Chapter 12 twelve clues

At eight o'clock the next day, October 22nd, Tarcaf gave the signal for departure.The topography of Argentina, between the 22nd and 42nd south latitude, is a zone that slopes from west to east.Passengers can only walk to the seaside from this slightly sloping downhill road. When the Patagonians declined horses, Glenarvan thought he, like many guides, would prefer to walk.If so, his two long legs must not be difficult to catch up with the horse.However, Greenervan was wrong. At the time of departure, Takaf screamed strangely.A tall, big Argentinian horse, hearing his master's call, immediately ran out of a nearby grove.This horse is very handsome, and its brown-red fur shows that it is a proud, brave and lively horse.The head is light and the neck is thin, the nostrils are wide open, the eyes are bright, the legs are long, the shoulders are high, the chest is high, and the shins are long, which means that it has all the conditions for vigorousness.The major is an expert in horses. He is full of praise for this fine Argentine horse, and thinks it has some similarities with British hunting horses.This fine horse is called Toka, which means bird in Patagonian, and this horse really deserves its name.

The horse pranced as soon as Tarcaf was in the saddle.The Patagonian was a master of horseback riding and had a very good posture on his horse.His equipment consisted of two hunting implements customary in the Argentine plains: one called a paola and the other a lasso.Paola is three balls connected by leather strips, hanging in front of the saddle, Indians can throw paola a hundred paces away to hit the beast he is chasing or wrap the enemy's legs, and immediately stumble.So the paula is a formidable weapon in the hands of the Indian, with which he wields with astonishing dexterity; the lasso, on the contrary, is a weapon which is waved with the hand, and never let go of it.It was just a rope ten meters long, made of two strips of leather, with a slipknot at the end, and strung in a hoop.When in use, the right hand throws the slipknot, and the left hand holds the rope, which end is fastened to the saddle.In addition to the above two weapons, a carbine is carried across the back, which is the full armor of the Patagonians.

Tarcaf's natural and strong posture, such agility, and such ease, everyone praised him, but he didn't care, and ran to the front of the team.The whole team set off, sometimes at a gallop, sometimes at a slow pace, never at a trot, because Argentine horses didn't seem to know this medium pace at all.Robert rode boldly and he showed he had the ability to control the saddle, so Glenarvan quickly put his mind at ease. The flat land of the grassland begins at the foot of the mountain with high and low rocks.It can be divided into three bands.The first zone extends from the Andes to a distance of 400 kilometers, and the whole area is not very tall trees and bushes.The second zone is 720 kilometers wide, covered with dense grass, and extends to a distance of 288 kilometers from Buenos Aires.Since then, all that is trampled under the feet are large tracts of alfalfa and Atractylodes macrocephala, which is the third zone of the grassland.

As soon as they walked out of the high and low Yan'er Mountains, Greenarvan and his party encountered many sand dunes, which the locals call "lost dunes". They keep flying with the wind.The sand is extremely fine, so all it takes is a little wind.The sand, like light smoke, floats up in bursts, or a column of sand surges up, spinning and rising to high altitude.Looking at this scene, what makes people both happy and frightened is that these sand pillars are swaying on the plain, gathering and dispersing, dividing and joining, rising and falling, rising and falling in an indescribable chaos. What’s more interesting than this image is that the sand and dust raised from these drifts are so fine that it’s unfathomable, no matter how tightly your eyes are closed, it will drill into your eyelids.

The north wind was blowing that day, and the sand was blowing for most of the day.Nevertheless they walked quickly, and by six o'clock the High and Low Rocks had been left behind for forty miles, a line of shadows lost in the twilight smog. The pedestrians had walked about 60 kilometers and were a little tired, so they were very happy to see that the time for overnight stay was approaching.They pitched their tents on the banks of the Neukon.This is a swift river with muddy water flowing among red cliffs.The Neukon River, also called the Lami River or the Komo River, rises in the middle of many lakes, the location of which is known only to the Indians.

