"What then?" the General, vexed at this ill-timed remark, said, sharply.
"Get me away from here, and I will cry quits."
"You are a fool, Don Ramón; do you think if I could get safely away from here, that I would remain?"
"I see what you are," said the senator, despondingly; "you are but a false friend, you desire my death, you thirst for my blood."
In short, the poor man was almost mad; he knew not what he said, terror had deprived him of the little sense he ever possessed. But, in reality, the position became every instant more critical; the carnage was horrible, the soldiers fell one after another beneath the bullets of the insurgents, who were sheltered by every corner of the plaza. Two or three sorties attempted by the troops had been vigorously repulsed; and hence, decimated as they were, all they could possibly do now was to prevent their intrenchments from being carried.
All at once the senator bounded forward like a chamois; he made directly to the General, and seized his arm.
"We are saved!" he cried; "thanks be to God! we are saved!"
"Hilloh! what's the matter now, Don Ramón? What bee has stung you? are you really mad?"
"I have not been stung," the senator replied, as fast as he could speak, "nor am I mad; we are saved; I tell you, we are saved!"
"Well, how? what is it? Is Don Pancho coming at last?"
"Don Pancho, indeed! I wish he were at the devil!" "Well, what is it, then?"
"Why, do you not see, yonder? look, behind the barricade which blocks the entrance of the Calle de la Merced."
"What is there to see?"
"Why, a flag of truce! a white flag!"
"Ah!" said the General, eagerly, "let us look! let us look!"
And he did look.
"True!" he said, at the expiration of a minute. "Success to all cowards, say I, for having good eyes; I did not see it."
"Ay, but I did," said Don Ramón, rubbing his hands, quite revived, and marching off with great glee. But, at that moment, a nearly spent ball came ricocheting and whizzing close to his ear.
"Lord, have mercy upon me!" he cried, falling flat on his face, and so remaining, as motionless as if he were dead, although he had not received a scratch.
In the meantime, the General had likewise caused a flag of truce to be hoisted on his intrenchments, and had given orders for the firing to cease. The noise of the combat being hushed, the senator, like a rabbit relieved from alarm, raised his head a little; reassured by the silence which prevailed, he sat up, looking on all sides with the greatest anxiety, and, at length, convinced that the peril was over, he contrived to get upon his legs, which, however, trembled so frightfully under him, that they could scarcely support him.
As soon as the flag of truce was hoisted, firing at once ceased on both sides. The troops at bay, who had ceased to hope for succour, were not sorry to find that the insurgents saved their military honour by being the first to demand a parley. General Cornejo, in particular, was tired of the hopeless combat, which he had bravely maintained all the morning.
"Well, Don Ramón," he said, addressing the senator in a more cordial tone than he had before employed, "I think I have found means to enable you to escape without striking a blow; so what we agreed to stands good, does it not?"
The senator looked at him with a bewildered air; the worthy man had not the least recollection of what he had either said or done while the balls were whistling round him.
"I do not at all understand you, General," he replied.
"Poor man! pretend to be innocent, do!" said the General, laughing, and slapping him on the shoulder; "do you wish to persuade me you are like the Guanacos, which lose their memory through trembling with fear?"
"Upon my honour," said the senator, "I swear, Don Tiburcio, that I have not the least remembrance of having promised you anything."
"Ah! well, it is possible, for you were devilishly frightened. Come, I will refresh your memory: pay attention!"
"You will give me great pleasure."
"Well, I doubt that! but that is of no consequence. You said to me, on the spot where we now stand, not more than half an hour ago, that if I found the means of securing your escape, safe and sound, you would hold me quits for the two thousand piastres I lost to you, and owed you."
"Do you flatter yourself that that is the truth?" said the senator, whose avaricious instincts began to revive, as fear departed.
"I am sure it is. Ask these gentlemen," the General asked, turning towards some officers who stood by.
"Oh, certainly! true to the letter," they said, with a laugh.
"Ah! ah!"
"Yes, and as I would not listen to you, you added—"
"What!" Don Ramón, who knew of old the man he had to deal with, said, with a start—"do you mean to say that I added something?"
"The devil! yes," said the other. "You added this; and I repeat your own words. You said, as plainly as you could speak—'And I will give a thousand piastres in addition.'"
"Oh, that is not possible!" the senator ejaculated, quite beside himself.
"Perhaps I did not understand you?"
"That must be it."
"Do you admit you mentioned the two thousand?" asked the General, quietly.
"Not at all! not at all!" replied Don Ramón, quite confounded by the laughter of the bystanders.
"Perhaps you meant more; well, we will not haggle about that."
"I never said a word of the kind!" the exasperated senator exclaimed.
"In that case," said the General, with a stern frown, and surveying him coolly, "you mean to say that I have told a falsehood."
Don Ramón became aware that he had made a false move, and drew back.
"Pardon me, my dear General," he said, in the most amiable voice possible, "you are perfectly right; I do now remember it was two thousand piastres I promised you in addition."
It was now the General's turn to be at a loss, for this generosity on the part of the senator, whose avarice was proverbial, confused him; he was suspicious of some snare or trick.
"But," Don Ramón added, with an air of triumph, "you have not saved me."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Why, Santiago! as we are going to hold a parley, you are too late, and our bargain is void."
"Oh! oh!" said Don Tiburcio, with a jeering smile, "you think so, do you?"
"Caspita! I am sure of it."
"And yet you are deceived, my dear friend, as you shall judge: come with me, the flag of truce is now crossing the barricades, and in an instant you will learn that you have never been so near death as now."
"You are joking."
"I never joke about serious circumstances."
"In Heaven's name explain yourself!" said the poor senator, whose fears had all returned.
"Lord! it is the simplest thing in the world," said the General, carelessly; "I have but to declare to the leader of the revolt, and be assured I will not fail to do so, that I only acted by your orders."
"Well, but that is not true," interrupted Don Ramón, in great alarm.
"I know that," the General replied, bluntly; "but, as you are a senator, they will believe me, and you will be fully and fairly shot, and that will be a pity."
Don Ramón was thunderstruck by this piece of implacable logic; he found that he was in a hobble, from which he could not possibly escape without paying handsomely. He looked at hisfriend, who surveyed him with a pitilessly ironical smile, whilst the officers bit their lips to keep from laughing; he stifled a sigh, and resolving to make the best of it, very much against his will, he said, inwardly cursing the man who exposed him in such a cynical fashion—
"Well, Don Tiburcio, I admit that I owe you two thousand piastres, butIwill pay you."
This was the only epigram he ventured to indulge in regarding the General's willingness to pay; but the latter was magnanimous, he took no notice of the offensive part of the speech, and rendered quite cheerful by the bargain he had concluded, he prepared to listen to the propositions of the officer with the flag of truce, who was brought to him with his eyes bandaged. This officer was Don Tadeo de Leon.
