Cross Trails

Book I Chapter Pack

I. OF THE PARCHMENT ON THE PAMPAS . I II. WHAT BEFELL IN THE CALLE PIEDAD . 1 6 III. OF A SUNSET AND A POOL . . -35 IV. THE TRAIL THROUGH THE SAND-DUNES . 45 V. OF THE TRAIL IN THE DESERT . . 60 VI. OF THE FIRE IN THE NIGHT . . 67 VII. OF MAREQUITA AND THE TOLLING OF A BELL 76 VIII. DOWN THE CALLE LIBERTAD . . 94 IX. THE FLIGHT ON THE PAMPAS . . 1 13 X. HOW THE TRAIL LED THROUGH LA NADA . 1 27 XI. OF A BISCACHO HOLE AND OF SUZETTE . 141 XII. CONCERNING JEREMIAH G. HAWKE . .158 XIII. OF SOME DOINGS IN THE DAWN . . 171

Book II

I. HOW A SHEEP-MAN MET A ROUSEABOUT II. OF RATAROA AND A BUSH SUNDAY . III. OF A RATA STUMP AND A SKELETON IV. WHEN THE MILK WAS SPILT . i8i I9I 204 217 vn CONTENTS VIII PACE 23O CHAPTER THE GHOST OF AN OLD TRAIL V. HOW CHARLTON LOST A CHANCE ANP FOUND VI 247 A CHARM 260 IN THE MATTER OF TWO SOULS HOW THEY KEPT ST PATRICK'S DAY . VII. VIII. 270 289 HOW HURIANA PLAYED HER HAND AND LOST HOW THE LONG BEACH KEPT ITS SECRET HOW THEY FOUND THE GOLDEN HILT THE SEARCH FOR THE GOLDEN TIKI OF A RECONCILIATION AND AN OPEN DOOR . THE MEETING AT THE TANIWHA LAKE IX. X. 297 3°8 XI XII. XIII. XIV. XV. 323 342 353 CONCERNING FRIENDS, FOES, A LIE, AND A GLASS O' WHISKY 365 3»3 XVI, ACROSS THE GREAT GULF XVII, XVIII OF THE CROSSING OF DEEP CREEK FORD HOW THE DEAD RODE INTO RATAROA THE FINDING OF THE GOLDEN GALLEON WHEN THE MOON ROSE 392 407 XIX 415 XX 427 XXI THE END OF THE TRAIL

BOOK I CHAPTER

I OF THE PARCHMENT ON THE PAMPAS " O PELL OH ! " cried Edwards, reining in the wiry native -bred horse and kicking his feet out of the big Spanish stirrups ; " hold hard, old man, time for another drink." Tom Spilford turned in the saddle. " Drink away," he said, " I 'm not taking any ; had enough booze last night to last the thick end of a week." " Didn't offer you a drink. I want one myself. You 're made of sun-dried bullock hide and jerked beef and don't require moisture. I do. Where 's that flask ? " "In my pocket," replied Spilford very lazily. "Where's yours ? " "Empty. Hand over Spilford groaned. "What a suction pump it is," he remarked in a com prehensive aside addressed to the pampas at large. " Here you are, soak it up and don't be modest. He stretched his long legs downwards, yawned mightily, and held out a corpulent flask.

Edwards filled the dented cup, emptied it with a nod, and spat with emphasis upon the dusty ground. A "Rot -gut," he remarked with a shudder, looking vindictively at the flask, "rot -gut of the rankest. Pouf ! " "That's right! Pile on the gratitude. Shove a telescope down a gift-horse's throat. I fill you up with wine of the country, and with your belt bulging with my liquor you turn round and call it names ! " "All very well for you, but I haven't a tin-lined tummy " "No, but the capacity, man, the cubic capacity of you " "Well, if you had a head on you like a boiler factory on a contract " " I haven't. That 's my blooming abstemiousness," said Spilford with the virtuous air of a stained-glass saint. "Abstem — ? It's your petrified old skull. You never feel the sun " "The sun — oh yes. We know all about that," said Spilford drily, dismounting as he spoke to straighten his "numnas."

