The Purple Land: Being the Narrative of One Richard Lamb's Adventures in The Banda Orientál, in South America, as Told By HimselfHudson, W. H. (William Henry)
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The Purple Land: Being the Narrative of One Richard Lamb's Adventures in The Banda Orientál, in South America, as Told By Himself
Hudson, W. H. (William Henry)
Adventure stories; British -- Uruguay -- Fiction; Uruguay -- Fiction
After leaving Santos I rode on to a belt of wood about two miles east
of the road, and, passing through it, surveyed the country lying beyond.
The only habitation near it was a shepherd's lonely _rancho_, standing
on an open plain of yellow grass, over which a scattered flock of sheep
and a few horses were grazing. I determined to remain in the wood till
near noon, then proceed to the _rancho_ to get breakfast, and commence
my search for a horse and side-saddle in the neighbourhood. After
unsaddling my horse and tying him to a tree, where there were some
pickings of grass and herbage about the roots, I lit a cigar and
made myself comfortable on my rugs in the shade. Presently I had some
visitors in a flock of _urracas_, or magpies, as they are called in the
vernacular, or Guira cuckoos; a graceful, loquacious bird resembling a
magpie, only with a longer tail and a bold, red beak. These ill-mannered
birds skulked about in the branches over me all the time I remained in
the wood, scolding me so incessantly in their intolerably loud, angry,
rattling notes, varied occasionally with shrill whistlings and groans,
that I could scarcely even hear myself think. They soon succeeded in
bringing all the other birds within hearing distance to the spot to take
part in the demonstration. It was unreasonable of the cuckoos, to say
the least of it, for it was now long past their breeding season, so that
parental solicitude could not be pleaded as an excuse for their churlish
behaviour. The others--tanagers, finches, tyrant-birds; red, white,
blue, grey, yellow, and mixed--were, I must own, less troublesome, for,
after hopping about for a while, screaming, chirping, and twittering,
they very sensibly flew away, no doubt thinking their friends the
cuckoos were making a great deal too much fuss. My sole mammalian
visitor was an armadillo, that came hurrying towards me, looking
curiously like a little old bent-backed gentleman in a rusty black
coat trotting briskly about on some very important business. It came
to within three yards of my feet, then stopped, and seemed astonished
beyond measure at my presence, staring at me with its little, bleary,
blinking eyes, and looking more like the shabby old gentleman than ever.
Then it trotted away through the trees, but presently returned for
a second inspection; and after that it kept coming and going, till I
inadvertently burst out laughing, whereupon it scuttled away in great
alarm, and returned no more. I was sorry I had frightened the amusing
little beggar, for I felt in that exceedingly light-hearted mood when
one's merriment is ready to brim over at the slightest provocation. Yet
that very morning poor Demetria's appeal had deeply stirred my
heart, and I was now embarked on a most Quixotic and perhaps perilous
adventure! Possibly the very fact of that adventure being before me had
produced an exhilarating effect on my mind, and made it impossible for
me to be sad, or even decently composed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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