Читать книгу In the Beginning - Alan Sullivan - Страница 9

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Jean stared and shook till a flood of merciful impulse engulfed her. Then she slipped from her horse, raised the man's head with her arm, and held her pocket-flask to his lips.

It was very difficult. At the taste of spirits he opened his eyes and, staring uncomprehendingly, mumbled something unintelligible—more animal than human. The wound in his side was deep, and the grass beneath him saturated with blood. She was afraid to leave him, death looking so near at hand, so took off her scarf and wound it tightly round his body. Presently she gave him more spirits, while he lay panting, his gaze shifting from her to the horse. He lifted one hand in an uncertain gesture, and she knew what she must attempt.

How she did it she could never tell, but she was fortified by the knowledge that a Gaucho felt better on a horse than on the ground. He lost more blood in the effort, but in a few moments she got him up into the saddle with one long, straining heave. The limp hand felt for the rein. Fifty yards and they were back on the trail. Then commenced the journey to camp.

She made it at sunrise and, sighting it from the top of the ridge, saw Harrop lighting the fire. At her call, which was faint, for she was nearly spent, he ran towards her, mouth open. Her clothing was blood-stained, her face drawn and white with fatigue, and her feet felt like lumps of stinging lead. On the horse balanced the Gaucho, swaying perilously at every step, but even in semi-consciousness aware that he was mounted. The instinct of ages had kept him where he was. Harrop blinked, and snatched at the bridle.

"Gawd, miss, what's happened? Are you hurt?"

"No, not at all. Quite all right. I just went for a ride by myself, and found him there." She waved an arm towards the north. "He was beside the Perdidos trail. Is he going to die?"

Harrop stifled an oath, lifted the man down and examined the wound.

"He won't now, miss—at least, I guess he won't: these fellows are tough—but he couldn't have lasted much longer. Have a drop of tea, and leave him to me. There ain't much blood in him, is there? And, miss, for Gawd's sake don't do that again."

It is written that the desired is often brought about by the unexpected. Had Jean not yielded to that midnight impulse, and found a nearly dead man by the Perdidos trail, the history of the Caxton expedition might have been very different.

The stranger's wound proved to be deep and severe, but not mortal, and he gained strength quickly under Caxton's surgery. When it came to stitching up the big gash he did not even wince, and regarded the operation with unflagging interest. Then he slept, and, waiting, beckoned to Harrop, who had been able to make himself understood. It was not the Gaucho of the pampas that the stranger spoke, but an Andean dialect with a certain resemblance. While the man talked his gaze was fixed on Jean with a sort of dog-like worship. The palaver had lasted for some moments, when Harrop showed signs of unwonted excitement.

"What is it?" asked Caxton.

"He's a Perdidos Gaucho, sir, one of the bunch we've been hearing about. Seems he and some others had been down the Chubut selling cattle, two families of them. There was a row on the way home, and this chap, who is the head of his own lot, got it, as you see, from the headman of the other. It happened at night, three days before Miss Jean found him. I asked him how far from here to his home, and he says two hundred miles—about six days. 'And what's beyond that?' says I. 'You come to the beginning of where the world stops,' says he. And that's as far as I gets, sir."

Caxton's heart quickened a beat.

"Why does it stop? What stops it? You ask him that. I can't follow a word. Find out what you can without telling him anything. And what's his name?"

"Name is Manello. Sort of Spanish, I take it."

The talk went on, Harrop becoming more and more excited. Presently he took a long breath.

"Looks as though we'd struck the place, sir, thanks to Miss Jean. He says that there's a lake fifty miles beyond his village. He's never been to the lake, but his brother has. The brother was very old and died some years ago. It seems there's a river coming in from the west but nothing flowing out, and on the other side—this is what the brother told him—there's a twenty-foot wall of them big spiny things—yes, cactus—that no man nor horse could get through. But it appears that he got part of the way in, and saw enough to make him put about for home as fast as he could leg it. He never said a word about it till just before he died, and that was somewhere down along the Chubut. It's a rum story all round, sir, but it matches with what Lopez said."

"Is he willing to lead us that far? I'll pay him well."

Followed another rapid discussion.

"He says the thought of it turns his bel—his stomach upside down, sir, and he ain't what you call strong yet. He don't want any pay—says Miss Jean paid him already, and he don't like exposing her to danger in return."

"Hear that, Jean?"

She smiled, but was very touched.

"Tell him, Harrop, that I'm not afraid of any animal."

Manello listened, then shook his head, and muttered for some time, his eyes fixed on the girl's face. She was very new and strange to him.

"He says, miss, that it ain't animals—that is, not altogether. He don't let out what it is. There's a sort of fear on him. He says, too, that it partly depends on what he finds at home."

"Can't we help him there?"

"I wouldn't mix up with that end of it, miss. He wants to get his friend alone and unexpected-like, and had better attend to it himself. After that, he'd like, if he can, to pay back what he owes you, and if he don't take us as far as the lake, he'll show us where it is."

"Can you get out of him what kind of animals his brother talked about?" asked Caxton restlessly.

"He won't say, sir, except that what his brother saw made him sit up. What he really wants is to reach his own camp and do his own talking there. Sort of little reappearance he counts on making. After that anything may happen. Better leave it to him, sir."