A general rush was made upon the Irishman, who was fairly overturned by the mass of men.  Martin struggled fiercely to free himself, and would have succeeded had not two powerful Indians hastened to the help of the one who had first seized him.  Despite his frantic efforts, he was dragged forcibly up the mountain gorge, the echoes of which rang with his cries as he shouted despairingly the name of his friend.  Barney fought like a tiger; but he could make no impression on such numbers.  Although at least a dozen Indians lay around him bleeding and stunned by the savage blows of his fists,—­a species of warfare which was entirely new to them,—­fresh savages crowded round.  But they did not wish to kill him, and numerous though they were, they found it no easy matter to secure so powerful a man; and when Martin turned a last despairing glance towards the camp, ere a turn in the path shut it out from view, the hammer-like fists of his comrade were still smashing down the naked creatures who danced like monkeys round him, and the war-like shouts of his stentorian voice reverberated among the cliffs and caverns of the mountain pass long after he was hid from view.

Thus Martin and Barney were separated in the wild regions near the Sierra dos Parecis of Brazil.

CHAPTER XX

MARTIN REFLECTS MUCH, AND FORMS A FIRM RESOLVE—­THE INDIAN VILLAGE

When the mind has been overwhelmed by some sudden and terrible calamity, it is long ere it again recovers its wonted elasticity.  An aching void seems to exist in the heart, and a dead weight appears to press upon the brain, so that ordinary objects make but little impression, and the soul seems to turn inwards and brood drearily upon itself.  The spirit of fun arid frolick, that had filled Martin Rattler’s heart ever since he landed in Brazil, was now so thoroughly and rudely crushed, that he felt as if it were utterly impossible that he should ever smile again.

He had no conception of the strength of his affection for the rough, hearty sailor, who had until now been the faithful and good-humoured companion of his wanderings.  As Barney had himself said on a former occasion, his life up till this period had been a pleasant and exciting dream.  But he was now awakened rudely to the terrible reality of his forlorn position; and the more he thought of it the more hopeless and terrible it appeared to be.

He knew not in what part of Brazil he was; he was being hurried apparently deeper into these vast solitudes by savages who were certainly not friendly, and of whose language he knew not a word; and worst of all, he was separated perhaps for ever from the friend on whom, all unconsciously to himself, he had so long leaned for support in all their difficulties and dangers.  Even though he and Barney should succeed in escaping from the Indians, he felt—­and his heart was overwhelmed at the thought—­that in such a vast country there was not the shadow of a chance that they should find each other.  Under the deep depression produced by these thoughts Martin wandered on wearily, as if in a dream—­taking no interest in anything that occurred by the way.  At length, after several days fatiguing journey over mountains and plains, they arrived at the Indian village.