The caravan thus attained the hill on which Don Diogo proposed to encamp. The Indian—with that infallible glance which a long experience gives, and which is possessed only by men inured by years of life in the desert, so varied and so full of unforeseen dangers—had admirably chosen the only spot where it was possible to establish a camp which could resist a sudden attack of the enemy.
This hill formed an advance post of one of the largest rivers of the plain. Its steep sides were without verdure, its summit alone was covered with a thick wood. On the side next to the river the hill, which was almost perpendicular, was insurmountable, and only accessible by the desert for a space of ten yards at the most.
The marquis congratulated Don Diogo on the sagacity with which he had chosen this position—
"However," added he, "I cannot help asking myself whether it is necessary for a single night to establish ourselves on the summit of such a fortress."
"If we had but to remain there but a single night," answered the Indian, "I should not have given myself the trouble of choosing this place, but the information we have to obtain will take us some time, and we may remain here a few days."
"Remain a few days here!" cried the marquis.
"I cannot say positively. Perhaps we may set out again tomorrow. That will depend upon circumstances. Although our position may not be good, still it depends a little upon us not to make it worse."
"You are always right, my friend," answered the young man; "let us camp then since you wish it."
The captain then left the marquis, and proceeded to give all necessary orders.
The Brazilians first occupied themselves in securing the most important things—that is to say, the food and the munitions of war; then, this care taken, they installed the camp on the edge of the platform of the hill. They then formed a rampart of trunks of trees, interlaced one in the other. Behind this first rampart the waggons and carts were fastened in the form of a St. Andrew's cross.
According to the express orders of the captain, the trees which were necessary for the fortifications had to be felled; the others remaining standing were not only to give shade to the Brazilians, but also to serve for defence in case of assault, and moreover, to prevent the Indians reckoning them, and thus knowing the number of enemies whom they had to attack.
When night was come, and obscurity had completely enveloped the landscape; Don Diogo entered the tent where the marquis was walking up and down, his head drooping, and his arms crossed on his chest.
"Ah, 'tis you, Captain?" said the young man, stopping. "What news?"
"Nothing, your Excellency," answered the Indian. "All is calm; the night, I think, will be tranquil."
"However, you have, if I am not deceived, something to say to me."
"Just so, your Excellency; I come to announce that I am about to quit the camp."
"You quit the camp!"
"Is it not necessary that I go out for information?"
"True; how long do you reckon to be on this excursion?"
"Who can say, your Excellency? Perhaps one day, perhaps two; perhaps only a few hours. All will depend on circumstances. It is possible that I shall never return."
The marquis remained an instant—his eyes fixed with a strange expression on the captain.
"Don Diogo," said he, at last, placing his hand in a friendly way on his shoulder, "before leaving me, permit me to ask you a question."
"Do so, my lord."
"What is the reason which induces you to manifest so great a devotion—so complete a self-denial?"
"What good would it do to tell you, my lord; you would not understand me."
"Several times have I asked myself this question without being able to reply. We have only known each other two months; before the treason of Malco, I had scarcely exchanged a few ordinary words with you."
"Mon Dieu, my lord," carelessly answered the Indian; "I in nowise interest myself in you, believe me."
"But, then," cried the marquis, with the utmost surprise, "why risk your life for me?"
"I have told you, my lord, that you would not understand me."
"Never mind, my friend; answer my question, I beg you."
"You wish it, your Excellency?"
"I demand it, as far as I am permitted to have my way on such a matter."
"Be it so; listen to me then, my lord; only I doubt, I repeat, whether you will understand me."
"Speak, speak."
"Do not be angry, then, my lord, I beg you, if what you are about to hear should appear a little hard. To a question frankly put I must make a candid answer. You personally do not interest me at all. You yourself have said that I scarcely know you. Only it happens that you are in some respects under my keeping; that when I was placed under your orders, I swore to defend you in all circumstances during the time we should travel together. When that miserable Malco betrayed you, I understood the responsibility that the treason caused to devolve upon me."
"But," interrupted the marquis, "that is no reason why you should sacrifice your life."
"It is not to you, my lord, it is to myself that I make this sacrifice—to my honour, which would be wounded if I did not, if necessary, fall by your side, in trying, up to the last moment, to protect you, and to make a shield for you by my body. But," added he, with a sad smile, "of what use is it to dwell on this subject my lord? Profit by my devotion, without disquieting yourself about other matters. Moreover, it is not so great a thing as you think."
