"That depends on the way in which you take it."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Why," the bombero said carelessly, "if you are fond of your ease, I have not come to reassure you; if you feel a desire to mount your horse and to see the Patagonians, you will have no occasion to indulge your fancy, as what I have to tell will cause you immense pleasure."
In spite of the gravity of the circumstances, and the anxiety of his hearers, they smiled at Pepe's singular arguments.
"Explain yourself, Pepe," the governor said to him.
"Ten minutes after my brother's departure," the bombero went on, "I examined some bushes which I had seen moving in an unusual manner. I discovered a Negro, who was pale in spite of his black hide, and whose tongue terror appeared to have tied. At length he made up his mind to speak. He belonged to a poor old gentleman of the name of Ignacio Bayal, one of the two men who alone escaped from the massacre on the peninsula of San José, during the last invasion of the Patagonians. The slave and his master were gathering wood, when the Indians appeared a short distance off; the slave had time to conceal himself behind a pile ofbiscacha, but the old man fell beneath the blows of the savages, who attacked him with lances andbolas perdidas. I began reassuring the Negro, but at the same moment perceived a multitude of Indians driving prisoners and cattle before them, burning and destroying everything as they passed in full march on Carmen. The Estancia of Punta Rosa and that of San Blas are at this moment a pile of ashes, and serve as tombs to the owners. That is my news, Excellency, and you can do what you like with it."
"And those bleeding scalps?" the major asked, pointing to the human trophies that hung from the bombero's belt.
"That is a personal matter," Pepe replied with a smile. "Through friendship for the Indians, I preferred to lift their hair rather than leave them my head."
"Perhaps it is only a band of plunderers of the Pampas, who have come to steal cattle, and will retire with their booty."
"Hum," said Pepe, with a shake of his head, "they are too numerous, too well equipped, and are advancing with too much regularity. No, colonel, it is not a skirmish, but an invasion."
"Thanks, Pepe," the colonel said, "I am satisfied with you. Return to your post, and redouble your vigilance."
"Juan is dead, colonel, and that will tell you how fond my brothers and I are of the Indians."
The bombero retired.
"You see, gentlemen," said Don Antonio, "that time presses. Go all of you to your duties."
"One moment," said Major Bloomfield, "I have one more suggestion to make."
"Speak, my friend."
"We are, so to speak, lost in this corner of the earth, and remote from any help; we may be besieged in Carmen, and forced into surrender by starvation. Under these imperious circumstances, I ask that a ship should be sent to Buenos Aires to describe our situation, and request reinforcements."
"What do you think, gentlemen, of the major's suggestion?" the colonel asked, looking inquiringly at the officers.
"It is excellent, colonel, excellent," one of them answered.
"The suggestion will be carried out at once," Don Antonio continued, "and now, gentlemen, you can withdraw."
The defence of the fort and town was organized with a rapidity inconceivable to anyone acquainted with Spanish sloth; danger gave courage to the timid and doubled the ardour of the others. Two hours later the cattle had been driven in and corraled, the streets barricaded, the guns sponged out, and the women and children shut up in buildings adjoining the fort, a vessel was sailing for Buenos Aires, and one hundred and fifty resolute men were intrenched at Población del Sur, the houses of which they had loop-holed.
The governor and Major Bloomfield seemed to be everywhere at once; encouraging the troops, ordering the workmen, and imparting energy to all.
About three in the afternoon, a violent breeze sprang up, which bore from the southwest the smoke occasioned by firing the country, and hiding distant objects. The inhabitants of Carmen were devoured with anxiety.
Such is the simple and ingenious plan the southern nations employ to favour their invasion of the territory of the whites, to hide their manoeuvres, and conceal their numbers from the piercing eyes of the bomberos. The smoke like a floating wall, separated the Indians from Carmen, and in consequence of the brightness of the nights they had selected the period of the full moon.
The scouts, in spite of the dense smoke that protected the enemy, arrived at a gallop one after the other, and announced that they would be before Carmen during the night. In fact, the Indian hordes, whose numbers incessantly increased, covered the whole extent of the plain, and advanced on the town with startling rapidity.
By the governor's orders, the three alarm shots were fired. The estancieros could then be seen flocking up, driving their cattle before them, and on seeing their houses fired, and their rich crops destroyed, they shed tears of despair. These poor people encamped where they could, in the open places of the town, and after leading their wives and daughters to the fort, those who were of manly age took up arms, and rushed to the barriers and barricades, resolved to take vengeance for their ruin.
The consternation and terror were general; on all sides could be heard lamentation and stifled sobs; the night arrived to add its horrors to the situation, and enfold the town in its mourning. Numerous patrols traversed the streets, and, at intervals, daring bomberos slipped furtively out of the city to watch the approach of the coming peril.
About two in the morning, in the midst of an impressive silence, a slight sound was audible, at first almost imperceptible, but which was every moment augmented, and, as if by enchantment, the Aucas crowned the top of the barricades in Población del Sur, and waving lighted torches, uttered their war yell.
For a moment the inhabitants fancied the town captured; but Major Bloomfield, who commanded this post, was on his guard against the tricks of the Indians. At the moment when the Aucas prepared to escalade the barricades, a sharp fusillade broke out, which hurled them to the foot of the entrenchments. The Argentines dashed forward at the bayonet point, and there was a frightful medley, from which issued groans of agony, imprecations, and the harsh clang of steel against steel. This was all; the Spaniards regained their position, the Indians disappeared, and the town, so lately illumined by the light of the torches, fell back into shadow and silence.
As the Indian surprise had failed, they would either withdraw or invest the town. At daybreak, however, all the illusions of the inhabitants were dissipated—the enemy had not thought of retreating.
It was a heart-rending sight! the country was devastated, and the expiring flames could still be seen in the distance. Here, a band of Aucas were driving horses off; there, warriors, with lances erect, were watching the movements of the townspeople; behind them squaws and children were driving cattle, which uttered long lowings; here and there prisoners, men, women, and children, forced along by blows with lance staves, were holding up their suppliant arms to the town walls. Patagonians were planting poles and erecting toldos; and, lastly, far as eye could reach, fresh bands of Indians descended into the plain from all sides.
The oldest soldiers in the fort, who had been witnesses of previous wars, were amazed at the regularity of the enemy's march. The toldos were skilfully grouped; the infantry executed, with great precision, movements which they had hitherto been ignorant of, and it was an extraordinary thing, which stupefied the colonel and the major, to see the Aucas form a parallel round the town, and almost instantaneously throw up earthworks, which protected them from the artillery.
