Дети капитана Гранта / The Children of Captain Grant

“Oh, my Lord, take me,” said Robert.

“But would you be able for it, my boy?”

“Oh, please, my Lord, take me.”

“Come, then, my boy,” said Glenarvan, delighted not to leave Robert behind. “If we three don’t find out fresh water somewhere,” he added, “we must be very stupid.”

“Well, well, and what about me?” said Paganel.

“Oh, my dear Paganel, you must stay with the reserve corps,” replied the Major. “You are too well acquainted with the 37th parallel and the river and the whole Pampas for us to let you go.”

“I resign myself,” said the geographer.

“But mind, Paganel, no distractions,” added the Major. “Don’t you take us to the wrong place—to the borders of the Pacific, for instance.”

“Oh, you insufferable Major,” replied Paganel, laughing. “But how will you understand what Thalcave says, Glenarvan?” he continued.

“I suppose,” replied Glenarvan, “the Patagonian and I won’t have much to talk about; besides, I know a few Spanish words.”

The three horses went forward. Thalcave sat motionless in the saddle, but often turned his head to look at Robert, and gave him a shout of encouragement and approval, as he saw how well he rode. Certainly the boy deserved praise.

“Bravo! Robert,” said Glenarvan. “Thalcave is evidently congratulating you, my boy, and paying you compliments.”

“What for, my Lord?”

“For your good horsemanship.”

“What would papa say to that?” said Robert, laughing. “He wants me to be a sailor.”

“The one won’t hinder the other[78].”

“Poor father,” said Robert; “how he will thank you for saving his life.”

“You love him very much, Robert?”

“Yes, my Lord, dearly. He was so good to me and my sister. We were his only thought: and whenever he came home from his voyages, we were sure of some souvenir from all the places he had been to; and, better still, of loving words and caresses. Ah! If you knew him you would love him, too. Mary is most like him. He has a soft voice, like hers. That’s strange for a sailor, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Robert, very strange.”

“Good, brave papa,” the boy went on, as if speaking to himself. “He put me to sleep on his knee. Ah, my Lord, how we loved him. You will find him?”

“Yes, we’ll find him,” was Glenarvan’s reply, “Thalcave has set us on the track, and I have great confidence in him.”

“Thalcave is a brave Indian, isn’t he?” said the boy.

“That indeed he is.”

“Do you know something, my Lord?

“What is it?”

“That all the people you have with you are brave. Lady Helena, whom I love so, and the Major, with his calm manner, and Captain Mangles, and Monsieur Paganel, and all the sailors on the Duncan. How courageous and devoted they are.”

“Yes, my boy, I know that,” replied Glenarvan.

“And do you know that you are the best of all.”

“No, most certainly I don’t know that.”

About three o’clock a white line appeared in a dip of the road, and seemed to tremble in the sunlight.

“Water!” exclaimed Glenarvan.

“Yes, yes! It is water!” shouted Robert.

They were right; and the horses knew it too, for there was no need now to urge them on.

“Oh, how delicious this is!” exclaimed Robert, taking a deep draught.

“Drink moderately, my boy,” said Glenarvan.

Thalcave drank very quietly, without hurrying himself, taking small gulps. Then he prepared an encampment.

Chapter XIX. The Red Wolves

Night came. The dim light of the stars was all that illumined the plain. The waters of the river ran silently. Glenarvan, Robert, and Thalcave lay in profound slumber on their soft couch of lucerne.

However, the Indian’s sleep did not last long; for at ten o’clock he woke, sat up, and turned his ear toward the plain, listening intently, with half-closed eyes. The horse gave a low neigh, and stretched its nostrils.

This startled the Patagonian, and made him rise to his feet at once.

“The horse scents an enemy,” he said to himself.

He did not wait long, for a strange cry—a confused sound of barking and howling—broke over the Pampas, followed next instant by the report of the carbine.

Glenarvan and Robert woke in alarm, and started to their feet instantly.

“What is it?” exclaimed Robert.

“Is it the Indians?” asked Glenarvan.

“No,” replied Thalcave, “the red wolves of the Pampas.”

Robert drew back involuntarily.

“You are not afraid of wolves, my boy?” said Glenarvan.

“No, my Lord,” said the lad in a firm tone, “and moreover, beside you I am afraid of nothing.”

“Never mind; we are all well armed; let them come. We’ll certainly give them a warm reception,” rejoined Glenarvan.