"What do you come here for?" the General asked.
"To offer you good terms, if you will surrender," Don Tadeo replied, in a firm voice.
"Surrender!" the General shouted with a laugh; "you must be mad, sir!" and, turning towards the soldiers who had brought Don Tadeo, he added, "Remove the bandage from the eyes of this caballero."
The bandage fell accordingly.
"Look round you," said the General, haughtily, "do we look like people asking for a favour?"
"No, General, you are a stout soldier, and your troops are brave; you ask no favour of us, it is we who come to you to offer to lay down our arms on both sides, and put an end to this fratricidal contest," Don Tadeo replied, with an air of grandeur.
"Who are you, may I ask, sir?" said the General, struck with the noble bearing of the man who was speaking to him.
"I am Don Tadeo de Leon, whom your leader ordered to be shot."
"You!" cried the General, "you here!"
"I, myself; and I have another name."
"Tell it to me, sir."
"I am called the King of Darkness."
"The leader of the Dark-Hearts!" the General murmured, starting, in spite of himself, and surveying the speaker with uneasy curiosity.
"Yes, General, I am the leader of the Dark-Hearts, but I am still something more."
"Explain yourself, sir," the General asked, who began to be in doubt how to behave toward the strange personage who was speaking to him.
"I am the leader of the men whom you term insurgents, but who have, in reality, only taken up arms to defend the institutions you have overthrown, and the constitution you have violated."
"Sir!" said the General, "your words——"
"Are severe, but just," continued Don Tadeo; "ask your own loyal, soldier's heart, General, and then tell me which side is right."
"I am not a lawyer, sir," Don Tiburcio replied impatiently; "you have yourself said that I am a soldier, and, as such, I confine myself to obeying, without discussion, the orders I receive from my leaders."
"Let us not lose time uselessly in idle speeches, sir; will you, or will you not, lay down your arms?"
"By what right do you make me such a proposal?" the General asked, whose pride revolted at being forced to hold a parley with a citizen.
"I could answer you," replied Don Tadeo, sternly, "that it is by the right of the stronger, and that you know as well as I do that you are combating for a lost cause, and that you are persisting without advantage in a senseless struggle; but I prefer addressing myself to your heart, and saying, why should brothers and fellow countrymen continue to cut each other's throats?—why should we any longer shed such precious blood? Make your conditions, General, and be assured that for the sake of protecting your soldier's honour, that honour which is ours also, as among the troops against whom we fight are our relations, friends, and countrymen, we will grant them as extensively as you can desire."
The General felt himself moved, this noble language had found an echo in his heart; he looked down on the ground, and reflected for several minutes; at length, raising his head, he replied—
"Sir, believe me it costs me much not to answer as I could wish what you have done me the honour to say to me; but I have a leader above me."
"In your turn please to explain yourself, sir," said Don Tadeo.
"I have sworn to Don Pancho Bustamente to defend his cause to the death."
"Well?"
"Well, sir, unless Don Pancho Bustamente were killed or a prisoner,—in either of which cases I should consider myself freed from my oath to him,—I will lay down my life for him."
"Is that the only reason that prevents you, General?"
"Yes, the only one."
"In case General Bustamente should be either killed or a prisoner, you would surrender?"
"Instantly, I repeat."
"Well," replied Don Tadeo, stretching out his arm in the direction of the barricade by which he had come, "look yonder, General."
Don Tiburcio looked in the direction indicated, and uttered a cry of surprise and sorrow. Don Pancho Bustamente appeared at the top of the barricade; his head was bare, and two armed men watched all his movements.
"Do you see him?" Don Tadeo asked.
"Yes," replied the General, sorrowfully; "we all surrender, sir;" and turning the point of his sword to the ground, he bent the blade with the intention of breaking it. Don Tadeo stopped him by seizing the sword, which he, however, returned to him immediately, saying—
"General, keep that weapon, it will serve you against the enemies of our country."
The General made no reply; he silently pressed the hand which the King of Darkness held out to him, and turning away to conceal the emotion which agitated him, he wiped away a tear that had fallen upon his grey moustache.
The city was quiet, the revolt was over, or, to speak more logically, the revolution was complete. The soldiers, after laying down their arms, had evacuated Valdivia, which was left completely in the power of the Dark-Hearts. As soon as peace was re-established, the Dark-Hearts gave orders that the barricades should be destroyed, and that all traces of the sanguinary struggle should be removed as quickly as possible. By the force of accomplished facts alone, Don Tadeo de Leon found himself quite naturally invested with power, and in command of the province, with the faculties of a dictator.
"Well," he asked Valentine, "what do you think of what you have seen?"
"Faith," the Parisian replied, with characteristic bluntness, "I think people must come to America to see how men can be caught with hook and line like simple gudgeons."
Don Tadeo could not refrain from smiling at this whimsical answer.
"Do not leave me," he said; "all is not over yet."
"I ask no better; but, our friends yonder, don't you think they will be very uneasy at our long absence?"
"Can you for a moment imagine that I have forgotten them? Within an hour you will be at liberty. Come with me; I want to show you two faces to which our victory has given an expression very different from that which they generally wear."
"That will be curious," said Valentine.
"Yes," Don Tadeo replied, "or hideous, whichever you please."
"Hum! man is not perfect," said Valentine, philosophically.
"Fortunately not; if he were, he would be execrable," Don Tadeo remarked.
They entered the cabildo, the doors of which were guarded by a detachment of Dark-Hearts. The vast saloons of the palace were invaded by an eager crowd, who came to salute the rising sun; that is to say, they came to offer the spectacle of their baseness to the fortunate man, whom, no doubt, they would have stoned if success had not crowned his audacious attempt. Don Tadeo passed, without seeing them, through the ranks of these sycophants, the sworn courtiers of every authority, as void of honour as of shame, possessing but one single talent—that of making bendings to which it would seem impossible that the vertebral column of a man could attain, however flexible it may be. Valentine, who followed the footsteps of his friend, feigned to take for himself the greater part of the genuflexions meant for Don Tadeo, and bowed to the right and left with imperturbable coolness and assurance.
The two gentlemen, after many delays caused by the increasing crowd, which closed around them, reached at last a retired apartment, in which there were only two persons. These two persons were General Tiburcio and Senator Don Ramón Sandias. The physiognomy of these persons offered a striking contrast. The General, with a sad face and a pensive step, walked about the apartment, whilst the senator, luxuriantly reclining on a fauteuil, with a smile upon his lips, his visage expanded, and one leg thrown over the other, was fanning himself carelessly with an embroidered handkerchief of the finest cambric. At the sight of Don Tadeo, the General advanced rapidly towards him; as for the senator, he sat upright in his chair, assumed a serious look, and waited.