"¡Sangre de Dios!" the colonel exclaimed, "There is a traitor among the villains; never before have they waged war in this way."
"Hum!" the major muttered, biting his moustache; "if Buenos Aires does not send succour, we are lost."
"Yes, my friend, we shall leave our skins here."
"How many are they, colonel?—twenty thousand; thirty thousand?"
"And those who are still coming up, and who blacken the distant plains?—But what means the sound of that bugle?"
Four Ulmens, preceded by an Indian, who carried a white flag, had halted within half gunshot of the first barriers of Población del Sur.
"They seem," the colonel said, "to be desiring a parley. Do they fancy me fool enough to venture into that trap? Major, just fire a round of canister into that group to teach them not to treat us as fools."
"We should be wrong, colonel; let us learn what they want."
"But where shall we find a man fool enough to risk his carcase among those pagans, who have neither faith nor law?"
"I will go, with your permission," the major said simply.
"You?" Don Antonio exclaimed in amazement.
"Yes, I. Unfortunate persons have been confided to our guard and our honour. I am but a man; my life is of but little consequence for the defence of the town. I am old, colonel, and will try to save the inhabitants of Carmen."
The governor suppressed a sigh, and affectionately shook his old friend's hand.
"Go," he said with considerable emotion, "and may Heaven protect you!"
"Thanks," Major Bloomfield answered.
On leaving Carmen, Pedrito felt a recollection of his sister aroused in his mind, and in order to warn Don Valentine Cardoso of the invasion of the Indians, he started at a gallop for the estancia, which, thanks to the speed of the fresh horse the governor had given him, he reached without a check. All was quiet at San Julian, and the sentry watching in the mirador had perceived nothing alarming in the distance.
Patito, in the capitaz' absence, was on guard at the battery, like a faithful watchdog.
"Where is Don Blas?" the bombero asked.
"At Carmen, with Don Sylvio d'Arenal," the gaucho answered.
"What, have they not returned yet?"
"No."
"Lead me to Don Valentine."
The estanciero heartily welcomed the bombero, and sent for his sister, who arrived with Doña Concha.
"What brings you here in such a hurry, Pedrito?"
"A very serious matter, Don Valentine," he answered, after embracing Mercedes several times; "but only look, Excellency, how pretty she is in her new dress! Kiss me again, little sister."
"Have you only come to devour the girl with caresses?" Don Valentine asked with a smile; "If so, go on to your heart's content."
"That is almost enough," Pedrito replied, his eyes filled with tears. "Alas! Our family is diminishing daily. Still," he added, changing his accent, "however great the love I bear my sister, it is not for her sake alone that I am here. But stay, Excellency, that is not true; it is for her sake, her sake alone, though apparently for yours. I have just come from Carmen."
"From Carmen?" Doña Concha said, involuntarily.
"Yes, señorita," the bombero answered, as if reading the young lady's secret thoughts, "and I saw Don Sylvio d'Arenal there."
Doña Concha turned red as a cherry, and was silent.
"And what have you been doing in Carmen?" Don Valentine asked.
"I went to warn his Excellency Colonel Don Antonio Valverde, that the Indians have entered the country of the Republic, plundering and burning everything on their road."
"An invasion!" Don Valentine said, with an internal tremor.
"O heavens!" the two girls exclaimed, clasping their hands with a movement of terror.
"Yes, Excellency, an inconceivable and terrible invasion. When I had warned the governor, I remembered my sister, and came here."
"You are a worthy fellow, Pedrito," the estanciero said, as he offered him his hand. "You are not a brother to Mercedes, but a father. But do not be frightened! the estancia is safer than Carmen."
"I saw that so soon as I arrived, Excellency, and that removed a heavy weight which oppressed my heart. I shall now go, with almost gladness, to join my two brothers. Juan died on the field—the same fate awaits us. But Mercedes is happy, and I can die in peace."
"Oh, my kind Pedrito," Mercedes exclaimed, as she burst into tears, and threw herself into his arms; "must you not live for one who loves you?"
"Come, do not cry, little girl, but say good-bye; I must return to the plain."
He tenderly embraced his sister who was still weeping, left the room, mounted his horse again, and started at a gallop.
"Father," Doña Concha said eagerly, "are we going to remain at the estancia during the invasion of the Indians?"
"My child, it is the safest plan." "But, Don Sylvio?" she added, with a delicious pout.
"He will come and join us."
"Oh, no," she said hurriedly; "you forget, father, that the roads are impracticable, and infested with Indians; I do not wish him to fall into an ambuscade of the Pagans."
"What is to be done?"
"Send him a messenger ordering him, from me, to remain at Carmen, or, if he absolutely insists on returning, to take a boat; the Indians will not dare attack him on the river. Write to him, father; I will add a few lines to your letter, and he will not like to displease his wife."
"His wife?" her father repeated with a smile.
"Or nearly so, as I am going to marry him in two days. You will write at once, will you not, dear father?"
"I have no will but your caprices," he added, with an air of resignation.
He sat down at a mahogany desk and wrote; Concha, leaning smilingly over his chair, read over his shoulder. So soon as Don Valentine had concluded, he turned to his beloved daughter.
"Well, are you satisfied, little Mrs. Bluebeard?" he asked her.
"Oh, my kind father," she replied, taking his head in both her hands, and kissing him on the forehead. Then, with a movement full of loving grace, she took the pen from her father's fingers, and was writing a few lines at the foot of the letter, when a great noise, mingled with shrieks, was heard outside.
"O Heavens!" she exclaimed, as if struck to the heart, and turning deadly pale.
She rushed to the steps, and perceived Patito and Pedrito, carrying a man wrapped up in a cloak; other persons were collected round Doña Salazar, who seemed on the point of fainting.
"Whose is that body?" Doña Concha asked in a sharp, imperative voice.
"It is my son's!" the heart-broken mother cried.
"Don Blas Salazar," Pedrito answered.
"And Don Sylvio?" the maiden continued,
"Has disappeared," Pedrito said.
She fell back, half dead; her father caught her in his arms, and carried her back to the drawing room.
This is what had happened. Pedrito, when he had got a short distance from the estancia, was all but unsaddled, by his horse suddenly shying. Aroused from his reverie by the animal's terror, the horseman looked around, to discover the cause of it. Judge of his surprise! At a spot which appeared to have been the scene of a desperate struggle, the damp earth retained the marks of several horses' hoofs; weapons had been thrown away there, and seven corpses lay pell-mell in pools of blood and muddy water.
"What!" Pedrito thought, "Have the Indians come this way already?" and he added, "Why is it they have not stripped their victims?"
