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"Chiefs that were all powerful thirty years ago, before they were driven beyond the sierras. Since then they have been reduced to subjection as much as Indians can be, and they scour the plains of the Pampas and the province of Buenos Ayres. I quite share Thalcave's surprise at not discovering any traces of them in regions which they usually infest as SALTEADORES, or bandits."
Paganel wished to get up a splendid spread in honor of the occasion, but as the materials were very scanty, he proposed to Robert to go and hunt in the neighboring forest. Robert clapped his hands at the idea, so they took Thalcave's powder flask, cleaned the revolvers and loaded them with small shot, and set off. "Don't go too far," said the Major, gravely, to the two hunters.
He had been fortunate enough to discover on the banks of the rio a ramada, a sort of enclosure, which had served as a fold for flocks, and was shut in on three sides. A more suitable place could not be found for their night's lodging, provided they had no fear of sleeping in the open air beneath the star-lit heavens; and none of Thalcave's companions had much solicitude on that score.
You understand him, my friends, he means a courageous man." "My father!" exclaimed Robert Grant, and, turning to Paganel, he asked what the Spanish was for, "Is it my father." "Es mio padre," replied the geographer. Immediately taking Thalcave's hands in his own, the boy said, in a soft tone: "Es mio padre." "Suo padre," replied the Patagonian, his face lighting up.
He will save himself!" "And suppose he falls?" said Glenarvan. "He'll not fall." But notwithstanding Thalcave's assurances, poor Glenarvan spent the rest of the night in torturing anxiety.
Glenarvan had supposed Thalcave's refusal of a horse was that he preferred walking, as some guides do, but he was mistaken, for just as they were ready, the Patagonian gave a peculiar whistle, and immediately a magnificent steed of the pure Argentine breed came bounding out of a grove close by, at his master's call. Both in form and color the animal was of perfect beauty.
"And so am I. But we had better push on now, for your illustrious Chateaubriand has put us more than a mile behind." On rejoining their companions, they found Glenarvan busily engaged in conversation with the Indian, though apparently unable to make him understand. Thalcave's gaze was fixed intently on the horizon, and his face wore a puzzled expression.
Nothing could be more agreeable than such a recital to Lady Helena and Mary Grant; and accordingly Lord Glenarvan hastened to satisfy their curiosity going over incident by incident, the entire march from one ocean to another, the pass of the Andes, the earthquake, the disappearance of Robert, his capture by the condor, Thalcave's providential shot, the episode of the red wolves, the devotion of the young lad, Sergeant Manuel, the inundations, the caimans, the waterspout, the night on the Atlantic shore all these details, amusing or terrible, excited by turns laughter and horror in the listeners.
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