"How is that?"
"Eh! Mon Dieu, my lord, for a very simple reason; we soldados da conquista, who incessantly make war against the Indian bravos, continually stake our lives, and always finish by being killed in some ambuscade. You see that the sacrifice I make for you is very little, and does not merit in any way that I should glory in it."
Don Roque felt emotion in spite of himself, at the artless loyalty of this half-civilised man.
"You are worth more than I am," he said, holding out his hand.
"Why, no, my lord; I am less civilised, that is all; and," he continued, "now that I have answered your question, we will, if you please, return to our business."
"I do not ask anything better, Captain; you told me, I think, that you intended to quit the camp?"
"We have not an instant to lose to try and gain information; we have to do, do not forget, with Indian bravos—the cleverest and bravest of the desert. They are tough adversaries."
"I begin to believe it."
"While I am absent, remain in the camp, keep a good watch, and make yourself personally certain that the sentinels do not sleep at their post."
"Depend upon me for that."
"I forgot one very important thing, my lord; if you are attacked by the Indians during my absence, and hard put to it, attach a red faja to the highest branch of the watch tree; this faja I shall see in whatever place I may be."
"That shall be done; have you any other recommendations?"
"None, your Excellency; it only remains for me now to take leave. Remember not to go out."
"I shall not stir a step; that's agreed on. You will find me again, I hope, in as good a situation as that in which you leave me."
"I hope so, my lord. Au revoir!"
Diogo bowed a second time, and left the tent.
The captain set out from the camp on foot.
The soldados da conquista rarely use horses; they only employ them when they have a long journey on the plain, for the Brazilian forests are so thick and encumbered with ivy and creeping plants, that it is literally impossible to traverse them, otherwise than hatchet in hand, which renders a horse not only useless, but in some respects an obstruction, to his master, by the embarrassment which he continually causes.
Thus the soldados da conquista are generally excellent pioneers. These men have legs of iron, nothing stops or retards them; they march with a speed and certainty which would shame our chasseurs à pied, who, nevertheless, justly enjoy a reputation as hardy fellows on the march.
Captain Diogo enjoyed among his companions—good judges in such a matter—a reputation for uncommon sagacity. He had on many occasions given proofs of admirable skill and address, but he had never found himself in such difficult circumstances before.
The Indian bravos, of whom he was the implacable foe, and to whom he had caused irreparable losses, held him in deadly hatred, mingled with superstitious terror. Diogo had so often, and with such good fortune, escaped the snares spread under his feet—so often escaped a nearly certain death—that the Indians had come to believe that this man was protected by some unknown charm, and that he possessed supernatural power.
The captain knew well the opinion that the Indians had of him; he knew that if ever he fell into their hands, not only had he no quarter to hope for, but, moreover, that he had to expect the most frightful tortures. This certainly, however, had no influence on his mind; his boldness was not dismayed, and, far from taking precautions during the course of his various expeditions, it was with unspeakable pleasure that he braved his adversaries to the face.
The expedition that he was now making was the boldest and most difficult of all he had attempted.
His intention was nothing less than to enter a village of the Guaycurus, to be present at their meetings, and thus succeed in discovering their secrets.
After having left the camp, the captain rapidly descended the hill, proceeding, notwithstanding the thick darkness which surrounded him, with as much certainty as by daylight, and walking with such lightness, that the noise of his steps would, at some yards' distance, have been imperceptible to the most practised ear.
When he had reached the bank of the river, he looked around him an instant; then he threw himself on the ground, and commenced to crawl gently in the direction of a neighbouring wood, a part of which was washed by the water of a river.
Arrived at two or three steps from the wood, the Indian suddenly stopped, and thus remained for several minutes, without even the noise of his breathing being heard.
Then, after having, by looking around him, sounded the darkness, as it were, he huddled himself into a small space, like a wild beast ready to take a spring. Seizing his knife in the right hand, he lightly raised his head, and imitated, with rare accuracy, the hissing of the giboya, or boa constrictor.
Scarcely had this hissing sound been heard when the branches of the thicket were agitated; they were then separated with violence, and an Indian bounded in fright towards the river. At the same moment the captain darted behind him, buried his knife in the Indian's neck, and laid him dead at his feet.