There was nothing to say that night, and the next day I went on my way as usual.The caravan went swiftly and smoothly.The road is flat and the weather is bearable, so the journey is not difficult.Towards noon, however, the sun warmed up.In the evening, clouds appeared in the southwest sky, which was a harbinger of changes in the weather.The Patagonian was right, and he showed the geographer the western sky. good!I see.said Paganel, and then turning to his traveling companions: The weather is going to change.We are about to encounter a run to the north. Then he explained that Benbeiluo is a southwesterly wind that often occurs on these grasslands in Argentina, and it is very dry.As expected, Takaf was not mistaken, and that night's flight to the north was violently blown up.Travelers wrapped in only one layer of hood are quite miserable. The horses lie on the ground, and the people lie next to the horses, tightly packed.Glenarvan worried.If the storm doesn't stop, it will delay the trip.But Paganel, looking at the barometer, assured him that was not the case.

He said: "Usually, if the temperature drops, Benbeiluo must bring three days of storms.If, as it is now, the mercury column is rising, a few hours of high winds will be fine.Just take it easy, my dear friend, the sky will be clear again at daybreak, as usual. You speak as well as you can in a book, Paganel.Greenervan said. I'm just a book, you just read it. This book is really right.At one o'clock in the night, the wind suddenly stopped, and everyone had a good night's sleep.The next day everyone was in high spirits, especially Paganel, who clattered his joints happily and stretched himself like a puppy.It was the twenty-fourth of October, the tenth day after our departure from Talcahuano.Pedestrians are still 150 kilometers away from the intersection of the Colorado River and the 37th Parallel, that is to say, they have to walk for three days.Along the way Glenarvan watched intently for any natives coming near them.He was eager to ask the natives for news about Captain Grant.Now that Paganel was able to speak Spanish with the Patagonians and knew each other well enough, Tarcaf could act as an interpreter if he wanted to ask the natives for information.But they took a route that the Indians did not usually take, for the great roads in the steppes from the Argentine Republic to the High and Low Rock Mountains were on the north side of this route.

Hence neither nomadic Indians nor those who settled under chiefs were encountered here.Now and then a nomad on horseback appeared in the distance, but he fled as soon as he saw them, for they would not come into contact with strangers.Originally, this group of them made any single passerby on the prairie look suspicious: the robbers would run away when they saw the eight of them fully armed and riding fast horses; would mistake them for robbers.Therefore, it is impossible whether they want to talk to good people or robbers.They would love to meet a gang of robbers, just shoot each other a few times and talk to them later.However, it is a pity that no Indians can be found in order to inquire about the route, but on the other hand, this desolate route leads to another problem in the interpretation of the document, which brings an unexpected proof to the interpretation of the document.

The route taken by the caravan included several paths across the prairies, one of which was quite important, the one from Carmenton to Mendoza.Along the way are the bones of mules, horses, cattle and sheep, pecked to pieces by birds of prey, and eroded to death by the air.There were thousands of bones, and it was inevitable that human bones were mixed with those of livestock, and they all turned into dust. Up to this point, Tarcaf had watched them walk in a straight line without making any comments.But he knew that this straight line neither connected with any road on the grassland, nor did it go to any town, village, or any colony in Argentina.He was a guide, and when he saw that this group of people not only did not let the guide lead the way, but came to guide him, he was naturally surprised.Yet, in spite of his astonishment, he always maintained that reserved attitude inherent in Indians, and he never said a word about the many trails that had been neglected.On this day, he reached the above-mentioned main road, reined in his horse, and finally spoke to Paganel.

This is the way to Carmen.He said. Yes, yes, my good Patagonian.Paganel replied in pure Spanish, this is the road from Carmen to Mendoza. Are we not going this way?Tarcalf asked. No. we are going Go east. There is nowhere to go all the way east. Who knows? Takaf stopped talking, and he looked at the scholar with a look of deep surprise.However, he didn't think Paganel meant the slightest bit of joking.An Indian is always serious, and he never imagines that other people are not serious. Are you going to Carmen?He was silent for a while and asked again. no.Paganel replied. Not to Mendoza?

