rocks over which the path was traced, torn away by the fall of the avalanche, had in some places given way for a space of more, than six yards, and had rolled over the precipice, opening a frightful chasm.
The ruins left by the avalanche were composed in a great measure of trees, and fragments of rock, which, entangled together, and massed, so to speak, by the branches and the underwood, formed a thick wall on the very edge of the gulf.
It was of no use thinking of forcing the passage with horses and mules.
The soldier with rage struck with his fist the obstacle that he could not destroy, and proceeded to rejoin his companions. After having cast a last look on the chasm, he prepared himself to retreat, when suddenly he thought he heard a sharp and prolonged cry, like that used by the mountaineers of all countries to communicate between themselves, often at considerable distances.
Don Pablo stopped suddenly and listened, but a considerable lapse of time passed, during which he could hear nothing but the horrible sounds of the storm. The soldier supposed that he had been the sport of an illusion, but suddenly the same cry, stronger and nearer, reached his ear, "Good God!" he cried, "Are other Christians lost in the mountains, amidst this horrible tempest?"
He stood for some moments, and cast a searching glance around.
CHAPTER II
BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH
"I am deceived," he murmured, after a few seconds of reflection; "these mountains are deserted, no one would dare to venture so near the Casa-Frama."
At this moment he felt that someone touched him slightly on the shoulder. He turned round trembling; a man had joined him, and was crouching behind him.
It was Don Zeno Cabral.
Since the departure from the camp, the soldier had continually remained in the advanced guard with the three Spaniards, in order to escape the looks of the two ladies, by whom he did not wish to be recognised till the last moment.
"Ah, 'tis you, Don Sebastiao," said Don Pablo; "what do you think of our situation?"
"It is bad – very bad indeed; however, I do not think it desperate," coldly answered the soldier.
"I am persuaded, on the contrary, that it is desperate."
"It may be so; but we are not yet dead."
"No; but pretty near to it."
"Have you thought of a means to escape from the bad position in which we are?"
"I have thought of a thousand; but I have not thought of one which is practicable."
"That is because you have not thought in the right direction, my dear sir. In this world, you know as well as I do, that as long as the heart beats in the breast, there is some resource left, however critical may be the position in which we are placed. The remedy exists. Shall I aid you in doing so?"
"Well! I do not stand on my self-love," answered Don Pablo slightly smiling; "but I believe we shall have difficulty in finding the remedy."
"I am a bold man, as you are yourself. My pride revolts at the thought of dying a ridiculous death in this mousetrap, and I wish to escape – that's all."
"By Jove! You please me by speaking like that; you are really a charming companion."
"You flatter me, señor."
"No. I tell you what I think; rely on me as I rely on you, and we shall do wonders, I am sure."
"Keep your mind easy; we shall do our best, and if we fail, it will only be after having disputed our life inch by inch in a desperate struggle. But first, where are we?"
"We are at a few steps from the Valle del Tambo, where we should already have been in safety a long time ago, had it not been for this cursed avalanche."
"Very well – but," stopping himself suddenly; "did you not hear something?" asked he.
"Yes," answered the Pincheyra; "several times I have heard that noise strike on my ear."
"By Jove! And you have told me nothing of it."
"I feared that I was deceived; besides, you know that the country we are traversing is a desert, and that no one can be here."
"We are here, though, eh?"
"That is not a reason; we are at home, or nearly so."
Don Zeno smiled with irony.
"That is possible; however, till we find to the contrary, let us act as if we were certain of meeting someone."
"If there were other travellers in the neighbourhood, would they not find themselves in the same situation as us, if not worse; and what you take for cries to help us may probably be, on the contrary, cries of distress."
"That is why we ought to assure ourselves of the truth."
"You are right; answer, then, if you think proper."
"Let us wait for a new cry, in order to assure ourselves as much a possible of the direction we ought to turn to in answering."
"Be it so, let us wait," answered the Pincheyra.
They stretched themselves again on the ground, their ears to the earth, listening with the greatest anxiety.
The situation momentarily became more critical; already several horses had been precipitated into the gulf, and it was with extreme difficulty that men and horses could resist the efforts of the tempest, which every moment threatened to carry them away.
However, after some minutes, which appeared to be an age, the two men again heard the cry.
This time it appeared nearer; it was sharp and perfectly distinct.
"It is a cry to help us," said Don Zeno, with joy.
And placing his two hands at the corners of his mouth, so as to carry his voice, he immediately answered by a cry not less shrill, which swept on the wind, echoed and re-echoed, to die away at a great distance.
"You are sure that is a cry to help us that we have just heard?" said the Pincheyra.
"Yes, thank God, it is," answered Zeno Cabral; "and now let us to work, for if we escape from here, master, we shall escape safe and sound; you may take my word for it."
Don Pablo shook his head sadly.
"You still doubt," pursued the hardy partisan in a tone of disdain. "Perhaps you are afraid?"
"Yes, I am afraid," candidly said the Pincheyra; "and I do not think there is anything humiliating in that avowal. I am but a man after all – very weak, and very humble before the anger of God; I cannot prevent my nerves from trembling, nor my heart from sinking."
Zeno Cabral held out his hand to him with a sympathising smile.
"Excuse me, Don Pablo," said he, in a gentle voice, "for having spoken to you as I have. A man must be really brave to avow so candidly that he is afraid."
"Thank you, Don Sebastiao," answered the Pincheyra, affected more than he wished to show. "Act, order, I will be the first to obey you."
"Above all, let us rejoin our companions; we want their aid and their counsel; let us make haste."
The two men then rejoined their companions, crawling on elbows and knees, with the same difficulty they had previously experienced; for although the weather began to brighten, the wind had not ceased to howl with fury, and to sweep the path.
In a few words, Don Pablo Pincheyra put his adherents in possession of the facts of the situation, and imparted to them the feeble hope he himself possessed. All energy had been crushed within them, and they awaited death with stolid apathy.
"There is nothing to expect from these brutes," said Zeno Cabral, with disdain: "fear has neutralised all human sentiments."
"What is to be done, then?" murmured the partisan.
"If it only depended on you and me," pursued Don Zeno – "strong, determined, and active as we are, we should soon know how to escape this peril; but I do not wish to abandon these unhappy Women."
"I