"Sir," the General said, in a low voice, "two words."
"Speak, General," replied Don Tadeo; "I am entirely at your disposal."
"I have some questions which I wish to put to you."
"You may be assured, General, that if it be in my power to answer you, I will not hesitate to satisfy you."
"I am convinced of that, and it is that which emboldens me to speak."
"I am all attention."
The General hesitated for a moment, but seemed at length determined.
"Good heavens, sir!" said he, "I am an old soldier, unacquainted with diplomacy; I had a friend, almost a brother, and I am a prey to mortal uneasiness on his account."
"And that friend?"
"Is General Bustamente. You must know," he added, warmly, "that we have been fellow soldiers thirty years; and I should wish—" here he stopped, as if in doubt, looking earnestly at the person he was addressing.
"You would like?" said Don Tadeo, quietly.
"To know the fate that is reserved for him."
Don Tadeo gave the General a melancholy glance.
"To what purpose?" he murmured.
"I beg of you."
"You insist on knowing?"
"I do."
"General Bustamente is a great criminal. While a leader in power, he wished to change the form of government against the will of the people from whom he held his position, and in contempt of the laws, which he shamelessly trampled underfoot."
"That is but too true," said the General, whose brow turned crimson.
"General Bustamente has been implacable during the course of his too long career; you know that he who sows the wind can only hope to reap the tempest."
"Hence!"
"The same implacability will be shown to him that he has shown to others."
"That is to say?"
"He will, in all probability, be condemned to death."
"Alas! I expected as much; but will this condemnation of which you speak, be long delayed?"
"Two days at most; the commission which must try him will be formed today."
"Poor friend!" said the General, piteously; "and that's the end! Will you grant me a favour, sir?"
"Name it."
"As the General must die, it would be a consolation to him to have a friend by his side."
"No doubt it would."
"Allow me to be his guard. I am sure he will be happy to know that it is I who have the duty of watching over him and leading him to death. And then I shall not, at least, abandon him till the last minute."
"So be it,—your request is granted. Have you anything else to say? I shall be happy to serve you."
"No, I thank you, sir; that is all I desired,—Ah! one word more!"
"Speak."
"Can I be allowed to take this guard soon?"
"Immediately, if you like."
"I thank you, sir."
And after profoundly bowing to Don Tadeo, the General quitted the room with a hasty step.
"Poor man!" said Valentine.
"Eh?" cried Don Tadeo.
"I said, poor man!"
"Oh, yes; I heard you plainly enough, but of whom were you speaking?"
"Of the unfortunate man who has just left us."
Don Tadeo shrugged his shoulders, and Valentine looked at him with surprise.
"Do you think you know whence the solicitude of this poor man, as you call him, for his friend arises?"
"Why, from his friendship for him; that is clear."
"You think so, do you?"
"I can think nothing else."
"Well, then, allow me to tell you you are completely mistaken; the poor General is only desirous to be near his companion in arms, that he may have the opportunity of suppressing the proofs of his complicity in the rash enterprise of yesterday; proofs which Don Pancho most likely has about him, and which the other wishes to destroy at all hazards."
"Can that be possible?"
"By Saint Jago, yes! He desires to be constantly with him, that he may not communicate with anyone—why, he would kill him, if necessary."
"Oh! this is infamous!"
"But so it is."
"Bah! it gives me a nausea."
"Well, do not be sick yet."
"Why not?"
"Because," Don Tadeo continued, pointing to the senator, "I think we have something here that will bring the agreeable feeling to its height."
As soon as Don Ramón saw the General leave the apartment, he quitted his easy chair, and advanced towards Don Tadeo, bowing obsequiously.
"To whom have I the honour of speaking?" said the King of Darkness, with studied politeness.
"Sir," the other replied, with a jaunty, gentlemanly air, "my name is Don Ramón Sandias, and I am a senator."
"How can I be of service to you, sir?" said Don Tadeo, bowing.
"Oh," Don Ramón replied, affectedly; "as regards myself, personally, I ask nothing."
"Indeed!"
"Caspita! no; I am rich, what more can I want? But I am a Chilian, a patriot, sir; and, what is more, a senator. Placed in an exceptional position, I am bound to give my fellow citizens unequivocal proofs of my devotion to the holy cause of liberty. Are you not of my opinion, sir?"
"Entirely."
"I have heard, sir, that the wretched cabecilla, the cause of this silly movement, which brought the republic within two inches of ruin, is in your hands."
"Yes, sir," replied Don Tadeo, with imperturbable coolness, "we have been fortunate enough to obtain possession of his person."
"You are, doubtless, going to bring this man to trial?" Don Ramón asked, in a somewhat familiar tone.
"Within forty-eight hours, sir."
"That is right, sir. It is thus that justice should be dealt to these shameless agitators, who, in contempt of the sacred laws of humanity, seek to plunge our beautiful country into the gulf of revolutions."
"Sir!"
"Pardon me for speaking thus," said Don Ramón, with well-feigned enthusiasm; "I feel that my freedom goes rather far, but my indignation carries me away, sir; it is quite time that these makers of widows and orphans should receive the exemplary chastisement they merit. I cannot think, without trembling, of the manifold evils that would have fallen upon us, if this miserable adventurer had succeeded."
"Sir, this man is not yet condemned."
"And that is exactly what brings me to you, sir. As a senator, and a devoted patriot, I claim of you the right which belongs to me, of presiding over the commission whose duty it is to sit in judgment upon him."
"Your request is granted, sir," Don Tadeo replied, who was unable to repress a smile of contempt.
"Thank you, sir!" said the senator, with an expression of joy; "however painful the duty may be, I shall know how to perform it."
After bowing deeply to Don Tadeo, the senator left the room in high spirits.
"You see," said Don Tadeo, turning to Valentine, "Don Pancho had two friends upon whom he thought he could depend: one took upon him to proclaim him, the other to defend him. Well, in one he finds a gaoler, in the other an executioner."
"It is monstrous!" said Valentine, with disgust.
"No," replied Don Tadeo; "it is logical, that's all;—he has failed."
"I have had enough of your politic men, with two faces, and neither of them a true one," replied Valentine; "allow me to return to our friends."
"Begone, then, since you wish it."
"Thanks!"
"You will come back to Valdivia immediately, will you not?"
"Pardieu, will I!"
"Will you have an escort?"
"For what purpose?"
"Ah! that is true; I am always forgetting that you never apprehend danger."
"I am only anxious about our friends; that is why I leave you."
"Have you any cause for apprehension?"
"None; but yet, a vague uneasiness, which I can not account for, compels me to remain no longer away from them."
"Begone, then, as quickly as you please, my friend; but pray be watchful over the poor child, Rosario."
