Also, nothing could be more magnificent than this succession of forests, or rather this interminable forest.
Meanwhile, Dick Sand had not failed to observe this—that, according to Harris, they were in the region of the pampas.
Now, pampas is a word from the "quichna" language, which signifies a plain.
Now, if his recollections did not deceive him, he believed that these plains presented the following characteristics: Lack of water, absence of trees, a failure of stones, an almost luxuriant abundance of thistles during the rainy season, thistles which became almost shrubby with the warm season, and then formed impenetrable thickets; then, also, dwarf trees, thorny shrubs, the whole giving to these plains a rather arid and desolate aspect.
Now, it had not been thus, since the little troop, guided by the American, had left the coast.
The forest had not ceased to spread to the limits of the horizon.
No, this was not the pampas, such as the young novice had imagined them.
Had nature, as Harris had told him, been able to make a region apart from the plateau of Atacama, of which he knew nothing, if it did not form one of the most vast deserts of South America, between the Andes and the Pacific Ocean?
On that day Dick Sand propounded some questions on this subject, and expressed to the American the surprise he felt at this singular appearance of the pampas.
But he was quickly undeceived by Harris, who gave him the most exact details about this part of Bolivia, thus witnessing to his great knowledge of the country.
"You are right, my young friend," he said to the novice. "The true pampa is indeed such as the books of travels have depicted it to you, that is, a plain rather arid, and the crossing of which is often difficult.
It recalls our savannahs of North America—except that these are a little marshy.
Yes, such is indeed the pampa of the Rio Colorado, such are the "llanos" of the Orinoco and of Venezuela.
But here, we are in a country, the appearance of which even astonishes me.
It is true, it is the first time I have followed this route across the plateau, a route which has the advantage of shortening our journey.
But, if I have not yet seen it, I know that it presents an extraordinary contrast to the veritable pampa.
As to this one, you would find it again, not between the Cordilleras of the west and the high chain of the Andes, but beyond the mountains, over all that eastern part of the continent which extends as far as the Atlantic."
"Must we then clear the Andes range?" Dick Sand asked, quickly.
"No, my young friend, no," replied the American, smiling.
"So I said: You would find it again, and not: You will find it again.
Be reassured, we shall not leave this plateau, the greatest elevations of which do not exceed fifteen hundred feet.
Ah! if it had been necessary to cross the Cordilleras with only the means of transport at our disposal, I should never have drawn you into such an undertaking."
"In fact," replied Dick Sand, "it would be better to ascend or descend the coast."
"Oh! a hundred times!" replied Harris.
"But the Farm of San Felice is situated on this side of the Cordilleras.
So, then, our journey, neither in its first nor in its second part, will offer any real difficulty."
"And you do not fear going astray in these forests, which you cross for the first time?" asked Dick Sand.
"No, my young friend, no," replied Harris.
"I know indeed that this forest is like an immense sea, or rather like the bottom of a sea, where a sailor himself could not take the latitude nor recognize his position.
But accustomed to traveling in the woods, I know how to find my route only by the inclination of certain trees, by the direction of their leaves, by the movement or the composition of the soil, by a thousand details which escape you!
Be sure of it, I will lead you, you and yours, where you ought to go!"
All these things were said very clearly by Harris.
Dick Sand and he, at the head of the troop, often talked without any one mingling in their conversation.
If the novice felt some doubts that the American did not always succeed in scattering, he preferred to keep them to himself.
The 8th, 9th, 10th, 11th, and 12th of April passed in this manner, without any incident to mark the journey.
They did not make more than eight to nine miles in twelve hours.
The times consecrated to eating or repose came at regular intervals, and though a little fatigue was felt already, the sanitary condition was still very satisfactory.
Little Jack began to suffer a little from this life in the woods, to which he was not accustomed, and which was becoming very monotonous for him.
And then all the promises which had been made him had not been kept.
The caoutchouc jumping-jacks, the humming-birds, all those seemed constantly to recede.
There had also been a question of showing him the most beautiful parrots in the world, and they ought not to be wanting in these rich forests.
Where, then, were the popinjays with green plumage, almost all originally from these countries, the aras, with naked cheeks, with long pointed tails, with glittering colors, whose paws never rest on the earth, and the "camindes," which are more peculiar to tropical countries, and the many-colored she-parrots, with feathered faces, and finally all those prattling birds which, according to the Indians, still speak the language of extinct tribes?
Of parrots, little Jack only saw ash-gray jakos, with red tails, which abounded under the trees.
But these jakos were not new to him.
They have transported them into all parts of the world.
On the two continents they fill the houses with their insupportable chattering, and, of all the family of the "psittacius," they are the ones which learn to speak most easily.
It must be said, besides, that if Jack was not contented, Cousin Benedict was no more so.
He had been allowed to wander a little to the right or to the left during the march.
However, he had not found any insect which was fit to enrich his collection.
Even the "pyrophores" obstinately refused to show themselves to him, and attract him by the phosphorescences of their corselet.