been aught else?

"How beautiful is night! A dewy freshness fills the silent air; No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain, Breaks the serene of heaven. In glory yonder moon divine Rolls through the dark-blue depths, Beneath her steely ray The desert circle spreads, Like the round ocean girdled with the sky. How beautiful the night!"

But almost before he could have believed it possible, so quickly do health and happiness cause time to fly, a long line of crimson cloud, high in the east, betokened the return of another day.

The night-owls and the great flitting vampire bats saw it and retreated to darksome caves. There was heard no longer far over the plain the melancholy howl of the tiger-cat or snarl of puma or jaguar.

Day was coming!

Day was come!