He dismounted, and walked to the bodies, which he examined attentively, and felt and raised one after the other.
"Something that is not natural has taken place here," the bombero said; "two Negroes! Oh! he said, on coming to the gauchos, Who are these men wearing masks? Oh! Oh! Has it been a crime instead of an ambuscade, and a bit of Spanish vengeance, instead of an Indian attack? I will have a look at them."
He tore from the faces of the four gauchos the strips of wool they had employed to conceal themselves.
"On my word, I do not know them; who can these scoundrels be?"
At the same moment, his eyes rested on another corpse, hidden by a thickly growing bush, beneath which it lay stretched out.
"This man is not dressed in the same manner, so he must be one of the caballeros attacked by these villains; I will have a look at him, and perhaps he will give me the clue to this adventure."
He uttered a cry on recognizing Don Blas Salazar, the capataz of the Estancia de San Julian. He bent over him, raised him softly in his arms, and deposited him gently in the road, with his back leaning against a rock.
"Poor capataz! So brave and kind! But if I am not mistaken, I can feel a little warmth.¡Viva Dios! I should be glad if he was not dead."
The bombero then opened his clothes, and saw three insignificant wounds on his chest; he hastened to bandage them carefully, and found that the flesh was scarcely cut. Pedrito rubbed his hands with a satisfied air, until he discovered on the skull a fourth wound, on which the hair had clotted and stopped the flow of blood. He washed the wound, cut away the hair round it with his knife, saturated a handkerchief with water, and bound it tightly over the wound. The capataz gave a faint sigh, and moved slightly.
"¡Caray!" Pedrito exclaimed in delight, "He is saved; wounds on the skull, when they do not kill at once, are cured in a week."
By degrees the wounded man seemed to return to life, and at length opened his eyes, which gazed absently around.
"Ah, my good fellow, do you feel better?caray, do you know that you have had a narrow escape?"
The capataz gave a gentle nod.
"Wait a minute," Pedrito continued; and he thrust into his mouth the neck of thebotaof aguardiente, which the bomberos always carry on their saddlebow. Don Blas made a grimace, but soon resigning himself, he drank the liquor his physician forced down his throat; in a few minutes, his eyes sparkled with their accustomed brilliancy, and a slight flush tinged his cheeks.
"Thanks," he said, thrusting away the bota with his hand.
"You speak, therefore you are alive, capataz. Can you talk?"
"Yes."
"Without danger to yourself, señor?"
"Yes."
"In the first place, do you recognize me?"
"You are Pedrito, the bombero," the wounded man said, with a smile.
"I am a friend."
"Yes."
"Who put you in this charming condition?"
"I do not know."
"Hum! How many were they?"
"I am ignorant."
"Eh! And why did they serve you out in this way?"
"I do not know."
"I do not know; I am ignorant; all that is not very clear; and if you never say any more, I doubt whether the assassins will be detected. Where have you come from? From Carmen?"
"We left Carmen this morning, to—"
"One moment, if you please. You saidwe, I think?"
"Yes, we."
"Who are we?"
"Don Sylvio d'Arenal, myself, and two Negroes."
"Good. Where did you separate from Don Sylvio?"
"I did not leave Don Sylvio at all."
"Oh, nonsense!"
"We were together, when masked bandits suddenly came out of this wood, and attacked us. Our Negroes were killed at the first discharge, but Don Sylvio and I got our backs against a tree behind our horses; I fought—and I can tell you no more."
"This blow on the head settled you; it was, by Heaven, enough to fell an ox; but you have a hard head, and lucky for you, for you will recover. So you were unable to recognize your assassins?"
"Yes."
"Just come and have a look at them with me. Can you walk?"
"I think so."
"Try."
And Don Blas Salazar got up, and tottered a few steps with extreme difficulty.
"Take my arm," Pedrito said.
The capataz, supported by the bombero, examined the faces of the gauchos.
"I recognize this man," he said, pointing to a corpse; "it is Corrocho. Now I know the originator of the snare."
"¡Caray! All the better; but Don Sylvio's body is not here."
"Heaven be praised!" the capataz exclaimed,
"He will have escaped, and we shall find him at the estancia."
"No!" Pedrito said.
"What do you mean by no?"
"I have just come from there, and should have seen him."
"Where is he?"
"That's the very point; I may say, like you, I do not know, or, if you prefer it, I am ignorant."
"Don Pedro, let us go to San Julian."
"I will carry you, then, at a walking pace; your head has not closed again yet, and a rapid ride would envenom the wound."
"No matter; I must go there with the speed of the wind."
"Then you want to kill yourself?"
"I do not care. I think you love Don Valentine Cardoso and his daughter."
"Caray! If I love them! I would lay down my life for them."
"The happiness, perhaps the life, of Doña Concha is at stake; you can see that mine is of no consequence."
"That is true," the bombero said, with an air of conviction.
"Then you consent?"
"I do."
"Thank you! One word more. If I die on the road, you will tell Doña Concha that the assassin—"
"That the assassin—" Pedrito repeated, finding the other hesitate.
"But, no," the capataz continued, "it is unnecessary. God will not permit me to die before I have seen her."
"As you please. Let us be off."
"At full speed; you promise that?"
"Like lightning."
He remounted, placed before him the capataz, who had no horse, and who, besides, was too weak to sit one, then relaxing the bridle, and digging in his spurs, he flew along with the velocity of the phantom horse in the German ballad.
Pedrito's horse, when it reached the gates of the estancia, slipped with all four feet at once, and fell dead. But the bombero, who had foreseen this accident, came down on his feet, and holding in his arms his friend the capataz, whom the shocks of this infernal ride had caused to faint for the second time.
Patito helped the bombero to carry poor Don Blas as far as the house.
Doña Concha, who had regained her senses, insisted, in spite of her father's entreaties, on remaining by the side of the wounded man. She lavished attentions on him, poured into his month a few drops of a powerful cordial, and awaited his return to life.
"Forgive me, señorita, forgive me," he said, as soon as he opened his eyes again and perceived her, "I could not save him; my strength deserted me."
"I have nothing to forgive you, Don Blas," the young lady answered, who had learnt the facts from Pedrito; "on the contrary, my friend, I thank you for your devotion. One word, however, when you fell was Don Sylvio still fighting by your side?"
"Yes, señorita."
"Then it was only after your fall that he succumbed to the numbers?"
"No; Don Sylvio is not dead."
"What makes you suppose that?"
"A very simple thing: had he been killed, his body would have been found lying by my side. What interest could the assassins have in concealing a corpse, when they left seven lying in the middle of the road? If they wished to hide their crimes, a hole is soon dug in the sand."