"Be at ease on that score; within three hours she shall be here."
"That is understood: a pleasant ride to you, and remember that I shall look for you with impatience."
"Time to go and return, that is all."
"Till then, adieu!"
Valentine left the room, went straight to the stables, saddled his horse himself, and set off at a gallop. He had told Don Tadeo the truth: a vague uneasiness disturbed him, he had a presentiment of some misfortune or another.
Let us return to the Count de Prébois Crancé. When the abduction was committed, that part of the plain where Don Tadeo had pitched his camp was deserted. The crowd, attracted by curiosity, had all gone to the side where the renewal of the treaties was taking place. Besides, the measures of the ravishers had been so judiciously taken, all had passed so quickly, without resistance, without cries or tumult, that no alarm had been given, and no one could suspect what was going on. The cries of "murder!" uttered by the wounded young man were too faint to be heard, and the pistol shots he had fired were confounded with the other noises of the festival.
Louis remained for a considerable time lying senseless in front of the tent, the blood flowing from two wounds. By a singular chance, the peons, the arrieros, and even the two Indian chiefs, who could not think there was anything to be dreaded, had all gone, as we have said, to be present at the ceremony. When the cross had been planted, and the toqui and the General had gone, arm in arm, to the tent of the latter, the crowd began to separate into little groups, and soon dispersed, each returning to the spot where he had established his temporary camp.
The Indian chiefs were the first to quit the scene; now that their curiosity was satisfied, they reproached themselves for having been so long absent from their friend. On approaching the little camp, they were surprised at not seeing Louis, and a certain appearance of disorder in the baggage filled them with uneasiness. They quickened their pace, and the nearer they drew the more evident this disorder became in their eyes, accustomed to remark those thousands of signs which escape the eyes of the white man. In fact, the passage left free in the inclosure formed by the bales, seemed to have been the scene of a struggle; the footmarks of several horses were strongly imprinted in the moist earth, and some bales had even been removed, as if to widen the entrance, and lay scattered about. All these indications were more than sufficient for the chiefs; they exchanged an anxious glance, and rushed into the camp.
Louis was still lying where the assassins had left him, stretched across the entrance of the tent, his discharged pistols in his hands, his head thrown back, his mouth half open, and his teeth clenched. The blood had ceased to flow. The two men looked at him for a moment with a feeling of stupor. His countenance was of a livid paleness.
"He is dead!" said Curumilla, in a voice stifled by emotion.
"He seems so," Trangoil-Lanec replied as he knelt down by the body.
He raised the young man's senseless head, untied his cravat, and opened his vest; then they perceived the two gaping wounds.
"This is a revenge!" he murmured.
"What is to be done?" said Curumilla, shaking his head discouragingly.
"Let us try to recover him—I hope he is not dead."
And then, with infinite address and incredible celerity, the two Indians bestowed upon the wounded man the most intelligent and most effective cares. For a long time all were useless. At length a sigh, faint as a breath, exhaled painfully from the oppressed breast of the young man; a slight flush tinted his cheeks, and, after several efforts, he opened his eyes. Curumilla, after having washed the wounds with clean cold water, applied a cataplasm to them of bruised oregano leaves.
"Loss of blood alone has made him faint," he said; "the wounds are wide, but not deep, and not at all dangerous."
"But what has been going on here?" Trangoil-Lanec asked.
"Hush!" said Curumilla, laying his hand upon his comrade's arm; "he speaks."
Indeed, the young man's lips did move silently; but, at length, he pronounced with a great effort, and in a voice so low that the Indians scarcely heard it—that single word which for him contained everything—
"Rosario!"
Then he sank back again.
"Ah!" cried Curumilla, as if a sudden light had broken upon him, "where is the young palefaced maiden?" and he sprang into the tent, "I understand it all now!" he said, returning quickly to his friend.
The Indians lifted up the wounded man gently in their arms, and carried him into the tent, where they placed him in Rosario's empty hammock. Louis recovered his senses, but almost immediately was overcome by a profound drowsiness. After having made him as comfortable as they could, the two Indians left the tent, and began, with the instinct of their race, to seek on the ground for indications they could ask of no witness, but which would show them traces they could understand. Now that the murder and the abduction had taken place, it became necessary to get upon the track of the ravishers, and endeavour, if possible, to save the young girl. After minute researches, which did not last less than two hours, the Indians returned to the front of the tent; they sat down, face to face, and smoked for a few minutes in silence.
The peons and arrieros had returned from the ceremony, and expressed the greatest terror on learning what had taken place during their absence. The poor people did not know what to do; they trembled when they reflected upon the responsibility which rested upon them, and upon the terrible account Don Tadeo would require of them. After the two chiefs had smoked a few minutes, they extinguished their pipes, and Trangoil-Lanec began:
"My brother is a wise chief, let him say what he has seen."
"I will speak, since my brother desires it," Curumilla replied, bowing his head; "the pale maiden with the blue eyes has been carried off by five horsemen."
To this Trangoil-Lanec made a sign of assent.
"These five horsemen came from the other side of the river; their footmarks are strongly imprinted on the ground, which was wetted in the places where the horses trod with their dripping hoofs; four of these horsemen are Huiliches, the fifth is a paleface; when they reached the entrance of the camp, they stopped and consulted an instant, then four of them dismounted; the trace of their footsteps is visible."
"Good!" said Trangoil-Lanec, "my brother has the eyes of a Quanaco; nothing escapes him."
"Of the four horsemen who dismounted, three are Indians, as is easily perceived by the impression of their naked feet, the great toe of which, accustomed to the stirrup, is very wide apart from the other toes; but the fourth is a Muruche, for the rowels of his spurs have left deep marks all around. The three first have crept up to the tent, where Don Louis was talking with the young blue-eyed maiden, and, consequently, with his back towards those who came towards him; he was attacked unexpectedly, and fell without having time to defend himself: then the fourth horseman sprang forward like a puma, seized the maiden in his arms, and after jumping a second time over the body of Don Louis, went straight to his horse, followed by the three Indians. But Don Louis got up, first on his knees, and then on his feet; he fired his pistols at the ravishers, and one of them fell mortally wounded. It was the paleface, for a pool of blood marks the place of his fall, and, in his agony, he pulled up the grass with his clenched hands; then his companions dismounted again, took him up, and fled. Don Louis, after discharging his pistols, had a faintness come over him, and fell down again: that is what I have learnt."
"Good!" Trangoil-Lanec replied, "my brother knows everything; after taking up the body of their comrade, the ravishers crossed the river, and went in the direction of the mountains. Now, what will my brother do?"
"Trangoil-Lanec is an experienced chief, he will wait for Don Valentine; Curumilla is younger, he will go upon the track of the ravishers."