"Ask me another." He readjusted the sheepskin "coccanilla," and tightened up the broad cinch over it again. Then he slowly lit a corn-leaf cigarette and watched the blue smoke wreaths curl up lazily against the glowing sky. Edwards had pocketed the flask, and sitting loosely in the saddle was gazing under his hat-brim out through the white sun-glare across the tawny waves of sunburnt grass. Away to the hot horizon where sky and grass land shimmered into one there was nothing to break the level monotony of the plain. The sun beat down bare and cloudless. The breath of the pampa was heavy with the scent of baked earth and scorched grass, and the only sound was the ceaseless chirrup 01 cicades. Edwards sighed. " I 'm sick of this," he said shortly. Spilford's eye wandered round the circle of the plain.

" It 's a fine country," he said, puffing a smoke-ring against the sun. "An uncommon fine country. There is so much of it, and there is a monotonous misery about it that is particularly pleasant." Edwards grunted. " We 've been six weeks trailing out here, and I can't see what 's to come of it. There 's land here, I admit, and dry grass of sorts, but if we had a hundred thousand acres and money to stock up, we 'd spend a tall pile in getting water ; and when we 'd finished, the Gauchos would steal our cattle and it would be one eternal picnic looking after them." " Same old growl," answered Spilford, kicking im patiently at a tuft of sear grass, "just like you, always hankering after the flesh-pots. Why the devil do you come if you don't like it ? " "I like it well enough," said the other, cocking back his broad-brimmed slouch hat and wiping the sweat from his bronzed forehead.

" But I can't see much in it. If we had coin we — Hullo ! " He broke off suddenly. " What 's up ? " inquired Spilford, looking up at him. For answer Edwards pointed to the south - west. Spilford turned his eyes in the same direction without a word. Against the sky-line two black specks were moving slowly. He gazed long, and his heavy brows met with a look that was not pleasant. "Gauchos?" inquired Edwards laconically. "We'll see," was the brief reply. Spilford mounted as he spoke, and they rode forward at a walk. The specks rose gradually up from beneath the horizon and took the shape of a pair of horsemen. They appeared to be riding at an angle across the line of march of the two friends. "Only two," said Spilford, half to himself. He took a Colt from his pocket, and examined it ; and the chamber shut with a snap that emphasised his next remark.

"Can't trust the devils," he said. "We've had no bother," replied Edwards. "They seem all right if one doesn't play the fool among their ' chinas.' " " H'm. We 're not clear of them yet, my son. If you had seen as much of them as I have you wouldn't love 'em any better," answered Spilford, and the corners of his mouth drew down under the big moustache in a grim smile that gave a formidable jut to the hard-set jaw. Edwards, looking at him, was conscious of an unpleasant emptiness under the breast bone. He was not exactly afraid. He even enjoyed adventure of a prudent kind, but he was by nature peaceable, and had no stomach for unnecessary risks. Nevertheless, like many nervous men, he had great capacity for concealing his nervousness, and he rode on coolly enough. The two horsemen drew nearer.

"Don't seem like Gauchos," he said hopefully, after a pause. "No, not the tall one anyhow," replied Spilford. "Doesn't sit his horse like one." He peered through the sun-glare with wrinkled eyes. "No," remarked Edwards with returning confidence, "that's no Gaucho." "A tenderfoot, by gad!" shouted Spilford. "I can see his choke-bores. Now, what in all-fire can he want out back on the camp?" " A God-forsaken tourist, I expect, who has lost his way and can't find a bobby to put him in a hansom and send him home." "Yes. He has nice brown boots, too, and a brand new English saddle. I can see it shining in the sun." The strangers turned as the two friends drew near, and came towards them. " Looks young," said Spilford. " Fresh from Eton, I '11 bet. Sent round the world in charge of Thomas Cook and a bear-leader.

Must have given the bear leader the slip and gone for a waltz across the pampas on his own." As he spoke the "tenderfoot" rode up, with the uneasy look of a man that has ridden far and is not used to it. He was very big and very young, and his face was fresh with the beefy freshness of a healthy young Englishman, not two years out of a public school. His companion was a swarthy broad-shouldered man who might have been anything from a Neapolitan to a Spanish Gaucho or a half - bred Dutch Malay. He was dressed native fashion in a poncho and blue "chiripas." The four men pulled up. " Buenos dias," said Spilford, to the newcomer. The young man did not recognise his countrymen as such beneath the deep tan on their faces. He turned to his companion who appeared to be a guide. " I say, Pedro, ask them which hotel I should go to in the next town — I forget its name," he said.