"That is true," Doña Concha murmured, "he still lives; but do you know the author of the crime?"
"Yes, señorita."
"And—"
The capataz looked at the persons who crowded the room. Doña Concha understood him, and dismissed them. Pedrito was about to follow with the rest.
"Remain," she said to him, "you can speak before Don Pedro, his sister, and my father. Who is the man that attacked you?"
"Permit me, señorita, I do not positively say that he was among the assassins, for I did not see him; but it is certainly he who let the cowards loose upon us, and directed them from a distance."
"Yes, Don Blas; he was the head, and these ten or twelve bandits were only the arms."
"The very thing. Among the dead I found the corpse of one of his confidants, the gaucho Corrocho, whom I surprised the other day conspiring with him against you."
A bitter smile for a moment curled the young lady's blanched lips.
"Will you tell me his name or no?" she exclaimed, stamping her foot passionately.
"Don Torribio Carvajal!"
"I knew it!" she said, with an accent of superb disdain. "Oh, Don Torribio, Don Torribio! Where is the man to be found at this hour; where is he? Oh, I would give my fortune, my life, to be face to face with him. Is it in order to assassinate his rivals with impunity that this mysterious man—"
She could not complete the sentence; she burst into tears, and fell into Don Valentine's arms, exclaiming with broken sobs—
"Father, father! who will avenge me?"
"Señorita," said Pedrito, "the man you refer to is difficult to reach."
"Do you know him, Don Pedro?" she asked with a start.
"Yes, señorita," he replied. "But do you know who he is?"
"He is said to be a rich Spaniard."
"It is a mistake."
"Have you penetrated the mystery that surrounds him?"
"Yes."
All drew close to Pedrito.
"Well, Don Pedro?"
"The name of the man you call Don Torribio Carvajal is really Nocobotha, and he is one of the principal chiefs of the Aucas Indians."
"An Indian!" the young lady exclaimed in stupor.
"Yes; but one of those white-skinned Indians, who are descended from the Incas, and call themselves children of the sun."
"Take care, Conchita," Mercedes said, "Nocobotha is a terrible man."
"Then, all that is left me is to die," said the poor affianced, girl, as she fell into a chair.
Mercedes regarded her for a moment with a blended look of sorrow, compassion, and tenderness, then walked up to her and gently laid her hand on her shoulder. At this unexpected touch, Doña Concha started and turned round.
"What do you want of me, poor child?" she asked sadly.
"To save Don Sylvio, if he is alive," Mercedes answered in a calm, firm voice.
"You?"
"Yes, I! When I was shelterless, did you not open to me your home and your heart? You are suffering, and, in my turn, I have come to say 'here I am!'"
"But what can you do, my friend?"
"That is my secret. I know the Indians and the way of behaving with them, and speak their language. The only condition I make is, that you promise not to leave the estancia for three days, and not make any attempt to discover what has become of your betrothed."
Doña Concha gazed at Mercedes, whose eye sparkled with a clear and bright fire, her features breathed a species of masculine grace, and so soft and calm a smile played round her rosy lips, that Conchita felt herself subjugated, and, in spite of herself, hope re-entered her heart.
"I swear it to you," she said, as she embraced the girl warmly.
"Thanks," Mercedes replied. "Good-bye, Conchita! in three days you will have news of your betrothed, or I shall be dead."
Let us now give some explanations about the Indian expedition, and the preparations and arrangements made by Nocobotha, at the moment of attempting the siege of Carmen.
"If you succeed in this affair," Don Torribio had said to the two gauchos, after giving them orders to carry off Don Sylvio d'Arenal, "you will receive fifty ounces more. But forget nothing, and be careful."
Panchito and Corrocho, when left alone, shared the ounces between them with transports of joy.
Don Torribio mounted his horse again and proceeded to Carmen, where he spent several days in his house, though no one was aware of the fact. During his stay he had two interviews, under different disguises, with Pincheira, at the Pulquería del Sur, the usual meeting place of the gauchos. Each night, three or four mules, laden with bales, left the city, under the escort of Indians, and proceeded in the direction of the Andes.
At length, one night, after a long conference with Pincheira, Don Torribio left El Carmen in his turn, his presence in the town having not even been suspected. At six leagues from Carmen he found Panchito and Corrocho, whom he sharply upbraided for their sloth in executing his orders, and he recommended them to act as promptly as possible.
On the morrow, the day of the ñandu hunt, Corrocho presented himself at the gate of the estancia, which Patito had refused to open.
On leaving the two bandits, Don Torribio proceeded to the natural grotto, where we have seen him change his clothes once before. There he put on his Indian trappings, and following the banks of the Rio Negro, galloped towards the island of Ghole-Isechel, where he had appointed to meet all the war detachments of the combined Patagonian and Araucano tribes.
The night was one of the most delicious ever enjoyed in America. The fresh air, odorous with the penetrating perfumes of the flowers that grew in masses on the river banks, disposed the mind to reverie. The sky, of a dark black blue, was embroidered with stars, in the midst of which sparkled the dazzling Southern Cross, which the Indians callParon-Chayke. The moon poured its soft light on the sand, played on the foliage of the trees and designed fantastic forms on the sandbanks. The wind blew softly through the branches, in which the blue jay at intervals uttered the melodious notes of its plaintive song. Here and there, in the distance, could be heard the hoarse roar of the cougars, the sharp whine of the panther, and the snapping bark of the red wolf.
Nocobotha, intoxicated by this lovely autumn night, checked his horse's speed, and allowed his thoughts to wander. The descendant of Manco-Capai and Manco-Oello, the first Incas of Peru, saw pass and repass before his mind the splendours of his race, which had been extinct since the death of Athahualpa, the last Peruvian emperor, whom Pizarro's soldiers assassinated. His heart swelled with pride and joy when he thought that he was about to reconstitute the empire of his ancestors. The soil he trod was his; the air he breathed was the air of his country!
He went on thus for a long time, travelling in the land of dreams. The stars began to grow pale in the sky; the dawn was already tracing a white line, which gradually became tinged with yellow and red streaks, and, at the approach of day, the breeze freshened. Nocobotha, suddenly roused by the icy dew of the Pampa, threw his cloak across his shoulder, with a shudder, and started again at a gallop, after looking up to heaven and muttering—
"Either death or a life of liberty!"
A sublime remark in the mouth of this man! Young, rich, and handsome, he might have remained in Paris, where he had studied, lived there like a nobleman, and enjoyed abundantly all the pleasures of this world. But, no! Free from all ambitious thoughts, and without calculating on human gratitude, he resolved to deliver his country.