This murder had been committed in less time than it has taken us to relate it. But a few seconds had flown, and the warrior was lying lifeless before his implacable enemy.
Don Diogo coolly wiped his knife with a tuft of grass, replaced it in his girdle, and leaning over his victim, he regarded him attentively.
"Come," he murmured, "fortune has favoured me; this is one of the chiefs; his costume will suit me."
After this "aside," which explained the secret motive for the murder he had just committed in so rude a manner, the captain took upon his shoulders the body of the Guaycurus, and concealed himself with it in the thicket, from which he had so skilfully drawn his enemy.
The reader must not conclude, from what we have just related, that the captain was a ferocious and sanguinary man. Don Diogo enjoyed amongst his companions a merited reputation for kindness and humanity, but the circumstances in which he was placed at that moment were exceptional. It was evident that if the Guaycurus spy, whom he had surprised and so pitilessly killed, had perceived him first, he would have stabbed him without hesitation. For that matter, the captain had taken care to say as much himself to the marquis. The war which was commencing was one of treachery and ambush.
Time was precious; he therefore hastened to despoil his victim, in whose vestments he clothed himself. By a fortunate coincidence the two men were about the same size.
The Indians possess a particular talent, not only for personation, but even put themselves into the very skin of those whose features they wish to borrow.
With very trifling exceptions, the painting of the Guaycurus chiefs is all the same, and as their bearing differs very little, when an Indian of pure race assumes their costume, he easily attains a complete disguise.
In a few instants the dead man was despoiled; only the captain took care to place under the enemy's poncho his own pistols and knife.
After having carefully concealed his own vestments in a hole which he dug for that purpose, the captain assured himself that profound silence reigned around him; then, reassured or nearly so, he took the corpse again upon his shoulders, attached a large stone to its neck, to prevent it from floating, and, carefully separating the branches of the thicket (the roots of which were planted in the water), he pushed it gently into the river, without making the least noise.
This delicate operation terminated, the captain glided again into the thicket, with a smile of satisfaction.
Two hours thus passed away, during which the mysterious silence of the desert was not disturbed.
Diogo began to weary of the length of his task; he was seeking some means of bringing it to an end, and of joining the Guaycurus, who could not, in all probability, be far removed, when a slight trembling of the dry leaves awakened his attention.
He soon perceived the step of a man who was approaching him; this man, although walking cautiously, did not appear to think the situation dangerous enough to demand great precautions—hence this trembling which, slight as it was, had not escaped the delicate and experienced ear of the captain.
But what was this man, and what did he want?
These questions that Diogo addressed to himself, and which were impossible for him to answer, only resulted in alarming him seriously for his personal safety.
To guard against anything which might happen, the captain held himself on his guard; the critical moment had arrived to contend with artifice against those whom he wished to deceive. He prepared himself to sustain bravely the shock, whatever it might be, with which he was threatened.
Arrived at about four paces from the thicket, in the midst of which the captain had placed himself—motionless and silent as a block of granite—the unknown rover stopped.
For some seconds there was perfect silence, during which one could almost have heard the brave soldier's heart beating.
He could not, by reason of the darkness, see his enemy, but he guessed where he was, and became very uneasy, considering his silence and his stillness as a bad omen.
On a sudden the cry of an owl was heard in the air twice repeated. Perfectly modulated as this imitation was, the ear of an Indian could not be deceived.
The captain understood that this cry was a signal from his unknown visitor; but to whom was it addressed? Was it to him, or was it to some warriors ensconced in the neighbouring thickets?
Perhaps the precautions of Diogo had not been well taken; the knot which tied the cord round the neck of the warrior whom he had killed had perhaps come undone, the body had floated, and the Guaycurus, perceiving the corpse, had discovered the treason, and were coming at this moment to avenge their brother by killing his assassin.
These various thoughts crossed the mind of the soldier like a flash of lightning; however, it was necessary to act, any hesitation would have ruined him. So, recommending himself to fate, the captain made a desperate effort, and, in his turn, imitated twice the cry of the owl.
He then waited with anxiety the result of this desperate attempt, not daring to believe in its success.