" But, senor," said the man, " I told you there is none." "We don't keep a selection of hotels around on the camp," interposed Spilford in English. " By Jove ! you 're English," cried the big youth. " I thought you were — that is — I mean. I beg your pardon, you know, but you are awfully sunburnt," he added, flushing. "All right," replied Spilford with a laugh, "I guess we are pretty highly coloured. Edwards here is black enough for any Gaucho." "You needn't talk, old chap," answered Edwards. " You 're about the colour of a three-year-old meerschaum yourself." "Well," &id Spilford, turning to the newcomer, "we are making for the nearest town on this part of the pampas, and if you are looking for some place to put up you may as well come too. We may find some kind of a pub there." "I want a wash chiefly," answered the young man.

" I 've been riding about over these beastly great plains for nearly three days without once putting up at a decent place where one could get a bath." "Can't guarantee you'll find any very modern sanitary arrangements where we are going. The Gauchos are economical of water, generally wash first and use it for tea after. If we get a place to sleep in we shall be lucky, I reckon." The large youth pulled a long face at that. " I had no idea they were so savage," he said. "Savage? Not a bit. They look upon us as barbarians of the uttermost, and heretics to boot. Are you going far?" asked Spilford, as they rode onward, the three Englishmen in the front, and the guide bringing up the rear. "Yes, I suppose I am. I'm looking fora place called Bahia Bianca. I have an introduction to a man down there."

" You '11 find it a tough journey. You should have gone by rail to Tandil anyhow." " I wanted to see something of the country." "Well, I think you'll see it," said Spilford drily. "All you want, and a bit in hand." "I have come out here to take up land," the boy — for he was little more — answered. He spoke with a slight manner of self-importance that was intended as a counter to the tinge of sarcasm in the other's tone. Spilford smiled slightly. "Going ranching?" he inquired, looking under his eyebrows at the youth. "Yes, I want to farm, and I suppose that's the same thing," the young man said. "Ever been here before?" "No. Fact is — well, I had a row with my people, don't you know; so I came out here to " "To make your fortune," said Spilford, smiling grimly at the simplicity of the lad's candid confidence.

The stalwart minor blushed hugely. " I mean to try," he said stoutly. "Had any experience of ranching?" inquired Spilford, with incredulity in his near eye. " No, not much — that is, none at all. You see I was sent down ; and the governor was in a scot, and I " " Cleared," said the other tersely, before the youngster had time to further amplify his confidences. "Yes, I cleared," he repeated, with a faint deprecating smile. Spilford's brows met heavily. " Look here," he said, with rough-hewn kindness in the steel of his hard face. " Look here — I don't know your name — by the way, mine is Spilford." " Langham," said the young man. " Oh, Langham. Right. Well, I 'm a few years longer in the tooth than you, and I 've seen a bit one way and another, so you won't mind my talking straight. You take my tip, and turn right round now and go home."

The boy shook his head, and looked out across the yellow-brown prairie with a weakening eye, but set lips. " Can't be done," he said quietly. " ' When that I was and a little little boy,' " quoted Spilford to himself. He regarded the bald monotony of the horizon, but his eyes were full of the distance of time and not of space. He sighed. " And every dog his day," he remarked irrelevantly. Edwards looked at him and wondered. " If I were you," he said, turning to Langham, " I 'd lie low till you've been in the country a while and learned the lingo, and got the run of the ropes, before you make up your mind to settle here. ' "Amen," responded Spilford, with a nod. "Amen over par. You go alone on that, my boy." "Oh, thanks awfully," began Langham, unconvinced. " It isn't all beer and skittles on the camp.

