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Updated: June 18, 2025
The wave was speeding on with the rapidity of a racehorse, and the travelers fled before it like a cloud before a storm-wind. They looked in vain for some harbor of refuge, and the terrified horses galloped so wildly along that the riders could hardly keep their saddles. "Anda, anda!" shouted Thalcave, and again they spurred on the poor animals till the blood ran from their lacerated sides.
The supper was not very reviving without drink of any kind, and they tried to make up for the lack of it by a good sleep. But Paganel dreamed of water all night, of torrents and cascades, and rivers and ponds, and streams and brooks in fact, he had a complete nightmare. Next morning, at six o'clock, the horses of Thalcave, Glenarvan and Robert were got ready.
An inexperienced eye might have mistaken them for fireflies, which shine at night in many parts of the Pampas; but Thalcave was not deceived; he knew the enemies he had to deal with, and lost no time in loading his carbine and taking up his post in front of the fence.
"But mind, Paganel, no distractions," added the Major. "Don't you take us to the wrong place to the borders of the Pacific, for instance." "Oh, you insufferable Major; it would serve you right," replied Paganel, laughing. "But how will you manage to understand what Thalcave says, Glenarvan?" he continued.
Was he planning some daring, impossible, mad attempt to repulse the infuriated horde? Glenarvan did not venture to ask. At this very moment the wolves began to change their tactics. The deafening howls suddenly ceased: they seemed to be going away. Gloomy silence spread over the prairie, and made Robert exclaim: "They're gone!" But Thalcave, guessing his meaning, shook his head.
Thalcave and Glenarvan rushed out of the RAMADA. Already the plain had recovered its tranquillity, and all that could be seen of the red wolves was a moving line far away in the distant darkness. Glenarvan sank prostrate on the ground, and clasped his hands despairingly. He looked at Thalcave, who smiled with his accustomed calmness, and said: "Thaouka, good horse. Brave boy.
An immense herd had been suffocated side by side in this enormous bog, and this was not the first occurrence of the kind which had taken place in the Argentine plains. An hour afterward and the field of horns lay two miles behind. Thalcave was somewhat anxiously observing a state of things which appeared to him unusual. He frequently stopped and raised himself on his stirrups and looked
And turning toward the Indian, he said, pointing to the frightened horses, "Let us go together." "No," replied Thalcave, catching his meaning. "Bad beasts; frightened; Thaouka, good horse." "Be it so then!" returned Glenarvan. "Thalcave will not leave you, Robert. He teaches me what I must do. It is for me to go, and for him to stay by you."
And he went on to explain that this PAMPERO is very common in the Argentine plains. It is an extremely dry wind which blows from the southwest. Thalcave was not mistaken, for the PAMPERO blew violently all night, and was sufficiently trying to poor fellows only sheltered by their ponchos. The horses lay down on the ground, and the men stretched themselves beside them in a close group.
Then seizing Thaouka's bridle, he said, "I am going, Thalcave, not you." "No," replied the Patagonian quietly. "I am," exclaimed Glenarvan, snatching the bridle out of his hands. "I, myself! Save this boy, Thalcave! I commit him to you." Glenarvan was so excited that he mixed up English words with his Spanish. But what mattered the language at such a terrible moment. A gesture was enough.
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