"My brother has spoken well; he is wise and prudent; he will find them."
"Yes, Curumilla will find them," the chief replied, laconically.
After saying these words, he arose, saddled his horse, and left the camp; Trangoil-Lanec soon lost sight of him. He then returned and took his place by the wounded man. The day passed away thus. The Spaniards had all left the plain; the Indians, for the most part, had followed their example; there only remained a few tardy Araucanos; but these, also, were preparing to depart. Towards evening, Louis found himself much better; he was able, in a few words, to relate to the Indian what had passed; but he told him nothing new, he had divined it all.
"Oh!" said the young man, as he ended, "Rosario! poor Rosario is lost!"
"My brother must not be depressed with grief," Trangoil-Lanec replied softly; "Curumilla is upon the track of the ravishers; the young pale maiden will be saved!"
"Do you seriously tell me that, chief? Is Curumilla really in pursuit of them?" the young man asked, fixing his anxious eyes upon the Indian; "can I indeed hope that?"
"Trangoil-Lanec is an Ulmen," the Araucano replied proudly: "no lie has ever soiled his lips, his tongue is not forked; I repeat that Curumilla is in pursuit of the ravishers. Let my brother hope; he will see again the little bird which sings such sweet songs in his heart."
A sudden flush crossed the young man's face at these words; a sad smile curled his pale lips; he gently pressed the hand of the chief, and closing his eyes, he sank gently back in the hammock. All at once the furious galloping of a horse was heard from without.
"Good!" Trangoil-Lanec murmured, looking at the wounded man, whose regular breathing proclaimed that he was sleeping peacefully: "what will Don Valentine say to all this?"
And he strode out hastily to meet the Parisian, whose face was the picture of anxiety.
"Chief!" he cried, in a tremulous voice, "can what the peons say be true?"
"Yes!" the chief replied coolly.
The young man sank down, as if thunder-struck. The Indian seated him gently upon a bale, and placing himself beside him, pressed his hand, saying in a soothing tone:
"My brother has much courage."
"Alas!" the young man exclaimed, in an agonized voice, "Louis, my poor Louis, dead, assassinated! Oh!" he added, with a terrible gesture, "I will avenge him! I will solely live to accomplish that sacred duty!"
The chief looked at him for an instant attentively.
"What does my brother mean?" he asked; "his friend is not dead."
"Oh! why do you seek to deceive me, chief?"
"I speak the truth; Don Louis is not dead," the Ulmen replied, in such an imposing voice that it carried conviction to the wounded heart of the young man.
"Oh!" he cried, impetuously, and springing up, "he lives!—is that possible?"
"He has received two wounds."
"Two wounds!"
"Yes, but my brother can be comforted, they are not dangerous; in a week, at latest, they will be cured."
Valentine remained for an instant stupefied by this good news, after the catastrophe which the peons and arrieros had announced to him.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, throwing himself into the arms of the chief, whom he pressed with a kind of frenzy to his breast, "it is true, is it not?—his life is not in danger?"
"No, no, my brother can reassure himself; loss of blood alone reduced him to the state of torpor into which he fell. I will answer for his recovery."
"Thanks! thanks, chief! I can see him, may I not?"
"He is asleep."
"Oh! I will not wake him, be assured of that; I only wish to see him."
"See him, then," Trangoil-Lanec replied, smiling.
Valentine went in. He looked at his friend, peacefully sleeping; he leant softly over him, and impressing a kiss upon his brow, whispered—
"Sleep, dear brother, I will watch."
The lips of the wounded man moved; he murmured—
"Valentine, save her!"
The Parisian knitted his brow, and drew himself up again.
"Come here, chief," he said to Trangoil-Lanec, "and tell me the details of what has passed, that I may know how to avenge my brother, and save her he loves."
The two men quitted the tent.
Antinahuel had not remained long inactive. Scarce had General Bustamente's escort disappeared in the cloud of dust, ere he remounted his horse, and, followed by all the Araucano chiefs, crossed the river. When he arrived on the other bank, he planted his lance in the ground, and turned towards the herald who was beside him, ready to execute his orders.
"Let the three toquis, the Ulmens, and the Apo-Ulmens meet here in an hour," he said; "the fire of council shall be lighted on this spot for a grand council. Begone!"
The herald bowed down to his horse's neck and set off at full speed. Antinahuel cast a glance around him. All the chiefs had regained their huts; one warrior alone remained. On perceiving him a smile stole over the lips of the toqui. This warrior was a man of lofty stature, proud carriage, and haughty countenance, whose piercing look conveyed a fierce and cruel expression. He appeared to be in the prime of life, that is to say, about forty years of age; he wore a poncho of exceedingly fine lama wool, striped with striking colours, while the long silver-headed cane which he held in his hand proclaimed him an Apo-Ulmen. He replied to the toqui's smile by a look of intelligence, and, bending to his ear, said, with an accent of gratified hatred—
"When the cougars tear each other to pieces, they prepare a rich quarry for the eagles of the Andes."
"The Puelches are eagles," Antinahuel replied; "they are masters of the other side of the mountains; they leave to the Huiliche women the care of weaving their ponchos."
At this sarcasm, launched against the Huiliches, a fraction of the Araucano people, who devote themselves principally to agriculture and the breeding of cattle, the Apo-Ulmen frowned.
"My father is severe with his sons," he said, in a husky voice.
"The Black-Stag is a formidable chief in his nation," Antinahuel remarked, in a conciliatory tone; "he is the first of the Apo-Ulmens of the province of the maritime country. His heart is Puelche; my soul rejoices when he is at my side. Why is it that the Ulmens are not of the same temper as he?"
"My brother has explained the reason. Obliged to live in continual trade relations with the miserable Spaniards, the tribes of the flat country have laid down the lance to take up the pickaxe: they have become cultivators; but let not my father be deceived,—the old spirit of their race still dwells within them, and on the day when they are called on to fight for their independence, all will rise at once to punish those who would attempt to enslave them."
"Can that be true?" Antinahuel cried, stopping his horse short, and looking in the speaker's face; "may they be depended upon?"
"What is the use of speaking of the subject at this moment?" said the Apo-Ulmen, with a bantering smile; "has not my father just come from renewing the treaties with the palefaces?"
"That is true," said the toqui, darting a keen look at the Indian warrior: "peace is secured for a long time."
"My father is a wise chief, that which he does is well done," the other replied, casting down his eyes.
Antinahuel was preparing to reply, when an Indian arrived at full speed, and, with a prodigy of skill which these matchless horsemen alone can execute, he stopped suddenly before the two chiefs, and stood as motionless as a statue of bronze. The panting sides of his horse, which ejected clouds from his nostrils, and was spotted with white foam, showed that he had ridden far and fast. Antinahuel looked at him for an instant.