Nor is it. At this moment Glenarvan caught up with Paganel and asked Tarcalf what he was talking about and why he had stopped. He asked me if we were going to Carmen or Mendoza, and I said neither, which surprised him. In fact, it should have seemed strange to him that we had gone this route.Greenervan said. I believe so too, because he said we had nowhere to go. So, Paganel, can you explain to him the purpose of our expedition?Can you explain to him the point of us going all the way east? This is very difficult. An Indian does not know the latitude and longitude of the earth, and the passage of our discovery of the document, he will think it is a fantasy magical story after hearing it. I want to ask you, the major said seriously, is it the story itself that he doesn't understand?Or is it that the storyteller can't explain clearly so that he can't understand? ah!McNabbs, Paganel replied: You still doubt my Spanish! Since it is well said, let’s try it, my respectable friend. Just try it! Paganel went over to the Patagonian again and tried to tell the whole story.His long speeches were often truncated sometimes because the words could not be found, sometimes because certain details could not be translated, and sometimes because certain details were not easily understood by a half-ignorant person.The scholar looked really interesting.He gesticulated, gnashed his teeth and talked, exhausted his brains and tried his best, and beads of sweat flowed from his forehead to his chest like a waterfall.Finally, unable to speak, he helped with his hands.He jumped off his horse and drew a large map on the sand: this is the line of longitude, that is the line of latitude, intersecting; here is the Pacific Ocean, there is the Atlantic Ocean;Never before has a teacher of geography found such difficulty.Tarcaf watched this performance with a calm attitude all the time, so as not to let others see whether he understood or not.The geographer talked for more than half an hour, and then he stopped, wiped the sweat from his brow, and looked at the Patagonian. Does he understand?Glenarvan asked. Let's see, if he doesn't understand anymore, I have nothing to say. Tarcaf didn't move, didn't say a word, his eyes were fixed on the map on the wind-blown sand. How about it?Paganel asked him. Tarcaf didn't seem to hear him ask.Already Paganel saw a mocking smile play on the major's lips.He was about to renew his efforts to make another geographical explanation in order to win the breath, when the Patagonian stopped him with a wave of his hand. Are you looking for a prisoner?Tarcalf asked. Yes.Paganel answered immediately. Is it on the road from sundown to sunrise?Tarcafe added, in Indian parlance, to determine the route from west to east. Yes, yes, exactly! Did God deliver to the waves of the sea the captive's secret? It was delivered by God himself. Let God's will be done!Tarcaf replied quite seriously that we will go straight east, if necessary, to the end of the sky! Complacent to see that his pupil understood, Paganel immediately translated the Indian's answer for his traveling companions. What a clever race!He added that in our own country, nineteen out of twenty country folks would not understand what I told them! Greenarvan asked Paganel to ask the Patagonian if he had ever heard of foreigners falling into the hands of Indians in the steppes. Paganel asked the same question, and waited for an answer. It seems to have heard of it.said the Patagonian. This sentence was translated, and the seven people gathered around Tarkaf and asked him with their eyes. Paganel was so excited that he was almost speechless, and continued to pursue such an interesting question, his eyes fixed on the solemn Patagonian, and he wished that before he opened his mouth, he would be able to tell him what to say. The answer looks out. For every Spanish word the Patagonian uttered, he said it simultaneously in English, so that it seemed to his traveling companions that Tarcaf was speaking directly in English. What kind of person is this captive?asked Paganel. A foreigner, a European. Have you seen him? No, but the Indians talked about him.He is a good man!Have the heart of a bull! A bull's heart!Paganel exclaimed, Ah!What a Patagonian language!Do you understand, my friends? !That means say a brave man! That is my father!cried Robert. Then he turned to Paganel and asked: That's my father, how do you say that in Spanish? Esmeo Butler.The geographer replied. Immediately, Robert took Tarcalf's hand and said softly: Esmeo Butler! Suo Butler! [Note: Your father! ] Tarcaf said in response, his eyes sparkling. He threw his arms around the boy, lifted him out of the saddle, and studied him with a kind of curious sympathy.There was a calm touch in