Дети капитана Гранта / The Children of Captain Grant. Жюль Верн

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don’t distress yourself about that,” replied Paganel, “Portuguese and Spanish are much alike. In a very short time I shall be able to thank the Patagonian in the language he speaks so well.”

      Paganel was right. He soon managed to exchange a few words with the stranger, and found out even that his name was Thalcave[72], a word that signified “The Thunderer.”

      But what rejoiced Glenarvan most was to learn that he was a guide by occupation, and, moreover, a guide across the Pampas.

      When the party went back to Robert, the Patagonian silently laid his hand on his head, and proceeded to examine him with the greatest care, gently feeling each of his aching limbs. Then he gathered a few handfuls of wild celery, which grew on the banks, with which he rubbed the child’s body all over. He handled him with the most exquisite delicacy, and his treatment revived the lad’s strength.

      Happily, Thalcave was a practiced guide, and one of the most intelligent of his class. He undertook to find all that was needed, and offered to take them to Indians, where he could get supplies. This proposition was partly made by gestures, and partly by a few Spanish words which Paganel managed to understand. His offer was accepted, and Glenarvan and his learned friend started off with him at once.

      Thalcave did the bargaining. It did not take long. In exchange for seven ready saddled horses, 100 pounds of dried meat, several measures of rice, and leather bottles for water, the Indians agreed to take twenty ounces of gold.

      Chapter XVI. The News of the Lost Captain

      Next day, the 22nd of October, at eight o’clock in the morning, Thalcave gave the signal for departure. The travelers made good progress and about four o’clock the Cordilleras lay full forty miles behind them. They were all somewhat fatigued with the journey, and glad enough to halt for the night on the banks of the Neuquem[73].

      No incident of any importance occurred that night or the following day. They rode well and fast, finding the ground firm, and the temperature bearable.

      It was the 20th of October, and the tenth day since they had left Talcahuano. They were still ninety miles from the point where the Rio Colorado crosses the thirty-seventh parallel, that is to say, about two days’ journey. Glenarvan kept a sharp lookout for the appearance of any Indians, intending to question them, through Thalcave, about Captain Grant, as Paganel could not speak to him well enough for this.

      In the evening the Patagonian stopped Paganel by a gesture, and asked:

      “You are in search of a prisoner?”

      “Yes,” replied Paganel.

      Glenarvan requested him to ask the Patagonian if he had heard of any foreigners who had fallen into the hands of the Indians of the Pampas.

      Paganel did so, and waited an answer.

      “Perhaps I have.”

      The reply was no sooner translated than the Patagonian found himself surrounded by the seven men questioning him with eager glances. Paganel was so excited, he could hardly find words, and he gazed at the grave Indian as if he could read the reply on his lips.

      Each word spoken by Thalcave was instantly translated.

      “And what about the prisoner?” asked Paganel.

      “He was a foreigner.”

      “You have seen him?”

      “No; but I have heard the Indian speak of him. He is brave; he has the heart of a bull.”

      “The heart of a bull!” said Paganel. “Ah, this magnificent Patagonian language. You understand him, my friends, he means a courageous man.”

      “My father!” exclaimed Robert Grant, and, turning to Paganel, he asked what the Spanish was for, “Is it my father.”

      “Es mio padre,” replied the geographer.

      Immediately taking Thalcave’s hands in his own, the boy said, in a soft tone: “Es mio padre.”

      “Suo padre,” replied the Patagonian.

      He took the child in his arms, lifted him up on his horse, and gazed at him with peculiar sympathy.

      “This prisoner, who was he? What was he doing? When had Thalcave heard of him?” asked Paganel.

      He had not long to wait for an answer, and learned that the European was a slave in one of the tribes that roamed the country between the Colorado and the Rio Negro.

      “But where was the last place he was in?”

      “With the Cacique Calfoucoura[74].”

      “And who is this Cacique?”

      “The chief of the Poyuches Indians[75], a man with two tongues and two hearts.”

      “That’s to say false in speech and false in action,” said Paganel. “And when did you last hear of him?”

      “A long while ago; the sun has brought two summers since then to the Pampas.”

      The joy of Glenarvan can not be described. This reply agreed perfectly with the date of the document. But one question still remained for him to put to Thalcave.

      “You spoke of a prisoner,” he said; “but were there not three?”

      “I don’t know,” said Thalcave.

      “And you know nothing of his present situation?”

      “Nothing.”

      This ended the conversation.

      Chapter XVII. A Serious Necessity

      The Argentine Pampas extend from the thirty-fourth to the fortieth degree of southern latitude. The word “pampa” signifies “grass plain[76]”, and justly applies to the whole region. The mimosas growing on the western part, and the substantial herbage on the eastern, give those plains a peculiar appearance. The soil is composed of sand and red or yellow clay, and this is covered by a layer of earth.

      The horses went on at a good pace through the thick grass of the Pampas, so high and thick that the Indians find shelter in it from storms. Thalcave went first to beat the bushes and frighten away the dangerous snakes, the bite of which kills an ox in less than an hour.

      For two days they plodded steadily across this arid and deserted plain. The dry heat became severe.

      When the Argentines travel in the Pampas they generally dig wells, and find water a few feet below the surface. But the travelers could not fall back on this resource, not having the necessary implements. They were therefore obliged to use the small provision of water they had still left.

      Their slumbers were invaded by a swarm of mosquitoes, which allowed them no peace. Their presence indicated a change of wind which shifted to the north.

      There

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