It 's a good country, mind you, but a bad crowd," Edwards said, interposing. "But I like roughing it, and all that sort of thing," replied the other; "and I want to get to work as soon as I can." "Did you ever hear a man that had really 'roughed it ' say he liked it ? " asked Spilford. Langham looked self-consciously at the speaker. " Perhaps not," he answered dubiously. " But one can't tell without trying for oneself." "No," growled Spilford, "that's it. Not till we've tried. I heard a yarn once about a girl and an apple and a snake of sorts " Langham paid no heed. " Of course I shall have to go on a farm, or est anda I suppose it is, and learn all about the business for a few months ; I thought of that," he said, patting his own forethought on the back complacently. " You can't make a present of it," Spilford said, following the trail of his own thoughts.

" It must be payed for — and each man pays the price of his own fit." " Eh ? What did you say ? " asked Langham, with a puzzled glance at the speaker. " I mean they don't keep reach-me-down ready-made experience," replied Spilford, and his face puckered to the bite of some thought within. "Wish I had yours," said the lad impulsively. Spilford laughed, with the hard ring of a gun-barrel in his voice. " Not in these, not in these boots. Oh, no ! " he exclaimed ; and there followed a long silence in which the horse-hoofs beat out the miles towards the changeless horizon that never seemed any nearer. " You 're new to this kind of thing, I suppose," said Edwards at length, noticing that Langham shifted un easily in the saddle. " Well, — yes. But I used to ride at home, you know." " Not quite the same thing as the Row, though, is it?"

" Not quite. Those sheepskin things of yours must be rather good for these long distances." " Infernally hot this weather. You ride something pretty solid, don't you ? " " I don't quite know what I ride, but I 'm close on fifteen stone stripped, I think. It's an awful weight," Langham replied, looking down half ruefully, half with a boyish pride, at his huge limbs. " Good in a rough-and-tumble, bad across country, eh?" " Yes. I suppose I could hold my own at close quarters with most," said Langham ; " but it 's beastly to be too big. Wish I were five ten not six feet three." " I say, you fellows," he went on, in order to hide a touch of self-consciousness and to cover a certain fear of appearing boastful, " can you tell me what this is ? " He drew from the breast pocket of his Norfolk jacket a large envelope out of which he took a piece of dirty parchment.

" I picked this up in a little shop in Buenos Ayres," he said, " I don't know that it is much good. I showed it to Pedro there, and he thought it was worthless; said they had cheated me, and wanted me to let him take it back and make the man refund ; but it seemed old, and I rather like those old things, so I stuck to it." As he spoke he handed the parchment to Spilford. It was brown with age and marked all over with damp stains. Evidently it was part of a larger sheet, the upper portion of which appeared to have been burnt away, leaving a part of a rude plan or chart. The whole parch ment was covered with fine cramped writing which even encroached upon the edges of the plan ; and the style of writing was very old. " What do you think it is ? " asked Langham. " Don't know, looks like a played-out chart of kinds with a lot of unreadable writing.

Might be valuable, though." He glanced over his shoulder. The guide was lagging some distance behind. "Look here," he said, turning again to Langham, "where did you pick up that Dago behind there? I don't like his cut much. Know anything about him?" " Oh yes. I found him in Buenos Ayres. He 's a capital fellow — splendid interpreter, you know." " Can you understand Spanish, then ? " " Well no, only the few words I 've picked up here. He does all the talking and paying business with these Spaniards and all that. He talks English fairly well, and French, and he 's no end of use." " Bet he is, and has been fleecing you properly all the time. He 's about dead sure to be in league with half the Gauchos-Malos between here and Bahia." " I don't think so. I assure you I have found him a first-rate guide."

"First-class hangman. If I were you I wouldn't go asking his opinion on any valuables you pick up," said Spilford, turning the parchment in his hand. "No, nor showing them to every stray Gringho you run across either," he added with a grim smile. Langham laughed. "I'm not afraid of you robbing me," he said, "nor Pedro either." n "Don't you trust anyone here," returned Spilford, with a growl in his voice and a kindly glint in his eye. " Not a living soul. If you sleep in the room with me, keep your shooter handy, and — you make that ruffian of yours ride in front when you're alone with him." " I '11 look out," answered Langham with the confidence of callow youth. " He can't play any games with me." But Spilford only whistled softly to himself, and looked at the manuscript in his hand. "Let's have a look at it," said Edwards, reaching out for the parchment.

