Chapter 10 11.Learned Spanish wrong

Little Robert escaped the vulture's kisses, but was kissed passionately by his companions: they were eager to swallow him up.Although he was still very weak, no one did not come to pull him into his arms and hug him tightly.This display of love will not exhaust the patient, on the contrary, it will only benefit the patient. The child's life was saved, and everyone thought of the life-saving benefactor.Naturally, it was the major who remembered first.He looked around in search of it.Fifty steps away from the river, a tall man stood motionless on a high hill at the foot of the mountain.A spear was placed at the man's feet, his shoulders were broad, his hair was tied with a leather rope, and his stature was more than 2 meters.Bronze face, painted red between the eyes and mouth, black on the lower eyelid, and white on the forehead.It was a local native, imitating the costumes of the Patagonians in the outskirts, wearing a beautiful coat embroidered with red arabesques. Sewn up, the fine hair is turned outside.Inside the coat was a tight-fitting fox fur jacket with a pointed front.From his belt hung a pouch containing face paint.The boots were of cowhide, fastened across the calf with leather straps.

The Patagonian, in spite of his colorful face, was majestic and indeed intelligent.He waited there with great dignity.Seeing him standing on the rock, motionless, so solemn, people almost mistake it for a statue of the "God of Tranquility". The Major pointed him out as soon as he caught sight of him.Glenarvan immediately ran towards the man, and the man took two steps forward to meet him.Glenarvan's two hands clasped his one tightly.There was so much gratitude in his eyes, in his smile, and in his whole countenance, that the native could not have misunderstood anything.He nodded slightly and said something that neither the major nor Glenarvan could understand.

After studying the foreigners carefully, the Patagonian changed his language.But, no matter how hard he tried, the new language was as incomprehensible as the original one.There were, however, a few phrases in the native's utterance which caught his attention.Glenarvan knew a few words commonly used in Spain, and it seemed to him that the native spoke Spanish. "Is it Spanish?" he asked in Spanish. The Patagonian nodded, this up and down movement expresses affirmative meaning in any nation. "Well, it's about our friend Paganel. It's a good thing he remembered to learn Spanish!"

They called Paganel.Paganel came running at once, and greeted the Patagonian with that French refinement which the Patagonians might not have experienced at all.As soon as he heard that he was asked to speak Spanish with people, he replied, "That's not a problem." So, in order to pronounce clearly, he deliberately opened his mouth wide and shouted: "Woos--Sawyes--Weng--Haomen--de--Ben!" (You are a good man!) The native listened attentively and did not answer. "He doesn't understand," said the geographer. "Perhaps you have the wrong pitch?" the major reminded him.

"Yes, I suffered from that ghost tone!" He repeated the compliment and got the same result. "Let me put it another way." He said, then gnawed his teeth, paused, and called out these words again: "Sun Mu--Duweida--Weng--Batago!" (No doubt, you are a Patagonian!) The other party remained silent. "Di Zeyi buy!" (Answer!) Paganel added. The Patagonian still didn't answer. "Woos—what do you mean by Gubli?" (Do you understand?) Paganel wanted to yell out his throat. It was all too obvious that the Indian did not understand, for he replied in Spanish:

"No——Combrenale." (Unintelligible.) Now it was Paganel's turn to wonder.He pushed the glasses on his forehead to his eyes, looking impatient. "I don't know a single word of that nonsense he's talking about!" said he. "It must be Aroganian!" "No, this man must have answered in Spanish." Golinarvan said, and then turned to the Patagonian and asked in Spanish: "Spanish?" "West! West!" (Yes! Yes!) replied the native. Paganel's surprise turned to horror.The major and Glenarvan glanced sideways at each other. "Aha! my learned friend," said the major, with a little smile on his lips, "you are a specialist in carelessness, and you are not careless again this time?"