At about eight in the morning, Nocobotha halted before an immense toldería, facing the island of Ghole-Isechel. At this spot the Rio Negro attains its greatest width, and each of the arms formed by the island is about two miles and a half across. The island, that rises in the middle of the water, four leagues long and two wide, is one vast bouquet, whence the most delicious fragrance is exhaled, and in which innumerable birds sing. Illumined on this day by the beams of a splendid sun, the island seemed to have been laid on the river like a basket of flowers for the pleasure of the eyes and the delight of the fancy.
As far as the eye reached along the banks of the river, thousands of toldos and chozas could be seen erected close together, and their strange colours flashing in the sun. Numerous canoes, made of horse hides sown together, and generally round, or hollowed out of the trunks of trees, crossed the river in every direction.
Nocobotha entrusted his horse to an Indian woman, and walked among the toldos. In front of their openings the ostrich-plumed pennons of the chiefs floated in the breeze.
He was recognized so soon as he arrived. The warriors drew up in line as he passed, or bowed respectfully before him. The veneration the southern nations have ever felt for the descendants of the Incas seemed changed into a species of adoration. The bejewelled coronet that adorned his brow appeared to arouse the most lively joy in all hearts.
When he reached the riverbank, a fishing canoe conveyed him across to the island, where a toldo had been prepared for him. Lucaney, warned by the sentries who watched for his arrival, presented himself before Nocobotha the moment he landed.
"The great chief," he said, with a bow, "is returned among his sons. Has my father made a good journey?"
"I have made a good journey, I thank my brother."
"If my father permits, I will conduct him to his toldo."
"Go on," the chief said.
Lucaney bowed a second time, and guided the great chief along a track formed through the bushes. They soon reached a toldo of brilliant colours, large and clean, the handsomest on the island, in a word.
"My father is at home," Lucaney said, lifting the poncho that covered the opening.
Nocobotha went in.
"My brother will follow me," he said.
The woollen curtain fell again behind the two Ulmens.
This abode, like the others, contained a fire, by the side of which Nocobotha and Lucaney seated themselves. They smoked in silence for some moments, when the great chief addressed Lucaney.
"Have the Ulmens, Apo-Ulmens and caraskens of all the nations and tribes assembled on the island of Ghole-Isechel, as I gave orders?"
"They are all assembled," Lucaney answered.
"When will they come to my toldo?"
"The chiefs are awaiting my father's good pleasure."
"Time is precious. Before twilight we must have ridden twenty leagues. Lucaney will warn the chiefs."
The Ulmen rose without replying and went, out.
"Come!" Nocobotha said, so soon as he was alone, "The die is cast. I am in Caesar's position, but, by heavens, like him, I will cross the Rubicon."
He rose and walked for more than hour up and down the toldo, immersed in deep thought. A noise of footsteps was heard; the curtain was raised, and Lucaney appeared.
"Well?" Nocobotha asked him.
"The chiefs are here."
"Let them come in!"
The Ulmens, sixty at least, dressed in their richest clothes, and painted and armed for war, passed silently one after the other in front of the great chief, saluted him, kissed the hem of his robe, and ranged themselves round the fire. A troop of warriors, outside, kept listeners aloof.
Nocobotha, in spite of his self-command, could not restrain a movement of pride.
"My brothers are welcome," he said, "I was impatiently expecting them. Lucaney, how many warriors have you assembled?"
"Two thousand five hundred."
"Chamata?"
"Three thousand."
"Metipan?"
"Two thousand."
"Vera?"
"Three thousand seven hundred."
"Killapan?"
"One thousand nine hundred."
Nocobotha wrote down on his tablets the numbers stated by the Ulmens, who, after answering, ranged themselves on his right hand.
"Lucaney," he continued, "is Pincheira's war party here?"
"Yes, father."
"How many warriors has he?"
"Four thousand eight hundred."
"Mulato, how many have you?"
"Four thousand."
"Guaykilof?"
"Three thousand five hundred."
"Killamel?"
"Six thousand two hundred."
"Churlakin?"
"Five thousand six hundred."
"Which are the nations that accepted the quipu, and sent their warriors to the gathering place?"
"All!" Churlakin answered proudly.
"My heart is satisfied with the wisdom of my son. What is the effective strength of these eight nations?"
"Twenty-nine thousand seven hundred and sixty men, commanded by the bravest Ulmens."
"Good," said Nocobotha. "The Aucas and Araucano chiefs here present have brought twenty-three thousand seven hundred and fifty warriors. We can also reckon on a reinforcement of five hundred and fifty gauchos, or white deserters, whose assistance will be very useful to us. The total strength of the army is ninety-four thousand nine hundred and fifty men, with whom, if my brothers place confidence in me, we shall expel the Spaniards, and regain our territory within three months."
"Our father will command, and we obey."
"Never has a larger and more powerful army menaced the Spanish authority since Tahi Mahi's attempt upon Chili. The whites are ignorant of our projects, as I convinced myself at Carmen. Hence our sudden invasion will be to them a thunderbolt, and render them motionless with terror. On our approach they will be already half conquered. Lucaney, have you distributed all the weapons I sent you from Carmen to the warriors, who understand their use?"
"A corps of three thousand two hundred men is armed with muskets and bayonets, and abundantly provided with powder and ball."
"It is well. Lucaney, Churlakin, and Metipan will remain with me, and aid me in communicating with the other chiefs. And now, Ulmens, Apo-Ulmens, and caraskens of the united nations, listen to my orders, and engrave them deeply on your minds, for any disobedience or cowardice will immediately be punished by death."
There was a solemn silence. Nocobotha took a calm and haughty look round the assembly.
"In an hour," he continued, "the army will start in close columns. A cavalry corps will protect each infantry detachment. The army will extend along a line of twenty leagues, which will be concentrated on Carmen. All the chiefs will fire the country as they pass, in order that the smoke, impelled by the wind, may hide our movements and cover us like a thick curtain. The crops, estancias, and all property belonging to the whites, will be burned and levelled with the ground. The cattle will be sent to the rearguard to swell our booty. Show no mercy to the bomberos, but kill them on the spot. Killipan, with twelve thousand horsemen and ten thousand infantry, will command the rearguard, to which will be attached all the women of an age to fight, and it will set out six hours after the main body. Bear in mind that the warriors must advance in compact bodies, and not as stragglers. Be off, and make haste, for we must be in front of Carmen by daybreak tomorrow."
The chief bowed and silently defiled out of the toldo.
