Before long, though, he was worrying a great deal more about something else. So far, there had not been a sign anywhere of the Indians’ first pursuers. Uncle Francis, on the other hand, was thoroughly happy, and seemed to be enjoying the scenery.
As they climbed steadily upwards, the road was becoming more and more dangerous, twisting and turning round the mountain-side. Peaks, sky, and precipices; in the blue of the distance, a few mountain goats, all four feet joined together, balancing on some rocky point.
The cold was now intense, and the soldiers grumbled openly. When Natividad reminded them that they were serving “the supreme government,” they let it be inferred that they did not give a tinker’s damn for the supremo gobesnie, but nevertheless followed.
“Are you sure of those men of yours?” asked Uncle Francis.
“As sure as of myself,” replied Natividad, determined to be optimistic.
“Quichuas, of course.... Where else would we get soldiers?”
“They do not seem to me to be enthusiastic militarists.”
“A grave error, señor. They are delighted to be soldiers. What else could they be?”
“They are volunteers, then?” questioned the scientist. And to Natividad’s stupefaction, he produced his note-book.
“No, not volunteers, illustrious señor.... We send troops into the Indian villages, and arrest every able-bodied man who has not bolted. Then we enroll them as volunteers.”
“Charming! And you are not afraid that they may turn on you when you have armed them?”
“Not in the least. After the first few days they decide they are so much better off under the colors that they would not go back to their families for anything.... You should see them join in the recruiting afterwards!... They make very good soldiers.... These men are only annoyed at being taken into the mountains; they would die for Veintemilla.”
“So much the better,” concluded Uncle Francis philosophically. And he added, to Natividad’s growing amazement:--“But why insist on their coming with us? We can find those other Indians just as well without their aid.”
Natividad jumped. What kind of a man was this? Then his attention was suddenly drawn to the road again.
At this point, the mountain path widened to a kind of little plateau, on which were unmistakable traces of a recently-pitched camp. The ashes of the fire had not yet been swept away by the wind, and remains of food littered one corner. Natividad, convinced that he had found the first resting-place of the escort of the Virgin of the Sun, urged on his party.