" Upper part seems to be in old fashioned Spanish," he said, glancing over it, " but it 's nearly rubbed out, and most of it seems to have been burnt. I can't make much of it. The rest seems to be in English, but it is old writing with T for 's' and 'ye 'for 'the.'" " Have you read it ? " asked Spilford of Langham. " Tried to," said Langham, " but I couldn't make much of it. There 's something in it about Drake, though. That would make it pretty old." "Half a minute," said Edwards. "Here's something — ' Port of Lima ' it says. Then a big mildew patch, and 'falling in with an English ship.' Seems to me it is about some old South Sea expedition, and the English may be the translation of the Spanish part that was burnt." He spread the parchment out before him, and studied it closely. " I can make out most of it," he said, looking up.

But Spilford and Langham had ridden on ahead and he was alone. He fell to reading again. The character was legible enough, though in places the text was obliterated by mildew stains. And this is what he read : — "... Port of Lima . . . daye of Novembere and steerd southe seven dayes; butt fallinge in with two Englishe shippes with which wee exchanged shotts and having sustained certain notable injuries from their culverins, we altered oure cours to ye Westt y' we mighte avoid them, oure freyghte beinge of gret valew. For III dayes and nightes they pursued, but ye IV day were they no more in syghte & we shapte oure cours again for ye Strayte of Magalhaen. But y* same nyghte upsprange a gret winde from ye Northe Easte & we must of neede run before itt, a gret sea . inge ...&... manie dayes drave we Southe & Weste not knowinge whither we went.

On ye X day ye storme abated but ye verie colde we sawe sundrie gret ice toward ye Southe. We founde ye ... to be in ye LIII degre of Southe ye winde being in ye Weste we steered Northe Este & by ye favoure of Santes fell in nexte daye with ye Sta. Maria which had lost her mizzen but was otherways safe ye wind now veerd to ye Easte nyghte . . . gret tempest . . . mor Ill dayes . . . but . . . gret sea Sta. Maria about 3 leagues to ye Easte ... in LI deg. of Southe counsel of ye commander of ye Sta. M. of opinion y' we had come Weste neare CCCCCC leagues from ye Str Mag believing we myghte sooner reache ye Hands of Solomon and there repaire oure shippes steere therefor Northe Weste ye winde beinge still Easterlie about ye XXII daye lande foreste to ye mountan tops ye coaste rockie goode Harbour . . .

Indians be men of gret stature of a redde or browne skin to ye shippes in longe canoes or perigua made of ye trunks of gret trees havinge carven prows painted with some redd substance multitude of smaller repaired we oure shippes alsoe obtained goode freshe water across ye Gulphe and landinge certain of oure men founde manie white stones in ye rivers, which I holde maye be Madre del Oro or Mother o' Goold — ye which showeth trulie this lande to be a goodly lande and of a climat kindlie and such as best shoulde afforde bothe Goolde and silvere. We purposed to obtaine mor of these mettals, but ye Indyans were warlyke inclined and we feared surprise, wherfor named we ye Gulph — Golfo del Oro — and departed, havinge sett uppe on shore a Gret Crosse of woode and s ... ye greate Gulphe runninge westwarde and Northe and entering found anchourage.

This gulphe is in ye XL degre of southe and is without doutte ye gulphe of ye Portugais in ye lande of Zelandia Nova founde mor than XX yeares since bye Dias ye shore lowe and sandye ye barbourous people on shore used ceremonyes and manie eville charms being minded to raise a storme to destroye us, they beinge holpen thereto bye Sathanus himselfe, and accordinglie in ye nyghte arose a mightie tempeste with rain and thundere & much lyghtning with a greate sea rollinge in from ye Weste by which it may bee there is open sea to that syde. Then by these eville workings afore said mett we a gret mishapp for ye Sta. Maria did about day breake by deviltry and black magick drag her anchours & or ever saile coulde be gott upon her washt ashore upon y' low coaste, a gret surfs breakinge thereon. Which thinge was very grievous in that we could in no wise succoure her or her crewe but muste ourselves run down ye gulph for oure own saftie.