A few minutes later an extraordinary animation prevailed in the immense camp of the Indians. The squaws pulled down the toldos and loaded the mules; the warriors assembled to the sound of musical instruments; the children lassoed and saddled the horses; in short, hurried preparations were made for a start.
Gradually the disorder ceased. The ranks were formed, and several detachments started in different directions. Nocobotha, standing on the top of a mound, and accompanied by his three aides-de-camp, Lucaney, Churlakin, and Metipan, followed with a glass the movements of the army, which, within a quarter of an hour, was no longer visible. Already the plain was on fire and veiled the horizon with a black smoke.
Nocobotha descended the hill and went to the riverbank, where the four Ulmens got into a canoe, which they pulled themselves. They soon reached land, where twenty-five Aucas horsemen were waiting for them. The party set out on the trail of the army—a too visible trail, alas! The country so green and beautiful that very morning was gloomy, desolated and covered with ashes and ruins.
From a distance Pedrito and his brothers perceived the Indians, and although surrounded by a swarm of warriors, they succeeded, through their courage, in escaping from their enemies, with the exception of poor Juan, who was killed by an Indian lance. Pepe and Lopez, both wounded, went on in front to watch the movements of the invaders, while Pedrito, covered with dust and blood, galloped to give the alarm at Carmen.
This escape singularly annoyed Nocobotha and disarranged his combinations. Nevertheless, the army continued its march, and at nightfall the town could be seen through the growing obscurity. At the head of one hundred picked warriors, Nocobotha made a circuit and advanced on Población del Sur. All was silent, and the barricades seemed abandoned. The Indians succeeded in scaling them, and would have carried the town, had it not been for the vigilance of Major Bloomfield.
The great chief, not wishing to shake the confidence of his men by vain attempts, fell back and ordered a camp to be formed in front of the town. Pursuing tactics hitherto strange to the Indians, he made a parallel and ordered a wide ditch to be dug in the sand, the earth from which served to throw up a breastwork that defended them from the cannon.
Pincheira, as we know, was in Carmen for the purpose of arranging a revolt among the gauchos. As Nocobotha desired to come to an understanding with him as to the decisive attack, he sent towards the town a Chilian deserter who knew how to play the bugle, an instrument quite unused among the Aucas. This bugler bore a white flag in sign of peace, and asked for a parley. He was followed by Churlakin, Lucaney, Metipan, and Chaukata, who were ordered by the great Ulmen to make proposals to the governor of Carmen.
The four ambassadors, standing within half gunshot from the town, with their long lances planted before them, with the ostrich plume, the symbol of their dignity, flying out, were waiting motionless on their horses. Their leather armour was covered with coats of mail made of small rings, which had doubtless belonged to the soldiers of Almagro or Valdivia. The bugler, haughtily standing a few paces in front of them, waved his flag. The chiefs' steeds were armed with rich harness, embroidered with silver plates that sparkled in the sun's beams.
The Spanish pride suffered at the thought of treating on equal terms with these Pagans, to whom they even refused a soul, and whom they did not recognize as men. But it was necessary to gain time; perhaps the reinforcements from Buenos Aires were already under weigh.
The Indian bugler, wearied at receiving no answer to his two first summons, blew a third peal by Churlakin's order. A Spanish bugler at length replied from the interior of the town, and the barrier was opened, leaving a passage for a soldier, who carried a white flag, and was followed by an officer on horseback. This officer, it will be remembered, was Major Bloomfield, who, as an old soldier, was unwilling to appear before the Indians except in his full dress uniform.
He proceeded without hesitation towards the Ulmens, who, through their silver ornaments and their immobility, resembled at a distance equestrian statues.
Major Bloomfield, who had made up his mind to lose his life, had no weapons, not even a sword. He halted within hearing distance, and as he spoke decently the Aucas language, which he had learnt in previous campaigns, he had no need of an interpreter.
"What do you want, chiefs?" he asked in a loud, firm voice, with a ceremonious bow.
"Are you the man whom the whites call Don Antonio Valverde, and to whom they give the title of Governor?" Churlakin asked in his turn.
"No; our laws prohibit a governor leaving his post; but I am second in command, and he has sent me to you."
The Indians seemed to consult for a moment; then, leaving their long lances planted in the ground, they advanced towards the old officer, who did not evince the slightest surprise at this movement. Churlakin spoke in the name of all.
"My brother is brave," he said, astonished at the major's coolness.
"At my age," the old man replied, "death is a favour."
"My father bears on his forehead the snow of many winters; he must be one of the wisest chiefs of his nation, and the young men round the council fire listen to him respectfully."
"Say no more about me," the major said; "why have you asked for this interview?"
"Will not my father conduct us to the council fire of his nation?" Churlakin said, in an insinuating tone. "Is it honourable for great warriors, formidable chiefs, thus to discuss serious affairs on horseback between two armies?"
"No chief of the enemy can enter an invested town."
"Does my father fear that our force may take his city?" Churlakin continued with a laugh, though vexed in the highest degree at losing the hope of coming to an understanding with Pincheira.
"I am not accustomed to fear; I only tell you a rule you are ignorant of, that is all. If this pretext is sufficient to break off the interview, you are at liberty to do so, and I will withdraw."
"Oh, Oh! My father is quick for his age. Tell me what brings you here."
The Ulmens exchanged a glance, and a few whispered words. At length Churlakin continued—
"Has my father seen the great army of the Aucas?" he said.
"Yes," the major replied carelessly.
"And has my father, who is a white man and has great learning, counted the warriors?"
"Yes."
"Ah! And how many are they, according to his calculation?"
"Their number is but of slight consequence to us."
"Still," the Indian pressed, "does my father know how many they may be?"
"Two hundred thousand at the most."
The chiefs were struck by the negligent way in which the major doubled the strength of their army.
"My father," Churlakin continued, "is not terrified at the number of these warriors who obey a single chief."
"Why should I be so?" the major said, whose attention the surprise of the Ulmens had not escaped, "Has not my nation vanquished more numerous armies? But we are losing our time in useless words, chief."
"My father must have patience."
"Finish your Indian circumlocutions then."
"The army of the great nations is encamped in front of Carmen, in order to obtain satisfaction for all the wrongs the palefaces have made us endure since their invasion of America."
"Explain yourself clearly. Why do you invade our frontiers? Have we failed in our engagements? Of what do you complain?"
"My father pretends to be ignorant of the just motives for war we have against the whites. His nation has made a treaty with the white men who dwell on the other side of the mountains, and who are our enemies; hence, his nation has no friendship for us."