"My son Theg-teg—the thunderer—has made a rapid journey."
"I have executed the orders of my father."
At these words, out of politeness, the Apo-Ulmen pressed the sides of his horse to retire, but Antinahuel laid his hand upon his arm.
"Black-Stag may remain," he said; "is he not my friend?"
"I will remain if my father wishes it," the chief answered, quietly.
"Let him remain, then; his brother has no secrets from him;" and turning to the still motionless warrior, he added, "my brother can speak."
"The Chiaplos are fighting," the latter replied; "they have dug up the hatchet and turned it against their own breasts."
"Oh!" the toqui exclaimed with feigned astonishment; "my brother must be mistaken, the palefaces are not cougars, to devour each other."
And he turned towards Black-Stag, with a smile of undefinable expression.
"Theg-teg is not mistaken," the Indian warrior replied, gravely; "his eyes have seen clearly: the stone toldería, which the palefaces call Valdivia, is at this moment a more ardent furnace than the volcano of Autaco, which serves as a retreat for Guécubu, the genius of evil."
"Good!" the toqui remarked, coldly, "my son has seen well; he is a warrior brave in battle, but he is likewise prudent; did he stand apart to rejoice, without seeking to learn which side prevailed?"
"Theg-teg is prudent, but when he looks he means to see; he knows all, my father may question him."
"Good! the great warrior of the palefaces set out from here to fly to the help of his soldiers; the advantage is with him."
The Indian smiled, but made no reply.
"Let my brother speak!" Antinahuel resumed; "the toqui of his nation interrogates him."
"He whom my brother names as the great warrior of the palefaces, is the prisoner of his enemies; his soldiers are dispersed like grains of wheat scattered over the field."
"Wah!" Antinahuel cried with feigned anger, "my brother has a lying tongue, what he says cannot be true; does the eagle become the prey of the owl? The great warrior has an arm strong as the thunder of Pillian. Nothing can resist it."
"That arm, however powerful, has not been able to save him; the eagle is captive: the courageous puma was surprised by cunning foxes; he has fallen, treacherously overcome, into the snare they had laid before his feet."
"But his soldiers? the great toqui of the whites had a numerous army."
"I have told my father; the chief being made captive, the soldiers, bewildered and struck with fear by Guécubu, fell beneath the blows of their angry enemies."
"The chiefs who were conquerors, no doubt, pursued them."
"What for? The palefaces are women without courage: as soon as their enemies weep and pray for pardon they forgive them."
At this news the toqui could not repress a movement of impatience, but he soon recovered himself.
"Brothers ought not to be inexorable," he said, "when they lift the hatchet against each other: they may wound a friend without wishing it. The pale warriors have done well."
The Indian bowed if as assenting.
"What are the palefaces doing now?" the chief continued.
"They are assembled round the council fire."
"Good! They are wise men. I am satisfied with my son," Antinahuel added, with a gracious smile; "he is a warrior, as skilful as brave; he may retire, and take the repose necessary after so long a journey." "Theg-teg is not fatigued; his life is my father's," the warrior said with a bow; "he may dispose of it at his pleasure."
"Antinahuel will remember his son," the toqui said with a sign of dismissal.
The Indian bowed respectfully to his chief, and pressing his knees whilst shortening the bridle, he made his horse perform a curvet, brought it to the ground with an extraordinary bound, and went off caracoling. The toqui looked after him in apparent abstraction; then addressing the Apo-Ulmen—
"What does my brother think of that which this man has said?" he asked.
"My father is the wisest of the toquis of his nation, the chief the most venerated by the Araucanian tribes; Pillian will breathe words into his mind which will mount to his lips, and which we shall listen to with respect," Black-Stag replied, evasively, fearing to compromise himself by too frank a reply.
"My brother is right," the toqui said, with a haughty glance; "I have my nymph!"
The Apo-Ulmen bowed with an air of conviction. We beg our readers to observe, with regard to this expression, which for the first time has fallen from our pen, that in the Araucanian mythology, besides an infinite number of gods and goddesses, there are what are called spiritual nymphs, who perform towards man the office of familiar genii. There is not a renowned chief among the Araucanos who does not glorify himself with the idea of having one of these in his service. Hence, what Antinahuel said, instead of disturbing Black-Stag, gave him, on the contrary, a greater veneration for his chief; for he also flattered himself with having a familiar spirit at his command, although he did not dare to proclaim it aloud. At this moment the Araucanian drums and trumpets sounded loudly—thechasquiswere calling the chiefs to council.
"What will my father do?" asked the Apo-Ulmen.
"Man is weak," Antinahuel replied; "but Pillian loves his sons, the Moluchos, he will inspire the words I shall pronounce; my only desire is the happiness of the Araucano nation."
"My father has convoked the great Auca-coyog of the nation; did he then suspect the news he has just received?"
"Antinahuel knows everything," he answered, with a smile.
"Good! I know what my father thinks."
"Perhaps."
"Let my father remember the words I have spoken."
"My ears are open, my son may repeat them,"
"When cougars tear each other to pieces, they prepare a rich quarry for the eagles of the Andes."
"Good!" said Antinahuel, with a laugh; "my son is a great chief, let him follow me to the Auca-coyog, the warriors are waiting for us."
The two warriors exchanged a look of undefinable meaning; these two men, so cunning and dissimulating, had compromised themselves to each other without avowing anything. They directed their course at a gallop towards the spot where the principal chiefs awaited them, drawn up in a circle around a fierce fire, the smoke of which ascended in graceful eddies towards heaven.
The Araucanos, whom certain travellers, either ill-informed or of bad faith, persist in representing as savage men plunged in the most frightful barbarism, are, on the contrary, a relatively civilized people. Their government, the origin of which is lost in the night of time, and which, at the period of the Spanish conquest, was as well organized and carried out as easily as at the present day, is, as we have said in a preceding chapter, an aristocratic republic, with essentially feudal tendencies. This government, which affects all the appearances of the feudal system, has all its good qualities and all its defects. Hence, except in time of war, the toquis possess but the shadow of sovereignty, and the power resides in the entire body of the chiefs, who, in questions of importance, decide in a general diet, called theAuca-coyog, the great council, or council of free men, for such is the name they claim for themselves, and very justly, for no power has yet been able to subdue them. These councils are generally held in the presence of all, in a vast prairie.
Antinahuel had eagerly seized the pretext of the renewal of the treaties to try and obtain from the chiefs authority to carry into execution the projects which had been so long ripening in his brain. The Araucanian code, which contains all the laws of the nation, created an obligation for his doing so, from which even his renown and popularity were powerless to release him. But he hoped to overcome the opposition of the chiefs, or their repugnance to submit to his will, by means of his eloquence and the influence which, under many circumstances, he had exercised over the minds of the Ulmens, even those most determined to resist him.
