"More easily said than done," answered Harris, shaking his head; but d.i.c.k was not to be diverted from his purpose, and, gun in hand, crept into the gra.s.s. He had not advanced many yards before a herd of about a dozen gazelles, graceful in body, with short, pointed horns, dashed past him like a glowing cloud, and disappeared in the underwood without giving him time to take a shot.

"I told you beforehand what you would have to expect," said Harris, as d.i.c.k, with a considerable sense of disappointment, returned to the party.

Impossible, however, as it had been fairly to scrutinize the antelopes, such was hardly the case with another herd of animals, the identification of which led to a somewhat singular discussion between Harris and the rest.

About four o'clock on the afternoon of the same day, the travellers were halting for a few moments near an opening in the forest, when three or four large animals emerged from a thicket about a hundred paces ahead, and scampered off at full speed. In spite of what Harris had urged, d.i.c.k put his gun to his shoulder, and was on the very point of firing, when Harris knocked the rifle quickly aside.

"They were giraffes!" shouted d.i.c.k.

The announcement awakened the curiosity of Jack, who quickly scrambled to his feet upon the saddle on which he was lounging.

"My dear d.i.c.k," said Mrs. Weldon, "there are no giraffes in America!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: A herd of gazelles dashed past him like a glowing cloud.]

"Certainly not," cried Harris; "they were not giraffes, they were ostriches which you saw!"

"Ostriches with four legs! that will never do! what do you say. Mrs. Weldon?"

Mrs. Weldon replied that she had certainly taken the animals for quadrupeds, and all the negroes were under the same impression.

Laughing heartily, Harris said it was far from an uncommon thing for an inexperienced eye to mistake a large ostrich for a small giraffe; the shape of both was so similar, that it often quite escaped observation as to whether the long necks terminated in a beak or a muzzle; besides, what need of discussion could there be when the fact was established that giraffes are unknown in the New World? The reasoning was plausible enough, and Mrs Weldon and the negroes were soon convinced. But d.i.c.k was far from satisfied.

"I did not know that there was an American ostrich!" he again objected.

"Oh, yes," replied Harris promptly, "there is a species called the nandu, which is very well known here; we shall probably see some more of them."

The statement was correct; the nandu is common in the plains of South America, and is distinguished from the African ostrich by having three toes, all furnished with claws. It is a fine bird, sometimes exceeding six feet in height; it has a short beak, and its wings are furnished with blue-grey plumes. Harris appeared well acquainted with the bird, and proceeded to give a very precise account of its habits. In concluding his remarks, he again pressed upon d.i.c.k his most urgent request that he should abstain from firing upon any animal whatever. It was of the utmost consequence.

d.i.c.k made no reply. He was silent and thoughtful. Grave doubts had arisen in his mind, and he could neither explain nor dispel them.

When the march was resumed on the following day, Harris a.s.serted his conviction that another four-and-twenty hours would bring them to the hacienda.

"And there, madam," he said, addressing Mrs. Weldon, "we can offer you every essential comfort, though you may not find the luxuries of your own home in San Francisco."

Mrs. Weldon repeated her expression of grat.i.tude for the proffered hospitality, owning that she should now be exceedingly glad to reach the farm, as she was anxious about her little son, who appeared to be threatened with the symptoms of incipient fever.

Harris could not deny that although the climate was usually very healthy, it nevertheless did occasionally produce a kind of intermittent fever during March and April.

"But nature has provided the proper remedy," said d.i.c.k; and perceiving that Harris did not comprehend his meaning, he continued, "Are we not in the region of the quinquinas, the bark of which is notoriously the medicine with which attacks of fever are usually treated? for my part, I am amazed that we have not seen numbers of them already."

"Ah! yes, yes; I know what you mean," answered Harris, after a moment's hesitation; "they are trees, however, not always easy to find; they rarely grow in groups, and in spite of their large leaves and fragrant red blossom, the Indians themselves often have a difficulty in recognizing them; the feature that distinguishes them most is their evergreen foliage"

At Mrs. Weldon's request, Harris promised to point out the tree if he should see one, but added that when she reached the hacienda, she would be able to obtain some sulphate of quinine, which was much more efficacious than the unprepared bark.

[Footnote: This bark was formerly, reduced to powder, known as "Pulvis Jesuiticus," because in the year 1649 the Jesuits in Rome imported a large quant.i.ty of it from their missionaries in South America.]