"Hmm!" The geographer listened attentively and made a suspicious voice. "Yeah! Apparently the Patagonian speaks Spanish..." "He speaks Spanish?!" "That's right! Didn't you learn another language? You thought you were learning..." Before the major finished speaking, the scholar shrugged his shoulders and interrupted him with a harsh "Ah!" "Major! You've gone too far!" Paganel said rather unconvinced. "Otherwise, why don't you understand him?" retorted the major. "I can't understand the native's words because he doesn't speak well!" The geographer became more and more impatient as he argued.

"That is to say: he speaks badly because you don't understand." The major forced him again calmly. "Major," said Glenarvan, coming out to smooth things over, "your hypothesis is not justified. Even if our friend Paganel was careless, he would not have learned a whole wrong language!" "It's not that I've learned the wrong language, so I beg you, my dear Edward, ... or I beg you, my good Paganel, to explain yourself to the native I don't know what it means." "I won't explain it," replied Paganel, "I'll prove it. This is the book from which I study Spanish every day! See, Major, what else do you have to say!"

As he spoke, he fumbled here and there in his pocket for a few minutes, and found a very tattered book, which he handed to the major with peace of mind. The major went on to read the book and read: "Okay, what book is this?" he asked. "It's Luchago," replied Paganel, "a wonderful epic, which..." "Lu Xiage!" cried Golinarvan. "Yes, my friend, the Luchas of the great poet Cameroons are not bad at all!" Why! You've been studying Portuguese for six weeks!" "Cammons! Luchago! Portuguese!  …" Paganel could not continue, his eyes dazzled under his large spectacles, and at the same time there was a wild laugh in his ears, because all his traveling companions surrounded him.

The Patagonian didn't even frown. He absolutely couldn't understand this extravagant scene, and just waited patiently for an explanation. "Ah! what a fool I am! what a madman I am!" said Paganel at last. What is it? This is simply the story of Babel Tower, with all languages ​​mixed up! Ah, friends! Friends! I went to India, but I came to Chile! I wanted to learn Spanish, but I learned Portuguese! What a shame! If it goes on like this, one day when I throw a cigarette butt out the window, I'll throw myself out!" No one, hearing Paganel say this, seeing him like that, could not help laughing.First he laughed himself.