This uncertainty was short; almost at the same instant the man, whoever he might be, who was concealed near the thicket, raised his voice. He spoke in the Guaycurus language, which Diogo not only understood, but spoke with race perfection.
"My brother, has the Grand Sarigue seen the whites?"
"No."
"Good! Come."
After having exchanged these few words, Don Diogo obeyed the injunction that was thus given him, and boldly came out of the thicket, although, despite the success of his stratagem, he did not feel himself completely reassured.
The Indian, whom he recognised at the first glance to be Tarou Niom himself, was so convinced he was dealing with one of his own warriors, that he did not even give himself the trouble to examine him. Moreover, the chief appeared to be preoccupied.
"These dogs, then, have not ventured to scour the plain during the darkness?" asked he.
"No," answered Diogo, "they remain together like poltroon dogs, they do not dare to stir."
"I thought them more brave and skilful. They have with them a man who knows the desert well—a traitor, as to whom I reserve myself to put hot coals into his eyes, and cut out his lying tongue."
The captain inwardly trembled at these threats, which were addressed to him.
"This dog shall die," said he.
"He and those whom he conducts," answered the chief. "I have need of my brother."
"I am at the orders of Tarou Niom."
"Epoï, I speak. For the success of my projects we must have the assistance of the Payagoas, without their war canoes I can attempt nothing. Emavidi Chaime has promised to send me fifty, each manned by ten warriors, as soon as I express my wish for them. My brother, the Grand Sarigue, will go and ask for these canoes?"
"I will go."
"I have myself brought here my brother's horse, in order that he may lose no time. Here is mykeaio,[1]my brother will show it to Emavidi Chaime, the chief of the Payagoas, on the part of his friend Tarou Niom, and will say to him—"
"'Tarou Niom demands the accomplishment of the promise made.'"
"I will say it," said Diogo.
"Good, my brother is a great warrior; I love him, let him follow me."
The two men then began to march rapidly without speaking, one behind the other.
Don Diogo inwardly congratulated himself on the fate which had been pleased to arrange matters so well, for he feared the piercing eye of the Guaycurus chief, and it was with a secret apprehension that he thought of the moment when they should both arrive at the camp, where the light of the watch fires would reveal his disguise to the eyes of the Guaycurus—so difficult to deceive, and who, moreover, knew the man he personated too well to allow him to impose upon them.
Meanwhile the two men reached a glade where two horses were held by the bridle by a slave.
"Here is the horse of my brother, let him depart," said Tarou Niom; "I await his return with impatience. He proceeds towards the south. As for me, I return to the camp, soon to see you again."
Diogo did not know which of the two horses was his own; fearing to make a mistake, and to take one for the other, he feigned to stumble in order to give the chief time to put himself in the saddle, which the latter, whose suspicion was not awakened, did immediately.
Diogo imitated his example.
The two men buried their spurs in the flanks of their horses, and went off at full speed in different directions.
When he was at last alone, the captain could not suppress a sigh of relief.
[1]knife.
[1]knife.
The Guaycurus and their allies the Payagoas are essentially shepherds. They are also thorough agriculturalists. The former are horsemen, and spend half their lives roaming about; the latter are stationary. They in general live on the banks of rivers and lakes, and are much addicted to fish.
Their habitations are mere huts of the most primitive description.
Diogo scarcely knew which route to follow to arrive at the village of the Payagoas—not only of the position, but even of the existence of which he was ignorant.
As he had already often found himself in connection with them, and knew their usages, he had darted off quite at random in the direction the chief had indicated to him, intending to follow as nearly as possible the bank of the river, convinced that there only he would find their village, if it really existed, which he had no reason to doubt.
He galloped all night, scarcely knowing where he was going, and ardently longing for sunrise.
At last the day dawned. Diogo ascended a rather high hill, and from thence he looked around him.
At three or four leagues from the spot where he had stopped, on the very bank of the river, the captain perceived—in a rather misty light it is true, but nevertheless distinct to his piercing eye—a confused and considerable mass of cabins, over which hovered a thick cloud of smoke.
Diogo descended the hill, and resumed his course, making straight for the village. When he approached it, he could see it was more important than he at first thought, and fortified by an enclosure formed by a large and deep ditch, behind which they had raised a range of sticks, bound together with ivy.
The captain called all his boldness to his aid, and, after a moment of hesitation, bravely advanced towards the village, into which he entered at a gallop.