The Araucanos cultivate with success the art of speaking, which among them leads to public honours. They make it a point to speak their own language well, and to preserve its purity by guarding particularly against the introduction of foreign words. They carry this so far, that when a white establishes himself amongst them, they oblige him to abandon his own name and take one of their country. The style of their speeches is figurative and allegorical. They call the style of parliamentary haranguescoyagtucan;and it must be observed that these speeches contain all the essential parts of true rhetoric, and are almost all divided into three heads.
The few words we have said will suffice to show that the Araucanos are not so savage as we have been led to suppose. In short, a small people, who, without allies, isolated at the extremity of the continent, have since the landing of the Spaniards on their coasts, that is to say, during three hundred years, constantly and alone resisted European armies composed of experienced soldiers and greedy adventurers, whom no difficulty was likely to stop, and who have preserved their independence and their nationality intact, are, in our opinion, respectable in every point of view, and ought not to be stigmatized as barbarians with impunity—the sad, despicable vengeance of those proud and impotent Spaniards, who have never been able to conquer them, and whose degenerate sons at this very day pay them a tribute, under the lying excuse of an annual offering.
We who, thrown by the chance of our adventurous travels among these indomitable tribes, have lived many days with them, have had an opportunity of judging soundly of these ill-understood people. We have been able to appreciate all that is really simple, great, and generous in their character. Terminating here this somewhat long digression, a tribute of gratitude paid to ancient and dearly-beloved friends, we will resume our narrative.
Antinahuel and Black-Stag arrived at the place where the chiefs were assembled. They dismounted and joined the groups of Ulmens. The chiefs, who were peacefully chatting together, at their arrival became silent, and, for a few minutes, not a word was heard in the assembly. At length Cathicara, the toqui of the Piré-Mapus, made a few steps towards the centre of the circle, and took the initiative.
Cathicara was an old man of seventy, of majestic bearing, and imposing countenance. A renowned warrior in his youth, now that many winters had wrinkled his brow and silvered his long hair, he enjoyed, by just title, a great reputation for wisdom in his nation. Descended from an old race of Ulmens, continually opposed to the whites, he was an inveterate enemy of the Chilians, against whom he had long waged war. He was acquainted with the secret views of Antinahuel, of whom he was the most devoted friend and partisan.
"Toquis, Apo-Ulmens and Ulmens of the valiant nation of the Aucas, whose immense hunting grounds cover the surface of the earth," he said, "my heart is sad; a cloud covers my mind, and my eyes, filled with tears, are constantly cast towards the ground; whence comes it that grief devours me? Why does the joyous song of the goldfinch no longer sound cheerfully in my ears? why do the rays of the sun seem less warm to me? why, in short, does nature appear less beautiful to me? Will you tell me, my brothers? You are silent; shame covers your brows; your humbled eyes are cast down—have you nothing to reply? It is because you are a degenerate people! your warriors are women, who instead of the lance take up the spindle; because you bow basely beneath the yoke of these Chiaplos, these Huincas, who laugh at you, for they know that you have no longer blood red enough to contend with them! When, Aucas warriors, did impure owls and screech owls begin to make their nests in the eyrie of eagles? Of what use is this stone hatchet, the symbol of strength; this hatchet, which you have given me to defend you, if it is to remain inactive in my hands, and if I must descend into the tomb, towards which I am already hastening, without having been able to do anything for your enfranchisement?—Take it back again, warriors, if it is to be nothing but a vain, honorary ornament; for myself, my life has been too long—let me retire to my toldo, where, to my last days, it will be at least permitted me to weep over our independence, which is compromised by your weakness, and our glory eclipsed for ever by your cowardice!"
After uttering these words, the old man made a few paces backwards, staggering as if overcome by grief. Antinahuel sprang towards him, and appeared to lavish consolations upon him in a low voice. The speech had strongly moved the assembly, for the toqui was beloved and venerated by all. The Ulmens remained apparently silent and stoical; but their feelings of hatred had been powerfully stirred, and passion began to gleam from their eyes in ominous flashes. Black-Stag stepped forward.
"Father," he said, in a low, insinuating tone, and with a quiet air, "your words are rough; they have plunged our hearts in sadness; why have you been so severe with your children? Pillian alone is acquainted with the intentions of men. What do you reproach us with? with having done today what our fathers have always done before us, while they did not believe themselves in a position to contend victoriously against their enemies! No, owls and impure birds do not make their nests in the eyries of eagles. No, the Aucas are not women! They are valiant and invincible warriors, as their fathers were before them. Listen! listen to what the spirit reveals to me: the council with the Spaniards of today is null and void, because it has not taken place as the Admapu requires. The toqui has not presented to the chief of the palefaces the branch of the Cinnamon tree, the symbol of peace; the canes of the Apo-Ulmens have not been bound in a sheaf with the sword of the Huinca chief; the oath and the speeches have been pronounced upon the cross of the palefaces, and not upon the sheaf, as the law requires. I repeat, then, the Huinca-coyog is a nullity, nothing but a vain, laughable ceremony, to which we ought to attach no importance. Have I spoken well, powerful men?"
"Yes! yes!" the chiefs cried, brandishing their arms, "the Huinca-coyog is null!"
Antinahuel then took a few steps forward within the circle, with his head advanced, his eyes fixed on vacancy, and his arms extended, as if he heard and saw things which he alone could see and hear.
"Silence!" Black-Stag cried, pointing to him with his finger; "the great toqui is holding conference with his nymph!"
The chiefs experienced a sensation of terror while looking at the toqui. A solemn silence prevailed in the assembly. On his part, Antinahuel did not stir.
Black-Stag approached him softly, and, stooping towards his ear, asked,—
"What does my father see?"
"I see the warriors of the palefaces; they have dug up the war hatchet, and are fighting with one another."
"What more does my father see?" Black-Stag resumed.
"I see streams of blood, which redden the soil; the odour of that blood rejoices my heart, for it is the blood of palefaces shed by their brothers!"
"Does my father see anything more?"
"I see the great chief of the whites! he fights valiantly at the head of his soldiers! he is surrounded, he fights still! he is nearly falling—he falls—he is down—he is conquered! His enemies seize him!"
The Ulmens present at this scene looked on in stupefied amazement; it was incomprehensible to them. A smile of disdain curled the lips of Black-Stag, as he continued,—
"Does my father hear anything?"
"I hear the cries of the dying demanding vengeance upon their brothers!"
"Does my father hear anything else?"
"Yes; I hear the cries of Aucas warriors, long since dead, and they freeze me with terror!"
"What do they say?" the chiefs exclaimed unanimously, a prey to intense anxiety. "What do the Aucas warriors say?"