The day pa.s.sed without further incident. No rain had fallen at present, though the warm mist that rose from the soil betokened an approaching change of weather; the rainy season was certainly not far distant, but to travellers

[Ill.u.s.tration: A halt was made for the night beneath a grove of lofty trees. ]

who indulged the expectation of being in a few hours in a place of shelter, this was not a matter of great concern.

Evening came, and a halt was made for the night beneath a grove of lofty trees. If Harris had not miscalculated, they could hardly be more than about six miles from their destination; so confirmed, however, was d.i.c.k Sands in his strange suspicions, that nothing could induce him to relax any of the usual precautions, and he particularly insisted upon the negroes, turn by turn, keeping up the accustomed watch.

Worn out by fatigue, the little party were glad to lie down, but they had scarcely dropped off to sleep when they were aroused by a sharp cry.

"Who's that? who's there? what's the matter?" exclaimed d.i.c.k, the first to rise to his feet.

"It is I," answered Benedict's voice; "I am bitten. Something has bitten me."

"A snake!" exclaimed Mrs. Weldon in alarm.

"No, no, cousin, better than that! it was not a snake; I believe it was an orthoptera; I have it all right," he shouted triumphantly.

"Then kill it quickly, sir; and let us go to sleep again in peace," said Harris.

"Kill it! not for the world! I must have a light, and look at it!"

d.i.c.k Sands indulged him, for reasons of his own, in getting a light. The entomologist carefully opened his hand and displayed an insect somewhat smaller than a bee, of a dull colour, streaked with yellow on the under portion of the body. He looked radiant with delight.

"A diptera!" he exclaimed, half beside himself with joy, "a most famous diptera!"

"Is it venomous?" asked Mrs. Weldon.

"Not at all to men; it only hurts elephants and buffaloes."

"But tell us its name! what is it?" cried d.i.c.k impetuously.

The naturalist began to speak in a slow, oracular tone.

"This insect is here a prodigy; it is an insect totally unknown in this country,-in America."

"Tell us its name!" roared d.i.c.k.

"It is a tzetzy, sir, a true tzetzy."

d.i.c.k's heart sank like a stone. He was speechless. He did not, dared not, ask more. Only too well he knew where the tzetzy could alone be found. He did not close his eyes again that night.

CHAPTER XVIII.

A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY.

The morning of the 18th dawned, the day on which, according to Harris's prediction, the travellers were to be safely housed at San Felice. Mrs. Weldon was really much relieved at the prospect, for she was aware that her strength must prove inadequate to the strain of a more protracted journey. The condition of her little boy, who was alternately flushed with fever, and pale with exhaustion, had begun to cause her great anxiety, and unwilling to resign the care of the child even to Nan his faithful nurse, she insisted upon carrying him in her own arms. Twelve days and nights, pa.s.sed in the open air, had done much to try her powers of endurance, and the charge of a sick child in addition would soon break down her strength entirely.

d.i.c.k Sands, Nan, and the negroes had all borne the march very fairly. Their stock of provisions, though of course considerably diminished, was still far from small. As for Harris, he had shown himself pre-eminently adapted for forest-life, and capable of bearing any amount of fatigue. Yet, strange to say, as he approached the end of the journey, his manner underwent a remarkable change; instead of conversing in his ordinary frank and easy way, he became silent and preoccupied, as if engrossed in his own thoughts. Perhaps he had an instinctive consciousness that "his young friend," as he was in the habit of addressing d.i.c.k, was entertaining hard suspicions about him.

The march was resumed. The trees once again ceased to be crowded in impenetrable ma.s.ses, but stood in cl.u.s.ters at considerable distances apart. Now, d.i.c.k tried to argue with himself, they must be coming to the true pampas, or the man must be designedly misleading them; and yet what motive could he have?

Although during the earlier part of the day there occurred nothing that could be said absolutely to justify d.i.c.k's increasing uneasiness, two circ.u.mstances transpired which did not escape his observation, and which, he felt, might be significant. The first of these was a sudden change in Dingo's behaviour. The dog, throughout the march, had uniformly run along with his nose upon the ground, smelling the gra.s.s and shrubs, and occasionally uttering a sad low whine; but to-day he seemed all agitation; he scampered about with bristling coat, with his head erect, and ever and again burst into one of those furious fits of barking, with which he had formerly been accustomed to greet Negoro's appearance upon the deck of the "Pilgrim."