The warriors were still for the most part asleep, lying on hides stretched on the ground, the body covered by the clothing of the women, and the head placed on little bundles of hay, of which their females make use in riding on horseback.
In the streets that the captain traversed, he only met children or a few women going to seek a supply of wood. Others prepared the meal of manioc; some, crouched down before their cabins, were making either pottery or baskets, but the greater number were occupied in weaving the cotton stuff which they use for clothing.
Notwithstanding the early hour, great activity reigned in the village, which appeared to be very populous. The captain cast, as he proceeded, a curious glance on all that was offered to his view, inwardly astonished at the laborious manner of living of these poor Indians, whom travellers are pleased to represent as so indolent that the least work is repugnant to them, and as rather liking to pass the entire day in smoking or sleeping, than in concerning themselves with the cares which the necessities of life so imperiously demand.
However, notwithstanding the curiosity that devoured him, and the admiration that this spectacle gave rise to, prudence warned him to allow nothing to appear on his countenance.
Although he had successfully penetrated into the interior of the village, Diogo could not but be considerably embarrassed to find the cottage inhabited by the captain of the Payagoas.
Diogo vainly turned over in his mind, while continuing his gallop, the means of escaping from this embarrassment, when chance once more came to his aid. At the moment when he passed before a cabin of good appearance, forming the angle of a square, his horse, frightened by a tame peccary, which suddenly rushed howling to fasten to the horse's legs, began to rear, which in an instant brought round it twenty of those lazy people who always abound in the centres of population.
These idlers, whose numbers increased every minute, pressed more and more round the horse, which the captain had extreme difficulty in restraining, and in preventing from doing injury to some of the people, whose cries began seriously to frighten the animal.
At the same instant a man of tall stature came out from the hut of which we have spoken, and, attracted by the noise, threaded the crowd, which separated respectfully on his appearance, and soon found himself in face of the captain.
The latter, who, two days previously, when he had been on the search of the guide, had met with the chief of the Payagoas, recognised him immediately.
Saluting him in the Indian fashion, he jumped to the ground.
"Ai!" cried the chief; "A Guaycurus warrior? What has happened, then?"
"At the instant, when I was about to stop my horse before the cottage of the captain, for whom I have a message," answered Diogo without being disconcerted, "a peccary frightened him."
"Epoï! My brother is a complete Guaycurus horseman; the animal is tame," graciously said Emavidi, "and is allowed to stray. What is my brother's name?"
"The Grand Sarigue," said Diogo.
"Ai! I know the name of my brother; he is a renowned warrior; I have often heard people praise him; I am happy to see him."
The captain thought it necessary to bow.
Emavidi continued—
"My brother has made a long track to arrive here; he will accept the hospitality of a chief. The Payagoas love the Guaycurus; they are brothers."
"I accept the generous offer of the chief," answered the captain.
Emavidi Chaime clapped his hands. A slave ran towards him. The chief ordered him to take charge of Diogo's horse. He then dismissed the crowd which had stopped before his door with a gesture, and introduced the captain to his cabin, the entrance to which he closed with a hurdle covered with an ox's hide.
The cabin was spacious, well ventilated, clean, and internally arranged with uncommon intelligence.
In a distant corner of the apartment the slaves were occupied in certain labours, under the direction of the wife of the chief.
On a sign from Emavidi, she came with haste to welcome the stranger, and to offer him all the refreshment which she supposed he needed.
This woman was named White Star. She was tall and well made: her features were intelligent, without being absolutely handsome. The expression of her countenance was sweet; she appeared to be about twenty-two or twenty-three years of age at the most.
Her costume was composed of a piece of stuff streaked with various colours, which enveloped her rather tightly from the chest to the foot, fastened at the hips by a large girdle, called ayulate, of a crimson colour. This girdle is white in the case of young girls, and they only abandon it when they marry. Pinia-Pai was neither painted nor tattooed; her long black hair, arranged in the Brazilian style, fell nearly to the ground; little silver beads, threaded, forming a kind of chaplet, encircled her neck; metal plates attached to her breast half-concealed her bosom, and large semicircles of gold were suspended to her ears.
With this picturesque costume this young woman was not wanting in a certain piquant grace, and was calculated, as indeed was the fact, to appear charming to the captain.
