The road now became difficult, and even perilous. The steepness increased, the walls on either side approached each other more and more, while the precipices yawned frightfully. The mules advanced cautiously in single file, with their noses to the ground, scenting the way.
Now and then, at a sudden turn, the madrina disappeared, and the little caravan was then guided by the distant tinkling of her bell. Sometimes, too, the capricious windings of the path would bend the column into two parallel lines, and the catapaz could talk to the peons, while a crevasse, scarcely two fathoms wide, but two hundred deep, formed an impassable abyss between them.
Under these conditions it was difficult to distinguish the course. The almost incessant action of subterranean and volcanic agency changes the road, and the landmarks are never the same. Therefore the catapaz hesitated, stopped, looked about him, examined the form of the rocks, and searched on the crumbling stones for the tracks of Indians.
Glenarvan followed in the steps of his guide. He perceived, he _felt_, his embarrassment, increasing with the difficulties of the way. He did not dare to question him, but thought that it was better to trust to the instinct of the muleteers and mules.
For an hour longer the catapaz wandered at a venture, but always seeking the more elevated parts of the mountain. At last he was forced to stop short. They were at the bottom of a narrow valley,--one of those ravines that the Indians call "quebradas." A perpendicular wall of porphyry barred their exit.
The catapaz, after searching vainly for a passage, dismounted, folded his arms, and waited. Glenarvan approached him.
"I am not. Here are the remains of a fire made by the Indians, and the tracks left by their horses."
"Yes; but we cannot. The last earthquake has made it impracticable."
"For mules," replied the major; "but not for men."
"That is for you to decide," said the catapaz. "I have done what I could. My mules and I are ready to turn back, if you please, and search for the other passes of the Andes."
Glenarvan listened in silence to the words of the catapaz, who had evidently acted in accordance with his engagement. His mules could go no farther; but when the proposal was made to retrace their steps, Glenarvan turned towards his companions, and said,--