by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.
STOPPED BY A "RIACHO."
For a time the trackers remain at halt, but without forsaking theirsaddles, pondering upon what course they should pursue, or rather, whatdirection they ought to take.
Only a short while are they undecided. It seems good as certain thatthe Indians have kept to the river, for some distance further on, at allevents. Therefore, it will be time enough to enter upon a moreprolonged deliberation, when they come to a point where this certaintyceases. Thus reflecting, they start off afresh, with their horses'heads as before.
Going at good speed as ever, in a few minutes they arrive at theconfluence of the _arroyo_ with the greater river; the former hererunning between banks less "bluffy" than above, where it passes thecavern. Still they are of sufficient elevation to make a sharp descenttowards the channel of the stream, and a corresponding ascent on itsopposite side. But instead of an impediment, the trackers find this anadvantage; giving them evidence that the Indians have gone across the_arroyo_. For their horses' tracks are distinctly traceable on thesteep faces of both banks; the dust either not having settled there, orbeen washed off by the rain which fell after.
Without difficulty they themselves ride across; for the rapid-runningstream has returned to its ordinary dimensions, and is now quiteshallow, with a firm gravelly bed. Once on its western side, however,and up to the level of the _campo_ beyond, they are again at fault; infact, have reached the point spoken of where all certainty is at an end.Far as they can see before them, the surface is smeared with mud, justas behind, and no sign of a trail visible anywhere. Like enough theIndians have still continued on along the river, but that is by no meanssure. They may have turned up the _arroyo_, or struck off across thepampa, on some route known to them, and perhaps leading more direct towhatever may be their destination.
It is all conjecture now; and upon this they must rely. But the weightof probability is in favour of the pursued party having kept to theriver, and Gaspar is of this opinion. After riding some distance up thewestern bank of the _arroyo_, and seeing no trail or track there, heagain returns to where they had crossed, saying:--
"I think we may safely stick to the river. I'm acquainted with itscourse for at least thirty leagues further up. At about half thatdistance from here it makes a big elbow, and just there, I remember, anold Indian path strikes off from it, to cross a _traveria_. Ha! that'sgood as sure to be the route these redskins have taken. For now, Ithink of it, the path was a big, broad road, and must have beenmuch-travelled by Indians of some kind or other. So, _muchachos_; wecan't do better than keep on to where it parts from the water's edge.Possibly on the _traveria_, which chances to be a _salitral_ as well, wemay find the ground clear of this detestable stuff, and once more hitoff the _rastro_ of these murderous robbers."
His young companions, altogether guided by his counsels, of course offerno objection; and off they again go up the bank of the broad deep river.
Nor less swiftly do they speed, but fast as ever. For they are notimpeded by the necessity of constantly keeping their eyes upon theearth, to see if there be hoof-marks on it. There are none; or if any,they are not distinguishable through the thick stratum of slime spreadover all the surface. But although going at a gallop, they do not getover much ground; being every now and then compelled to pull up--meetingobstructions they had not reckoned upon. These in the shape of numerouslittle streamlets, flowing into the river, most of them still in freshetfrom the late rain. One after another they ford them, none being sodeep as to call for swimming. But they at length come upon one ofgreater depth and breadth than any yet passed, and with banks of such acharacter as to bring them to a dead stop, with the necessity ofconsidering whether it can be crossed at all. For it is a watercourseof the special kind called _riachos_, resembling the _bayous_ ofLouisiana, whose sluggish currents run in either direction, according tothe season of the year, whether it be flood-time or during the intervalsof drought.
At a glance, Gaspar perceives that the one now barring their onwardprogress is too deep to be waded; and if it be possible to pass over it,this must be by swimming. Little would they regard that, nor any morewould their animals; since the pampas horse can swim like an otter, or_capivara_. But, unfortunately, this particular _riacho_ is of a kindwhich forbids even their swimming it; as almost at the same glance, thegaucho observes, with a grunt expressing his discontent. On thestream's further shore, the bank, instead of being on a level with thewater surface, or gently shelving away from it, rises abruptly to aheight of nigh six feet, with no break, far as can be seen, eitherupward or downward. Any attempt to swim a horse to the other side,would result in his being penned up, as within the lock-gates of acanal!
It is plainly impossible for them to cross over there; and, withoutwaiting to reflect further, the gaucho so pronounces it; saying to theothers, who have remained silently watching him:--
"Well, we've got over a good many streams in our morning's ride, butthis one beats us. We can't set foot on the other side--not here, atall events."
"Why?" demands Cypriano.
"Because, as you can see, _senorito_, that water's too deep for wading."
"But what of that? We can swim it, can't we?"
"True, we could; all that and more, so far as the swimming goes. Butonce in there, how are we to get out again? Look at yonder bank.Straight up as a wall, and so smooth a cat couldn't climb it, much lessour horses; and no more ourselves. If 'twere a matter of wading wemight; but, as I can see, all along yonder edge it's just as deep as inmid-stream; and failing to get out, we'd have to keep on plunging about,possibly in the end to go under. _Carramba_! we mustn't attempt to makea crossing here."
"Where then?" demands Cypriano, in torture at this fresh delay, whichmay last he knows not how long.
"Well," rejoins the gaucho, reflectingly, "I think I know of a placewhere we may manage it. There's a ford which can't be very far fromthis; but whether it's above or below, for the life of me I can't tell,everything's so changed by that detestable _tormenta_, and the ugly coatof plaster it has laid over the plain! Let me see," he adds,alternately turning his eyes up stream and down, "I fancy it must beabove; and now I recollect there was a tall tree, a _quebracha_, not farfrom the ford. Ha!" he exclaims, suddenly catching sight of it,"there's the bit of timber itself! I can tell it by that broken branchon the left side. You see that, don't you, _hijos mios_?"
They do see the top of a solitary tree with one branch broken off,rising above the plain at about two miles' distance; and they can tellit to be the well-known species called _quebracha_--an abbreviation of_quebrahacha_, or "axe-breaker," so named from the hardness of its wood.
"Whether it be by wading or swimming," Gaspar remarks in continuance,"we'll get over the _riacho_ up yonder, not far from that tree. So,let's on to it, _senoritos_!"
Without another word, they all wheel their horses about, and move off inthe direction of the _quebracha_.