6,000 Tons of Gold. Henry Richardson Chamberlain
it was finished, Casimiro went below and aroused Fraser and Brent. It was not yet six o’clock although the sun was almost two hours high. The two men soon made their appearance, surprised to find guests already on board. The Scotchman quickly recognized the three Indians as the chiefs who had joined in their council eight months before and he greeted them warmly. Brent was presented to them and they received him not unkindly. They were all younger men than Casimiro, but past middle life and in the prime of physical vigor. Each was more than six feet tall, well built, muscular, and splendidly developed. In color they were neither as coppery as the North American aborigines, nor as brown as the mulatto.
Their features were of the same general type as Casimiro’s, neither sharply aquiline nor round like a Teuton’s.
Casimiro said to the two white men that he had explained the situation to his brother caciques, including what Fraser had said about the removal of the gold, and that they joined in his own opinions. The younger chiefs expressed immediate interest in the cargo which the ship contained, and while breakfast was being prepared Fraser and Brent displayed to them many of the articles that they had brought. The Indians said that a large number of horses and several of their tribesmen were on shore near by ready to transport the supplies into the interior. The Scotchman assured them that the work should begin that very day.
They ate upon deck, the visitors preferring to squat cross-legged upon the white floor and take their food in native fashion. The captain of the schooner in a spirit of hospitality brought out a bottle of Scotch whisky, with which he was about to regale his savage guests when Fraser caught sight of it. He astonished the skipper with a sharp request to put the liquor quickly out of sight. He explained in English that the chiefs were much prejudiced against white men’s liquors, which had worked great havoc with many of their followers, and that the chances of profitable trading would be much diminished if whisky should be offered to any Indians who might come on board.
In answer to Fraser’s questions, Casimiro said that there were about one hundred members of his tribe in the hills near by and that they had with them some two hundred horses which could be used to carry inland much of the schooner’s cargo. Nearly all the other male Caillitchets were in the vicinity of the Bed of Gold, where they had been engaged for weeks in gathering up and putting the bright metal into caches. The spot lay two days’ journey to the southwest. The chief proposed that a portion of the ship’s cargo should be landed at once, its transportation arranged for, and then the four caciques with Fraser and Brent should ride on ahead to the goal the two white men were so anxious to reach. The plan was adopted.
The Scotchman decided to land first the tools and materials for mining and raft-building. He had brought for the latter purpose nearly one hundred axes, some saws, a large supply of heavy spikes, and a liberal quantity of small wire rope. The Indians were much interested as these articles were brought out and their uses explained. They began evidently to credit more fully Fraser’s confident assertion that the difficulties which had been described were not insurmountable. A yawl-load of miscellaneous articles was made ready at once and with Fraser and Brent on board they followed the canoe of the four chiefs to a landing place about six hundred yards from the ship. They found it in a tiny rock-bound cove with a narrow beach so steep that as the heavy boat ran upon it, the occupants were able to step dry-shod from the bows.
It was a novel experience for Brent, a New Yorker blasé to all the fin de siècle features of civilization, but ignorant a few days before of all but the existence of these savages and their wild, almost untrodden country. Prudence suggested treachery and danger in placing himself thus at the mercy of untried barbarians. He felt no alarm. The streets of New York or Paris or London did not seem to him safer than this virgin wilderness under the protection of its dark-skinned sons. There appeared presently along a faint trail winding up among the rocks others of the Patagonians. They greeted their caciques with a gutteral sound or two and at once assisted in unloading the boat, whose contents they examined with great curiosity.
Casimiro suggested that while the boat returned to the ship for another load, they should visit the native camp not far away. Fraser and Brent followed the old chief for nearly a mile up the steep trail until they came suddenly upon a little plateau still surrounded by hills. The American was astonished to find grazing upon the luxuriant grass a large herd of the finest horses he had ever seen assembled together. His exclamations of admiration pleased the Patagonian. The old man proudly made known to him that his people were the best horsemen and possessed the best horses in all the world. Brent was a lover of horses and a good judge of their qualities. He had not been among the Patagonians twenty-four hours before he was willing to admit without reservation both points of Casimiro’s somewhat sweeping boast. Horsemanship that was a marvel of skill, strength, bravery, recklessness, and endurance was matched only by the speed, training, intelligence, and beauty of the splendid animals that made the wonderful exploits possible.
The American’s attention was divided between the horses and their masters. Three or four score Indians were in the camp, and they watched the white visitors curiously. Nearly all these natives were men of superior physical qualities. Brent thought they would average somewhat greater in height and general proportions than a similar number of Americans or Englishmen, but they were by no means giants. He went about among them without hesitation, and tried to profit by a month’s instruction from Fraser in their native language by expressing his admiration of the horses. Their stoical silence soon gave way to evident surprise and pleasure, both at hearing their own tongue spoken by a white man and by his tribute to their one great pride. The Indians caught several of the finest horses and led them up to the young man for his inspection. He was delighted and his pleasure was so manifest that it soon won the confidence and friendship of the Patagonians. Several of them mounted and performed feats in riding that he had never seen attempted even in the circus-ring. He was so absorbed in the exciting scenes that he was quite loth to accompany his friend back to the boat and would not believe it when he was told he had been for three hours admiring Patagonian horses and horsemanship.
With the help of the Indians and four or five canoes, besides the big yawl, rapid progress was made in discharging the schooner’s cargo. The boxes intended for packing with gold, it was decided to leave on board until after the trip to the interior. On the third day, Brent, Fraser, and the four chiefs started on their journey toward the Cordilleras. Mounted on six of the best horses in the herd they set off at a sharp lope soon after daybreak. Brent had a blanket for a saddle, and the others rode bareback. The two white men and one of the Indians carried rifles; the others were contented with the bolas with which all the Indians were armed. It is a peculiar weapon, if weapon it be called. It consists of two heavy balls of metal or stone connected with a strong thong or cord. The Indians are wonderfully expert in using it against all manner of game or human enemies. They bring down a wild horse at an almost incredible distance. The bola goes flying through the air and twists itself about the fore or hind legs of the running animal throwing it violently to the ground. It is sometimes used also with deadly effect as a single or double slung-shot, the wielder holding the cord in the middle.
The route for many miles over a faint trail was rough and difficult. The country through which they passed was picturesque almost to grandeur. It was far from being the “bleak and uninhabitable region” which the geographies only a few years ago would have us believe was a truthful description of Patagonia. Late in the day the path became smoother and the landscape more even. They were upon a high table-land, fertile and delightful. But nature’s charms had few attractions for Brent during the last three or four hours of the drive. Riding without a saddle for ten or eleven hours with only a brief halt at midday was no joke to a man who had not been on horseback for six months and who was physically quite out of training. For the others in the party, even Fraser, there seemed to be little fatigue in the trip, and Brent did his best to conceal his feelings. There was something very like a twinkle in the eye of old Casimiro, when they finally halted for the night and the American limped very unsteadily from his horse to the spot chosen for a camp-fire. The chief made no comment at the time.
It was a hungry group that did full justice to the supper Cuastro prepared. Some few delicacies from the schooner’s stores had been brought along for the benefit of the two strangers, but the viand which Brent enjoyed most of all was a liberal piece of a tender fillet or steak which was roasted over hot embers.