In Far Bolivia Part 21

He saw the bullet raise the dust some yards ahead of the foe, who paused to gaze upwards in great amazement.

But next shot went home, for Benee had got the range, and one of the five threw up his hands with a shriek, and fell on his face, to rise no more.

Rendered wild by the loss of their companions, the others drew their knives and made a brave start for Benee's trench.

But what could poor savages do against the deadly fire of civilized warfare. When another of their number paid the penalty of his rashness, the other three took fright and went racing and tumbling down the hill so quickly that no more of Benee's shots took effect.

Roland had given Benee a field-gla.s.s before he started, and through this he watched the flying figures for many a mile, noting exactly the way they took, and determining in his own mind to choose a somewhat different route, even though he should have to make a wide detour.

He started downhill almost immediately, well-knowing that these dark-skinned devils would return reinforced to seek revenge.

He knew, moreover, that they could follow up a trail, so he did all in his power to pick out the hardest parts of this great moorland on which to walk.

He came at last to a stream. It was very shallow, and he plunged in at once.

This was indeed good luck, and Benee thought now that Peggy's G.o.d, who paints the sky at sunrise, was really looking after him. He could baulk his pursuers now, or, at least, delay them. For they would not be able to tell in which direction he had gone.

So Benee walked in the water for three miles. This walk was really a leaping run. He would have gone farther, but all at once the stream became very rapid indeed, and on his ears fell the boom of a waterfall.

So he got on sh.o.r.e with all haste.

But for five miles on from the foot of the leaping, das.h.i.+ng, foaming linn, the stream was flanked by acres of round, smooth boulders.

These could tell no tale. On these Benee would leave no trail. He leapt from one to the other, and was rejoiced at last to find that they led him to a forest.

This was indeed a grateful surprise, so he entered the shade at once.

Benee, after his exciting fight and his very long run, greatly needed rest, so he gathered some splendid fruit and nuts, despite the chattering and threatened attacks of a whole band of hideous baboons, and then threw himself down under the shade of a tree in a small glade and made a hearty meal.

He felt thirsty now. But as soon as there was silence once more in the forest, and even the parrots had gone to sleep in the drowsy noontide heat, he could hear the rush of water some distance ahead.

He got up immediately and marched in the direction from which the sound came, and was soon on the pebbled sh.o.r.e of another burn.

He drank a long, sweet draught of the cool, delicious water, and felt wondrously refreshed.

And now a happy thought occurred to him.

Sooner or later he felt certain the savages would find his trail. They would track him to this stream and believe he had once again tried to break the pursuit by wading either up or down stream.

His plan was, therefore, to go carefully back on his tracks and rest hidden all day until, foiled in their attempt to make him prisoner, they should return homeward.

This plan he carried into immediate execution, and in a thicket, quite screened from all observation, he laid him down.

He was soon fast asleep.

But in probably a couple of hours' time he sat cautiously up, and, gently lifting a branch, looked forth.

For voices had fallen on his ear, and next minute there went filing past on his trail no fewer than fifteen well-armed warriors.

They stopped dancing and shouting at the tree where Benee had sat down to feed, then, brandis.h.i.+ng their broad knives, dashed forward to the stream.

They had evidently gone up the river for miles, but finding no trail on the other bank returned to search the down-stream.

In his hiding-place Benee could hear their wild shouts of vengeance-deferred, and though he feared not death, right well he knew that neither his rifle nor revolvers could long protect him against such desperate odds as this.

There was now peace once more, and the shades of evening--the short tropical gloaming--were falling when he heard the savages returning.

He knew their language well.

It was soon evident that they did not mean to go any farther that night, for they were quite tired out.

They were not unprovided with food and drink such as it was, and evidently meant to make themselves happy.

A fire was soon lit in the glade, and by its glare poor Benee, lying low there and hardly daring to move a limb, could see the sort of savages he would have to deal with if they found him.

They were fierce-looking beyond conception. Most of them had long matted hair, and the ears of some carried the hideous pelele. The lobe of each ear is pierced when the individual is but a boy, and is gradually stretched until it is a mere strip of skin capable of supporting a bone or wooden, grooved little wheel twice as large as a dollar. The stretched lobe of the ear fits round this like the tyre round a bicycle wheel.

The faces of these men, although wild-looking, were not positively ill-favoured, though the mouths were large and sensual. But if ever devil lurked in human eyes it lurked in theirs.

They wore blankets, and some had huge chains of gold and silver nuggets round their necks.

Their arms were now piled, or, more correctly speaking, they were trundled down in a heap by the tree.

While most of them lay with their feet to the now roaring fire, a s.p.a.ce was left for the cook, who cleverly arranged a kind of gipsy double-trident over the clear embers and commenced to get ready the meal.

The uprights carried cross pieces of wood, and on these both fish and flesh were laid to broil, while large yams and sweet-potatoes were placed in the ashes to roast.

By the time dinner was cooked the night was dark enough, but the glimmer of the firelight lit up the savages' faces and cast Rembrandtesque shadows far behind.

It was a weird and terrible scene, but it had little effect on Benee, who had often witnessed tableaux far more terrifying than this.

Then the orgie commenced. They helped themselves with their fingers and tore the fish and flesh off with their splendid teeth.

Huge chattees of chicaga, a most filthy but intoxicating beer, now made their appearance. It was evident enough that these men were used to being on the war-path and hunting-field.

The wine or beer is made in a very disgusting manner, but its manufacture, strangely enough, is not confined to Bolivia. I have seen much the same liquor in tropical Africa, made by the Somali Indians, and in precisely the same way.

The old women or hags of the village are a.s.sembled at, say, a chief's house, and large quant.i.ties of cocoanuts and various other fruits are heaped together in the centre of a hut, as well as large, tub-like vessels and chattees of water.

Down the old and almost toothless hags squat, and, helping themselves to lumps of cocoa-nut, &c., they commence to mumble and chew these, now and then moistening their mouths with a little water, the juice is spit out into calabashes, and when these are full of the awful mess they are emptied into the big bin.

It is a great gala-day with these hideous old hags, a meeting that they take advantage of not only for making wine but for abusing their neighbours.

How they cackle and grin, to be sure, as their mouths work to and fro!

How they talk and chatter, and how they chew! It is chatter and chew, chew and chatter, all the time, and the din they make with teeth and tongues would deafen a miller.

When all is finished, the bins are left to settle and ferment, and in three days' time, the supernatant liquor is poured off and forms the wine called chicaga.