his intelligent countenance. But Paganel hadn't finished asking him.Where was the captive then?What was he doing then?When had Tarcaf ever heard of him? Many questions came to his mind at the same time. His questions were promptly answered, and he learned that the European was a slave among an Indian tribe that nomadicly ran between the Colorado and Negro rivers. Where is the nearest European?asked Paganel. At the home of Chief Khafgula. Is it on the line we've been following? is on this route. What kind of person is the chief? He is the leader of the Baoyushi tribe in India, and he is a man with two tongues and two hearts! That is to say: he is capricious in his words and capricious in his actions.Paganel explained it this way after translating the Patagonian idiom. Can we get our friends out?he asked again. Maybe, if he's still in Indian hands. When did you hear about it? It's been a long time, two years have passed since I heard about it. Glenarvan's joy was indescribable.This answer matches the date on the document!But there is one more question for Tarcaf.Paganel immediately offered in Spanish: When you speak of one prisoner, are there three at the same time? I don't know about this. Don't you know anything about the prisoner's current situation? Not at all. This sentence ended the whole conversation.Perhaps the three captives had separated long ago.But the data provided by the Patagonian confirm one thing: the Indians used to speak of a European who had fallen into their hands.The date of his capture, and even the place where he was detained, everything, even the Patagonian phrase describing his bravery, clearly pointed out that the European was Harry.grant.The next day, October 25th, the travelers set out again eastward with a renewed excitement.That steppe is often desolate and monotonous, and is known in the native language as Travisia's Endless Clearing.The clay ground, worn by the wind, was so smooth that there was not even a pebble in it, except for a few stones in some dry ditches and in some ponds dug by the Indians.Some sparse bushes are far away from each other. The top of the forest is light black, and a few white cassia trees pop up here and there. There are pods on the trees, and there is a kind of sugary pulp in the pods, which is cool and refreshing. tasty.There were also a few clumps of eucalyptus, channer, wild gorse, and brambles of various kinds, the thinness of which was enough evidence of the barrenness of the soil. The twenty-sixth was a hard day, for they had to go to the Colorado River for the night.The horses were whipped and galloped so fast that that night they reached longitude 69 degrees 45 minutes west, the edge of the beautiful river in the prairies.This river, called Kobilbi in Indian, means big river, and it flows into the Atlantic Ocean after a long process.At the section close to the mouth of the river, there is a strange phenomenon: the closer to the sea, the less water in the river, maybe because the river water is absorbed by the loose soil, maybe evaporated, until now, this is still a mystery. When he arrived at the Colorado River, the first thing Paganel did was to jump into the clay-stained water and take a geographically-style bath.He was surprised that the river was so deep!This is entirely the result of the early summer sun melting the snow!Also, the river is quite wide, so horses cannot swim across it.Fortunately, there is a wooden shed bridge a few hundred meters upstream, and the bridge decks are tied with leather straps and hung on the river.The little party thus crossed the river, and camped overnight on the left bank. Before going to bed, Paganel had to measure the Colorado River correctly, and he drew it with great care on his map.Because he had let the Brahmaputra flow freely in the mountains of Tibet, now he had to map the Colorado River. On the twenty-seventh and twenty-eighth days, nothing happened on the way.The same monotony and poverty is everywhere.The scenery changes very little, and the terrain is dull.However, the soil became very wet.Pedestrians have to cross many water-filled depressions and many swamps.On the night of the twenty-eighth, the horse rested on the shore of a large lake.The water in this lake is full of strong mineral springs. The name of the lake is Lankun Lake, which means bitter lake in Indian language. In 1862, the Argentine army brutally slaughtered the natives here.The traveling party camped as usual.If it weren't for the many monkeys and wild dogs, everyone would have slept comfortably.It's a pity that the monkeys and wild dogs shouted endlessly. They played a natural symphony to welcome these foreign guests, but the ears of these Europeans couldn't appreciate the flavor of the futuristic music.