"Chief, this quarrel is ridiculous. Confess that you desire to plunder our farms, steal our cattle and horses, and I can understand you; but if we were at war with Chili, you would act in the same way. The jest has lasted too long; let us come to facts. What do you want?"
"My father is clever," Churlakin said, with a laugh. "Listen! this is what the chiefs say—'The Negro Ulmen, against our rights and his own, sold to my father's ancestors a land which did not belong to him, without the consent of the other Ulmens of the country.'"
"What next?" said the major.
"The chiefs assembled round the tree of Gualichu have resolved to give back to the great white chief all the objects from the first to the last formerly given to the Negro Ulmen, and take back the country which belongs to them."
"Is that all?"
"All."
"How long do the chiefs give the Governor of Carmen to discuss these propositions?"
"From sunrise to sunset."
"Very good," the old officer said, ironically; "and supposing that the governor refuses, what will my sons do?"
"The colony of the white men will be destroyed by fire, their warriors massacred, and their wives and children carried off into slavery."
"I will transmit your demands to the governor, and tomorrow at sunset, you will have his answer. You will, however, suspend hostilities till then?"
"Keep on your guard."
"Thanks for your frankness, chief; I am delighted to meet an Indian who is not an utter scoundrel. Good-bye till tomorrow."
"Tomorrow!" the chief repeated, courteously, and involuntarily affected by the old gentleman's noble bearing.
The major withdrew slowly to the barricades, where the colonel, alarmed by the long interview, had made all preparations to avenge the death of his old friend.
"Well?" he said, as he pressed his hand.
"They are trying to gain time," the major answered, "in order to play us one of their demon's tricks."
"What do they demand, though?"
"Impossibilities, colonel, and they are well aware of it, for they appeared to be laughing at us, when they submitted their absurd demands to me. The Negro cacique, they say, had no right to sell his territory, which they also say we must return to them in twenty-four hours, and then came the bede-roll of their usual threats. Ah! That is not all; they are ready to repay us all that the Negro cacique received for the sale of his lands."
"Why," Don Antonio interrupted, "the fellows must be mad."
"No, colonel, they are robbers."
At this moment, tremendous shouts were heard at the barriers, and the two officers hurried up in all haste.
Four or five thousand horses, apparently free but whose invisible riders were concealed, according to the Indian fashion, along their flanks, were coming at a frightful pace against the barricades. Two rounds of canister produced disorder in their ranks, without checking their speed, and they fell like lightning on the defenders of Población del Sur. Then began one of those terrific fights of the Indian frontier, a cruel and indescribable contest, in which no prisoners were made, thebolas perdidas, thelaquis, the bayonet, and the lance, were their sole weapons. The Indians were immediately reinforced, but the Spaniards did not give way an inch. This desperate struggle lasted for about two hours; the Patagonians seemed to give ground, and the Argentines redoubled their efforts to drive them back to their camp, when, suddenly, the cry was heard behind them—
"Treachery! Treachery!"
The major and the colonel, who were fighting in the front rank of the soldiers and volunteers, turned round; they were caught between two fires.
Pincheira, dressed in the uniform of a Chilian officer, was prancing at the head of a hundred gauchos, more or less intoxicated, who followed him, yelling—
"Pillage! Pillage!"
The two veteran officers exchanged a long, sad glance, and their determination was formed in a second.
The colonel hurled among the Indians a barrel of gunpowder, with a lighted fuse, which swept them off, as the wind sweeps the dust, and put them to flight. The Argentines, at the major's command, wheeled round and charged the gauchos, commanded by Pincheira. These bandits, with their sabres and bolas in their hands, dashed at the Argentines, who slipped into the open doors of the abandoned houses, in a narrow street, where the gauchos could not manoeuvre their horses. The Argentines, who were skilful marksmen, did not throw away a shot; they fell back on the river bank, and kept up a well-sustained fire on the gauchos, who had turned back, and on the Aucas, who had again escaladed the barricades, while the guns of the fort scattered canister and death among them.
The white men crossed the river without any risk, and their enemies installed themselves in the Población del Sur, filling the air with triumphant hurrahs.
The colonel ordered considerable works to be thrown up on the river bank, and placed in them two batteries, of six guns each whose fire crossed.
Through the treachery of the gauchos the Indians had seized Población del Sur, which, however, was not the key of the place; but this negative success entailed an enormous loss upon them. The colonists, through this, saw their communications interrupted with the estancias on the opposite bank, but luckily the farmers had come into Upper Carmen beforehand with their horses and cattle, and the boats were all moored under the batteries of the fort which protected them. The suburb captured by the assailants was, consequently, entirely empty.
On one side, the Argentines congratulated themselves at having no longer to defend a dangerous and useless post; on the other, the Aucas asked themselves of what good this dearly acquired suburb would prove to them.
Three gauchos, during the fight, were dragged from their horses by the Argentines and made prisoners. One of them was Pincheira, the second Panchito, and the third a man of the name of Diego. A council of war, assembled in the open air, sentenced them to the gallows.
"Well, Diego," asked Panchito, "where is Pincheira?"
"The scoundrel has escaped," honest Panchito replied; "deserter from the army, deserter from the gallows! That is the way in which he breaks all his engagements. He will come to a very bad end."
"Our affair seems clear enough," Diego said with a sigh.
"Nonsense! A little sooner or a little later, what's the odds?"
"The gallows seems to tickle your fancy, Panchito."
"Not exactly," the other answered; "but for four generations my family have been hanged, from father to son; we quite expect it. What will the fiend do with my soul?"
"I do not know."
"Nor do I."
During this edifying conversation two lofty gallows had been erected a little outside the intrenchments on the river bank, in the sight of the whole population and of the gauchos, who, grouped in the Población del Sur, yelled with rage. Panchito and Diego were hung as a warning example; abando, affixed at the foot of the ladder, threatened every insurgent gaucho with the same fate.
While this was going on, night set in, illumined by the burning faubourg conquered by the Indians. The flames tinged the hapless town with fantastic gleams, and the inhabitants, plunged in a gloomy stupor, said to themselves that the flames would soon cross the road and reduce Carmen to ashes. The governor seemed made of iron; he did not take a moment's rest, he visited the forts, heightened drooping spirits, and tried to imbue all with hopes which were far from his heart. As for the Indians, they made two attempts to surprise the town, and, just before dawn, retired to their camp.
"Major," the colonel said, "it is not possible to deceive ourselves. Tomorrow, the day after, or in a week, all will be over with us."
"Hum! At the last moment we will blow up the fort."
"We are deprived of even that resource."
"Why so?"
"Old soldiers, such as we are, cannot thus dispose of the lives of others."