"They say, 'Brothers, the hour is come! To arms! To arms!'"
"To arms!" the chiefs shouted, as with one voice. "To arms! Death to the palefaces!"
The impulse was given, enthusiasm had seized all hearts; from this moment Antinahuel was able to raise the passions of the crowd to delirium at his pleasure. A smile of supreme satisfaction lighted his haughty countenance as he recovered apparently from his vision.
"Chiefs of the Aucas," he said, "what do you order me to do?"
"Antinahuel," Cathicara replied, throwing his stone hatchet into the fire, in which he was directly imitated by the other toquis; "there is now but one supreme hatchet in the nation, it is in your hands; let it be red up to the hilt in the blood of the vile Huincas; lead our Uthal-Mapus to battle—you have the supreme command! We give you the power of life and death over our persons. From this hour, you alone in the nation have the right to command us; whatever be your orders, we will accomplish them."
Antinahuel raised his lofty head, his brow radiant with pride: brandishing in his nervous hand his powerful war hatchet, the symbol of the dictatorial and boundless power which had just been conferred upon him, he said haughtily,—
"Aucas, I accept the honour you do me; I will prove worthy of the confidence you place in me. This hatchet shall never be buried till my body has served for food to the vultures of the Andes, or till the cowardly palefaces, against whom we are about to combat, shall have come upon their knees to implore pardon!"
The chiefs replied to these words by cries of joy and ferocious howlings. The Auca-coyog was terminated. Tables were placed, and a banquet gathered together all the warriors present at the council. At the moment when Antinahuel was seating himself in the high place reserved for him, an Indian, covered with perspiration and dust, approached him, and whispered a few words in his ear. The chief started; a nervous paroxysm shook his whole frame, and he arose a prey to the most lively agitation.
"Oh!" he cried, passionately, "it is to me alone that woman should belong!" and, addressing the Indian who had spoken to him, he added, "Bid my mosotones mount, and be prepared to follow me instantly."
Antinahuel beckoned Black-Stag to come to him, and the Apo-Ulmen did not delay. Notwithstanding the number and copiousness of the libations in which he had indulged, the face of the Araucano chief was as impassive, and his step as steady, as if he had only drunk water. When he arrived in front of the toqui, he bowed respectfully, and waited in silence till he was spoken to. The toqui, with his eyes fixed on the ground, and buried in serious reflections, was some time before he was aware of his presence. At length he raised his eyes; his countenance was dark, his eyes seemed to dart lightning, a nervous tremour agitated all his limbs.
"Is my father suffering?" Black-Stag asked, mildly and affectionately.
"I am," the chief replied.
"Guécubu has breathed upon the heart of my father; but let him take courage, Pillian will support him."
"No," Antinahuel replied; "the breath which dries my breast is a breath of fear."
"Of fear?"
"Yes; the Huincas are powerful. I dread the strength of their arms for my young men!"
Black-Stag surveyed him with astonishment.
"What signifies the power of the palefaces," he said, "when my father is at the head of the four Uthal-Mapus?"
"This war will be terrible; and I would conquer."
"My father will conquer. Do not all the warriors listen to his voice?"
"No," said Antinahuel, sorrowfully; "the Ulmens of the Puelches were not present at the council."
"That is true," Black-Stag murmured.
"The Puelches are the first among Aucas warriors."
"That is true, too," said Black-Stag.
"I suffer!" Antinahuel repeated.
Black-Stag laid his hand upon his shoulder.
"My father," he said, in an insinuating tone, "is a great chief; nothing is impossible to him!"
"What does my son mean?"
"War is declared. Whilst we attempt incursions into the Chilian territory, to keep our enemies in a state of uncertainty as to our plans, let my father mount with his mosotones upon his coursers more fleet than the wind, and fly upon the wings of the tempest to the Puelches. His words will convince them; the warriors will abandon everything to follow him and fight under his orders. With their assistance we shall conquer the Huincas, and the heart of my father will swell with joy and pride!"
"My son is wise! I will follow his counsels," the toqui answered, with a smile of mysterious expression; "but he has said war is resolved upon; the interests of my nation must not suffer from the short absence I am forced to make."
"My father will provide for that."
"I have provided for it," Antinahuel said, with a courteous smile; "let my son listen to me."
"My ears are open to receive the words of my father."
"At sunrise, when the fumes of the water fire are dissipated, the chiefs will ask for Antinahuel." Black-Stag nodded assent.
"I will place in the hands of my son," the chief continued, "the stone hatchet, the sign of my dignity. Black-Stag is a part of my soul, his heart is devoted to me; I name him my vice-toqui—he will take my place."
The Apo-Ulmen bowed respectfully before Antinahuel, and kissed his hand.
"Whatever my father orders shall be instantly executed," he said.
"The chiefs are of a proud character; their courage is fiery: my son must not give them time to cool, he must make them so compromise themselves, that they cannot afterwards retract."
"What are the names of these chiefs, that I may keep them in my memory?"
"They are the most powerful Ulmens of the nation. Let my son remember they are eight in number; each of them must make an incursion on the frontier, in order to prove to the Chiaplos that hostilities have commenced. The four principal among them will immediately repair to Valdivia, to proclaim the declaration of war to the palefaces."
"Good!"
"These are the names of the Ulmens: Tangol, Qud-pal, Auchanguer, Colfunguin, Trumau, Cuyumil, and Pailapen. Does my son hear these names distinctly?"
"I have heard them."
"Has my son understood the sense of my words? Have they entered into his brain?"
"The words of my father are here," said Black-Stag, pointing to his forehead; "he may banish all uneasiness, and fly towards her who has taken possession of his heart."
"Good!" Antinahuel replied; "my son loves me, he will remember; after two suns he will find me at the toldería of the Black Serpents."
"The Black-Stag will be there, accompanied by his most valiant warriors; may Pillian guide the steps of my father, and may the god of war grant him success."
"Farewell, brother!" Antinahuel murmured, taking leave of his lieutenant.
Black-Stag bowed to the toqui and retired. As soon as he was alone, Antinahuel made a sign to the Indian whose news had caused his departure. During the conference of the two chiefs this man had stood motionless, at a sufficient distance to prevent his hearing what they said, but near enough to execute immediately the orders that might be given him. He drew near in obedience to the sign.
"Is my son fatigued?" the toqui asked.
"No; my horse alone wants rest."
"Well, my son shall have another horse; he will guide us."
Antinahuel, followed by the scout, advanced, without more words, towards a group of horsemen, who, leaning on their long lances, cast their black shadows gloomily into the night. These horsemen, about thirty in number, were the mosotones of the toqui. Antinahuel, at a bound, sprang upon a magnificent horse, held by the bridle by two Indians.