His Lordship only spoke thus to reassure the child, for a secret terror filled him at the sight of this legion of bloodthirsty animals. There might possibly be some hundreds, and what could three men do against such a multitude?

Thalcave lowered their weapons.

“What does Thalcave mean?” asked Robert.

“He forbids our firing.”

“And why?”

“Perhaps he thinks it is not the right time.”

But this was not the Indian’s reason, and so Glenarvan saw when he lifted the powder-flask[79], showed him it was nearly empty.

“What’s wrong?” asked Robert.

“We can’t fire more than twenty times,” was the reply.

The boy made no reply, and Glenarvan asked him if he was frightened.

“No, my Lord,” he said.

“That’s right,” returned Glenarvan.

“What does Thalcave say?”

“He says that at any price we must hold out till daybreak[80]. The red wolf is a cowardly beast, that loves the darkness and dreads the light—an owl on four feet.”

“Very well, let us defend ourselves, then, till morning.”

The made a fire wall, the wolves could not come nearer. But very soon this means of defense would be at an end. About two o’clock, Thalcave flung his last armful of combustibles into the fire.

The fire was fast dying out, and the end of the terrible drama was approaching. The flames got lower and lower. Thalcave loaded his carbine for the last time, killed one more enormous monster, and then folded his arms. His head sank on his chest, and he appeared buried in deep thought.

At this very moment the wolves began to change their tactics. The howls suddenly ceased: they seemed to be going away. Robert exclaimed:

“They’re gone!”

But Thalcave shook his head. The Indian went up to his horse, who was trembling with impatience. A dark suspicion crossed Glenarvan’s mind as he watched him.

“He is going to desert us,” he exclaimed at last.

“He! Never!” replied Robert. Instead of deserting them, the truth was that the Indian was going to try and save his friends by sacrificing himself.

Glenarvan seized the Patagonian’s arm with a convulsive grip, and said, pointing to the open prairie.

“You are going away?”

“Yes,” replied the Indian, understanding his gesture. Then he said a few words in Spanish, which meant: “A good horse; quick; will draw all the wolves away after it.”

“Oh, Thalcave,” exclaimed Glenarvan.

“Quick, quick!” replied the Indian.

“Robert, my child, do you hear him? He wants to sacrifice himself for us. He wants to rush away over the Pampas, and turn off the wolves from us by attracting them to himself.”

“Friend Thalcave,” returned Robert, throwing himself at the feet of the Patagonian, “friend Thalcave, don’t leave us!”

“No,” said Glenarvan, “he shall not leave us.”

And turning toward the Indian, he said, pointing to the frightened horses, “Let us go together.”

“No,” replied Thalcave, catching his meaning. “Bad beasts; frightened; my horse, good horse.”

“Be it so then![81]” returned Glenarvan. “Thalcave will not leave you, Robert. He teaches me what I must do. It is for me to go, and for him to stay by you.”

Then seizing Thaouka’s bridle, he said, “I am going, Thalcave, not you.”

“No,” replied the Patagonian quietly.

“I am,” exclaimed Glenarvan, snatching the bridle out of his hands. “I, myself! Save this boy, Thalcave! I commit him to you.”

Glenarvan was so excited that he mixed up English words with his Spanish. But the two men understood each other.

Glenarvan was blind and obstinate, and determined to sacrifice himself, when suddenly he felt himself violently pushed back. A clear, young voice called out:

“God save you, my lord!”

“Robert! Oh you unfortunate boy!” cried Glenarvan.

The wolves had dashed off at a tremendous speed on the track of the horse.

Glenarvan sank prostrate on the ground, and clasped his hands despairingly. He looked at Thalcave, who smiled with his accustomed calmness, and said:

“A good horse. Brave boy. He will save himself!”

“And suppose he falls?” said Glenarvan.

“He’ll not fall.”

At four o’clock morning began to dawn. The time for starting had arrived.

“Now!” cried Thalcave, “Come.”

Glenarvan made no reply, but took Robert’s horse and sprung into the saddle. Next minute both men were galloping at full speed toward the west. Soon they came up to the little detachment conducted by Paganel. A cry broke from Glenarvan’s lips, for Robert was there, alive and well, still mounted. The horse neighed loudly with delight at the sight of his master.

“Oh, my child, my child!” cried Glenarvan, with indescribable tenderness in his tone. “He is alive, he is alive.”