The Hermit Hunter of the Wilds by Gordon Stables

The crossing of streams, either by swinging bridges or through fords in which the water roared and rushed with the rapidity of a mill-stream, constituted a source of ever-recurring danger. The bridges at times were of even simpler construction than that already described, especially if the stream or chasm were narrow, for then two trees, or perhaps but one, would have to do duty as a support for the cross-pieces of wood; and as these latter were often so rotten that they snapped in two with the weight of a man, it may easily be perceived that the comfort and feeling of security while on them were but slight.

As a rule the natives have but little faith in these frail and fearful structures, and will go a long distance round to find a ford; unless indeed they are intoxicated, which they too often are when a chance occurs. But the bridges as a rule are left standing until they fall with the weight of some unlucky wight.

I have said that the horses were exceedingly sure-footed. So they needed to be; for the tracks in this mountain-land sometimes went winding alongside of frightful precipices, and the danger was quite as great in coming down as in going up.

But a horse occasionally got frightened, and lost for a time all his presence of mind.

One day Tom was riding on in front on just such a pathway as that I have mentioned. It was nowhere more than five feet wide; the mountain rising steep close on one side, the yawning gulf at the other, with bushes clinging to its edges. Stones occasionally came tumbling down from above with a hurtling noise; but when they rolled over the precipice they were heard no more, for they had fallen into space, and the sudden silence was awfully suggestive. Now and then came a sharp angle or curve in the pathway; and here the danger was at its height, for you could no longer see where the road led. You were riding right on to the cliff; and it was impossible to divest the mind of the idea that next moment the horse you bestrode would be pawing the air, as he and you were being hurled to destruction.

It was close to such an eeriesome and uncanny corner as this, and immediately after he had passed it, that Tom found himself face to face with a puma, coming along the narrow pathway with long, stealthy, lynx-like steps. The beast was as much startled as anyone. He emitted one low growl, then immediately turned to fly.

Nothing but instant action could have saved Tom's life now, for the horse reared and swerved half over the cliff, as his rider threw himself off against the hill and clung to some rhododendron bushes. He had not quitted hold of the bridle, and slight though this support was it probably saved his horse. The beast's hind-legs and thighs had almost disappeared. His nostrils were distended, and his eyes seemed to flash dark fire, as for a moment he hung 'twixt life and death. The shuddering, quivering groan the poor brute gave when he once more stood safe on the path was evidence of his appreciation of the terrible danger he had just escaped.

It will be easily seen, therefore, that travelling in Ecuador is fraught with many perils, and one may truly be said to take the road with his life in his hand. As far as our hero was concerned, however, this spice of danger certainly did not detract from the pleasures of the journey. He was nevertheless most careful before setting out of a morning to see that his horse and all the horses had been well fed and harnessed; for this concerned the safety of the poor brutes as well as his own. So simple an accident as the loosening of a belly-band has ere now in this wild land resulted in horse and rider being precipitated over a mountain-side, or swept from a ford into the rapids of some swollen river.

Dangers come when least looked for; nothing is certain when travelling except the unexpected, and it is always prudent to be prepared.

But I do not mean to hold my hero up as a paragon of prudence, or any other virtue for that matter; and I have to confess that his love of nature, and his search for the beautiful and the picturesque, often led him into difficulties he might otherwise have steered clear of.

"I say, Samaro," he said one night to his major-domo, "I have a notion to climb one of these lofty mountains. Up into the region of perpetual snow. Do you understand?"

"I understand, señor; but -- "

"Well, what?"

"Your uncle would not have dared to do so."

"O, I shall dare more than my uncle ever dared. And whatever a man dares he can do."

"Well, señor, I am ready. Will you start to-morrow?"

"Yes. The hill is at hand, or mountain rather; and it does not seem difficult to ascend. Looks quite near, indeed."

"Excuse me, señor," said Samaro, "if I take the liberty of laughing. The mountain certainly seems near, but so does the moon. The air is very clear, señor."

"Well, all the better for us."

Tom was early astir next morning; but early though it was he found Samaro busy enough. He was squatting under a bush, making for himself what looked to Tom something like a pair of leather breeches with feet attached.