"You are right," the major continued, precisely; "we will blow out our brains."
"Nor can we do that either, my friend; for we must be the last on the breach."
"But," the major said, after a short silence, for the undeniable reasoning of his superior had crushed him, "how is it that we have received no news yet from Buenos Aires?"
"They have something else to do there than think about us."
"Oh! I cannot believe that."
A slave announced Don Torribio Carvajal.
Don Torribio came in, dressed in the splendid uniform of a colonel in the Argentine army, with an aide-de-camp's badge on his left arm. The two officers, on his entrance, felt an inward tremor Don Torribio bowed to them.
"Is it really you, Don Torribio?" the colonel asked.
"Well, I suppose so," he answered, with a smile.
"And your long journey?"
"I have just arrived."
"And this uniform?"
"Well, gentlemen, as I was tired of being regarded in the colony as a mysterious being, a sorcerer, a vampire, or something of the sort, I resolved to become a man, like the rest of you."
"Then you are—?"
"An officer, like yourself, colonel, and, in addition, aide-de-camp to General Rosas."
"It is prodigious," Don Antonio remarked.
"Why so? nothing is more simple, on the contrary."
A strange suspicion had entered the major's mind at Don Torribio's unexpected arrival, a suspicion which only disappeared after he made the following remark:—
"Yes," he continued, "I am a colonel. In addition, the President of the Republic has intrusted me with a message, which I feel sure will please you."
And he took from the breast of his uniform a large despatch, sealed with the Argentine arms. The colonel, with the permission of the two officers, opened and perused the mission, and unbounded delight was depicted on his face.
"Oh, oh!" he exclaimed, "two hundred and fifty men! I did not expect such a reinforcement."
"The president is very anxious about the colony," Don Torribio said, "and will spare no sacrifice to preserve it."
"¡Viva Dios!Thanks to that succour. Don Torribio, I care no more for the Indians than a wisp of straw."
"It seems that the troops will not arrive too soon."
"It was only just in time, canario," the governor replied imprudently. "Where are your men?"
"They will arrive within an hour."
"What are they?"
"Gauchos."
"Hum!" said the colonel, "I should have preferred any other troops. However, it is of no consequence. With your permission, I will go to meet them."
"I am at your orders."
"Shall I go with you?" the major asked.
"That would be better still," Torribio observed quickly.
"No, major," said Don Antonio. "Stay here, for who knows what may happen during my absence. Come, Don Torribio."
The latter smiled; and it would have been difficult to say what the smile meant. He went out, accompanied by the colonel, and they mounted their horses. As they left the fort a man passed them, walking at a quick pace.
"Pedrito!" Don Torribio muttered to himself; "Providing that he has not recognized me! All is well."
Pedrito followed his sister without saying a word, and almost as much astonished as Don Valentine and her daughter at Mercedes' devotion. She led him to her bedroom, a charming retreat, full of shade and fresh air. While the bombero eagerly surveyed all the objects, Mercedes, sighing and ready to weep, took a parting glance at her well-beloved room; but she had the courage to repress her tears.
"Sit down, brother. I have a great service to ask of you."
"Hang it! A service, little sister? Why assume so solemn an air for such a simple thing?"
"Because it is difficult."
"Nothing is impossible to please you. What is the matter?"
"Swear to me, first, to grant what I am about to ask of you."
"Go on, child, and do not trouble yourself about the rest," Pedrito said, with a hearty laugh.
"No. I must have your oath."
"I have taken it; that is understood, I have all the gravity of an Indian idol."
"You are laughing at me," she said, with tears in her eyes.
"Confound the women!" Pedrito remarked; "They can always twirl men round their fingers. Come, silly child, do not cry any more. I swear to obey your whims. Tell me what it is all about."
"I have promised Doña Concha, my dear brother, to give her within three days news about Don Sylvio."
"What next?"
"I wish to perform my promise."
"The deuce."
"And for that I have counted on you."
"On me?"
"Yes."
"How can I help you?"
"Without you the affair is impracticable."
"In that case, little sister, I am greatly afraid that—"
"Remember your oath."
"Go on. I am listening."
"I have lived a long time among the Indians, whose manners and language I am acquainted with. I intend to get into their camp unnoticed, in order to learn where Don Sylvio is."
"Good-bye, Mercedes."
"And your oath, brother?" she said, placing herself before the door.
"I shall not keep it; and if Heaven thinks that I ought, we will argue the point together."
She looked at her brother for a moment in silence. "You are quite resolved?" she continued.
"Quite."
"Then, I shall go alone."
"What," Pedrito exclaimed, as he rushed towards her, "Do you wish to be the death of me, then?"
Mercedes made no reply.
"Go away, brother. I will do without you."
"Come on! I will follow you. Oh, these women!" the bombero muttered.
"We shall succeed," she exclaimed, joyfully.
"Yes, in getting ourselves killed."
"Let us be off, brother," she said, placing under her arm a small bundle of clothing.
Mercedes, fearing the emotion of a farewell scene, avoided Doña Concha.
Patito had got two horses in readiness, which speedily carried brother and sister far from the estancia. At the battery the capataz was waiting for them.
"Señorita," he said to Mercedes, "you are a noble girl, Heaven will aid and bless you."
"Don Blas," Mercedes answered, with a smile, as she drew from her bosom a small gold cross Doña Concha had given her, and broke the velvet neck ribbon, "take this cross, and keep it in remembrance of me."
The two travellers had been galloping a long time ere the capataz left off kissing the cross, while thinking that its usual resting place was on the maiden's heart. Pedrito and his sister rode side by side without exchanging a word, for both were plunged in deep thought.
"How far have we to go?" Mercedes asked all at once.
"Two leagues."
After a while they heard the footfall of a horse behind them; they turned, and perceived Patito, who was making signals to them, and the gaucho soon joined them.
"My mistress is following me," he said.
Doña Concha, dressed in male clothing, came up at the full speed of her horse.
"Ah," she said, on joining them, "I trembled lest I should miss you."
"Are we to turn back Pedrito asked, with a fugitive gleam of hope."
"No, no; on the contrary; push on," Concha replied.
"Where are you going, señorita?"
"I am following you."
"What?" he said, fancying he misunderstood her.
"I guessed your plan, Mercedes, and mean to share its perils."
"That is fine, señorita!" Pedrito exclaimed.
"She is right," Mercedes said simply; "that will be better."
"You, Patito," Concha said, "can go back; I have no need of your services."
"Forgive me, but with your permission I will remain; I am not wanted at the estancia, and, though I do not know where you are going, two strong arms are worth keeping."