Thus lost we ye Sta. M gret parte of ye treasure . . . silver above two thousand bars VII chestes sulle of reals of plate . . . sundrie gret bowles alsoe an hundred & two score pezos of golde XL bars of syne goold & a gret image wroughte in massy goolde y' was taken from ye Indians of Peru besyde gret store of howbeit we maye return & ... for she lieth aboute VIII leagues to ye Northe of ye barren Ilande as markt with redde upon ye charte hereto VI fathom . . . therefor some & ...... . drave before ye windes which be verie tempestuous in these seas. Yet are we purposed to " Here the manuscript abruptly broke off at the bottom of the sheet of parchment. There was no name upon it, nor was there any date, only upon the face of the map was written in cramped characters in another hand the following remark :— "Taken from ye Spanish shipp Cacafuogo off ye coaste of Peru by mee when i saild in companie of y' vallyant captan sir Francis Drake and rendered into oure tongue by Dias ye pilott a portugal of Brasil.

R.B." Edwards read and re-read this strange fragment of a bygone time, and up before his brain there rose the picture of that low sandy coast- — a desolate shore, where all day long the dull waves moaned along the strand and where the salt wind piped wofully across the sandy wastes. Vivid as a lightning flash it came, and as quickly passed. He waited for it to return with a kind of longing awe, but it did not come. Had he seen such a place? Was it faint memory or occult fore-knowing ? Some other sense that men reckon not off? Without reason he shuddered and turned sick ; then with a start looked up. His friends were far ahead. The sun was low, and its rays struck red on the silver trappings of a horse that rode at his off-side. Involuntarily he thrust the parchment into his pocket and turned his head.

The dark face of Pedro the guide was at his elbow, and in his eyes was a wolfish look that was photographed on Edwards' brain thereafter. Instantly the look passed, and gave place to a smile that had a sneer in the tail of it. "Vea, seiior," he said, pointing, "beyond there lies the town ! " Edwards looked. The level light gleamed upon a tiled dome that rose out of the tawny sea of grass to the southward. " It will soon be dark," he said, and as he spoke he shivered again. "Let us ride."

Chapter II What Befell In The Calle Piedad

T ESS than an hour later they rode up the narrow *— • dusty streets and into the central Plaza of El Pentecostes. It is a featureless little town, except for the huge church, half-a-dozen sizes too large for the place that occupies the whole north side of the Plaza, and the blue and white tiled dome of which is a landmark for miles across the plains. On the other three sides of the square are low-roofed adobe houses, adorned about window and cornice with the weather-worn wraiths of what must once have been gay colours. The place has the indefinable air of torpor and neglect common to most South American towns, and which has a measure of sadness in it, because it speaks of the decay of a nation and the wreck of an empire that once was the greatest in the world. The sun had set, as the four men rode into the town ; but the brief dusk had not yet passed into darkness.

About the Plaza groups of gaily-dressed men and women were lounging, and talking over the gossip of the town. They broke off their lively chatter to stare at the strangers critically as they passed. "Where is the inn?" called Spilford in Spanish to a group of Gauchos that lounged against the white-washed wall of a "pulperia." "No hay," replied a tall, wiry man, who leaned on the door-post. He spoke sulkily, and there was a whispering among the assembled Gauchos that Spilford thought ominous. "Don't much like the look of these beggars," said Edwards in a low voice, "they seem pretty unfriendly." " Don't show suspicion," replied Spilford in the same cautious tones, at the same time pulling up, but without dismounting. " Well, what will you do ? " he asked, turning to Langham with a smile meant quite as much for the Gauchos as for him.

" Why ? " asked the young man, " we had better go to some hotel. What did those brigands over there say?" "They said there was no pub in the place." "Well, what are we to do?" " Get a feed at this pulperia and make a night of it." Langham's face grew long. " Well, I 'm infernally hungry," he said, " so here goes," and with that he dismounted. Spilford heard a growl from the assembled Gauchos and turned. " Good heavens ! " he said angrily to Langham, " do you want your throat cut ? " "Why, what have I done? " Done ? You 've broken camp etiquette, that 's all, and probably there will be trouble." Meanwhile Edwards rode up to the door of the store, and called, " La casa, la casa." A short black-bearded man looked out. "Buenos noches, amigo," called Edwards. The man bowed. "Buenos noches, senor," he said, "pas' adelante torn' asiento," upon which invitation Edwards, as local polite ness required, dismounted.