"Laugh, friends!" he said. "Try to laugh! I laugh at myself more than you laugh at me!" As he said that, he laughed "haha!" for a while. A scholar has never laughed like this before. "Laughing is enough. We don't have any competent interpreters," said the major. "Ah! don't worry, Spanish and Portuguese are so close that I've been mistaken. But the closeness allows me to make amends very quickly. The venerable Patagoni Yaren speaks Spanish so well, I promise I'll be able to thank him in Spanish if I stop for a while." Paganel was right, and after a while he was able to exchange a few words with the native, and he also knew that the Patagonian's name was Tarcaf, which is a word in Arogania. The text means "sharpshooter". Tarcaf is obviously famous for being good at shooting guns. But the most fortunate thing for Galinafan is that he heard that the Patagonians are professional tour guides, and they specialize in leading tourists to travel in the grasslands.This coincidence was too wonderful to be said to be without providence.Therefore, the success of this expedition is tantamount to a fait accompli.No one doubted Captain Grant's safety any longer.At this moment the travelers and the Patagonian returned to Robert.Robert held out his arms to the native, who, without a word, put his hand on his forehead.He examined the child's body, pinched his aching limbs.Then, smiling, he ran to the river to pick a few handfuls of wild celery, and wiped the little patient's whole body with wild celery.He rubbed it very finely, and the child felt gradually stronger as soon as he massaged it.Apparently, a few more hours of rest will allow for a full recovery. Therefore, it was decided to remain in the makeshift tent that day and that night.However, the two serious problems of food and transportation must be solved.Because their rations and mules were gone.Fortunately, Tarcaf was there.He was accustomed to guide travelers along the frontiers of Patagonia, and was one of the wisest guides there, and he was responsible for supplying all that Glenarvan and his party needed.He volunteered to lead Golinavan to the Indian Market, at a distance of not more than four miles, where everything necessary for the journey could be found.The suggestion was expressed half in gesture, half in Spanish, and Paganel finally understood it.Corinarvan and his learned friend at once accepted this suggestion, and taking leave of their traveling companions, followed the Patagonian up the river. For an hour and a half they walked nervously, striding to keep up with the giant Tarcaf.The area around the Andas Mountains not only has pleasant scenery, but also has fertile soil.The fertile grassland is one after another, and there are 100,000 cattle and sheep here without worrying about food.The arrayed ponds and vertical and horizontal ditches provide green conditions for these plains. Black-headed swans are playing in the ponds, and countless ostriches are prancing among the vines. They share the scenery of the water country.The birds here are beautiful and noisy at the same time, and the variety is astonishing.There is a light gray dove with white stripes called "Ithaca", which is very exquisite and lovely. They and many yellow warblers are dotted on the branches, like some lively flowers. Wild pigeons fly across the sky in groups, Countless small sparrows, "Shengeluo" sparrows, "Xigeluo" sparrows, and "Menggui" sparrows spread their wings and compete for flight, chasing each other, and the sky is full of squeaky calls. Paganel walked all the way, admiring and full of admiration, which surprised the Patagonian.Because, in his view, there are birds in the sky, swans in the pond, and grass in the plain, which is nothing more than natural, what admiration!But the scholar became more and more energetic, and he didn't think the road was long. He thought he had just set off soon, but at this time the tents of those Indians had already appeared in front of his eyes. This market is located in the depths of the Calabash Valley, which is buckled by two mountains.There, under a shed made of branches, lived about 30 nomadic Indians, grazing large herds of dairy cows, cattle, sheep, and horses.They wandered from meadow to meadow, and here and there a sumptuous feast was entertained for their throng of four-legged guests. These Indians are called Andean Peruvians, a mixed race of Aloganians, Baihuanshi people and Oca people, olive skin, medium build, thick body, low forehead, round face, Thin lips, high cheekbones, effeminate features, and aloof looks, ethnographers can tell at a glance that they are not pure-blooded.These natives do not arouse much interest in them.However, the purpose of Golinavan is not the shepherd but the herd.As long as they have horses and oxen, that's all. Takaf was in charge of negotiating, and it was soon successful.Glenarvan bought seven Argentine ponies, complete with saddles and bridles, a hundred catties of dried meat, a few dendrobium rice, and several leather buckets for water.The Indians were tempted to give wine or "rumu" in exchange, since Corinavan had no wine, and they accepted twenty taels of gold--the value of which they knew perfectly well.Glenarvan wanted to buy another horse for Tarcaf to ride, but he said he didn't need it. After the deal was done, Golinarvan said goodbye to what Paganel called his "suppliers" and was back in their makeshift tent within half an hour.When he arrived there was a cheer, which he knew was not for him but for the provisions and horses he had brought.Everyone gets a good meal.Robert also had a little food and drink, and his strength was almost fully restored. The rest of the day is spent in rest.Everyone talked about everything: about dear Lady Helen and Mary, about Captain John Menger and his crew, about Harry Grant--he was probably not far from here. Far. As for Paganel, all his eyes were fixed on the Indian, and he never left him.He had met a real Patagonian!I couldn't be happier.He was a dwarf compared with this Patagonian, and he thought Tarcaf was as beautiful as the Congolese black whom the Roman Emperor Maximin and the scholar Van der Borok had seen, Because these two people are more than 2 meters tall!Besides, he kept babbling in Spanish with the solemn Indian, who listened patiently to him.Our geographers are studying again, but not in books this time.People often heard him make many loud sounds with his throat, tongue, and jaws. "It's not my fault if I don't master the intonation of Spanish in the future!" he used to say to the major. "Who ever expected a Patagonian to teach me Spanish?"