With a celerity full of respect, White Star had in an instant garnished the table with dishes, the abundance of which made up for the frugality of the repast, for it consisted only of meat, fruits, boiled fish, and meat dried in the sun, and roasted on hot coals.
Diogo, on the invitation of the chief, proceeded to do honour to this improvised repast, of which he had begun to feel the want.
The chief, although taking no part in the repast, excited his guest to eat, and the captain, whose appetite appeared to increase as he proceeded, did not need any pressing to vigorously attack all the dishes.
Moreover, apart from the hunger Diogo felt, he knew that not to eat much, when one is invited to the table of a chief, is considered by the latter as wanting in politeness, and almost a mark of contempt.
However, a time arrived when, notwithstanding all his good will, he was obliged to stop.
Emavidi Chaime, who had followed with interest the prowess accomplished by his guest, appeared charmed. He then offered him some tobacco in a long pipe of palm leaves, rolled together, and the two men proceeded to emit large puffs of smoke in each other's faces.
When her presence was no longer necessary, White Star had discreetly withdrawn into another apartment of the cottage, making a sign to her slaves to follow her.
A considerable lapse of time now elapsed, without a single word being exchanged. The nature of the Indians is contemplative, and has much in common with that of the Orientals. Tobacco produces on them the effect of a narcotic, and if it does not completely send them to sleep, it at least plunges them for a considerable time into a kind of somnolent ecstasy.
It was Emavidi Chaime who first broke silence.
"My brother, the Grand Sarigue, is the bearer of a message from Tarou Niom to me?" said he.
"Yes," answered Diogo.
"Is this message personal, or is it addressed to the other captains of the nation, and to the grand council?"
"It is only for my brother, Emavidi Chaime."
"Epoï, does my brother think proper to communicate it to me at once, or does he prefer to wait and take some hours of repose?"
"The Guaycurus warriors are not weak women," answered Diogo; "a journey of a few hours on horseback takes nothing from their vigour."
"My brother has well spoken; what he says is true. My ears are open; the words of Tarou Niom always rejoice the heart of his friend."
"Tarou Niom is prudent," answered Diogo; "he knows that the Pai dogs now tread the sacred earth of the Guaycurus and the Payagoas. Treason has come with them."
Then, removing from his girdle, where he had placed it, the knife that the chief had sent by him, he presented it to the Payagoas.
"Here," said he, "is the keaio of Tarou Niom. Does the captain, Emavidi Chaime, recognise it?"
The chief took it in his hands, considered it for an instant with attention, and, replacing it on the table—
"I recognise it," said he; "my brother can speak."
Diogo bowed as a sign of acknowledgment, passed the knife again into his girdle, and answered—
"Here are the words of Tarou Niom; they are graven in the heart of the Grand Sarigue. Tarou Niom reminds the captain of the Payagoas of his promise; he asks him if he has really the intention to keep it?"
"Yes, I will keep the promise made to my brother, the captain of the Guaycurus. This very day the grand council will assemble, and tomorrow the war canoes will ascend the river; I myself will direct them."
"What, then, does my brother mean?" said Diogo; "I do not understand him. Does he not say that the war canoes will ascend the river?"
"I have, indeed, said so," answered the chief.
"For what reason will my brother take that direction?"
"Why, to aid, as has been agreed between us, Tarou Niom, to conquer the Pai dogs."
"Listen to the words of the chief; the Pai are surrounded by my warriors; flight is impossible for them; already discouraged and half dying with hunger, in two or three suns at the latest they will fall into my hands, if my brother remember his promise."
"Well?" interrupted the chief.
"Other enemies more serious," imperturbably continued Diogo, "threaten us at this moment."
"Is that true, then, which, this very morning, one of my scouts told me?" cried the chief.
"It is, unhappily, but too true," coolly answered Diogo. "It is especially with the design of assuring you of that news, and of taking with you the necessary dispositions—that is to say," said he, with a gracious smile, "to concert only measures of safety that it may suit you to adopt in the general interest, and to report them immediately to Tarou Niom, in order that he may efficiently support you, that he has sent me to his brother."
"So the whites are entering in all directions?"
"Yes."
"The captain, Joachim Terraira, has then really set out from Villa Bella?"
"There cannot be the least doubt of that," boldly answered Diogo.
"And Tarou Niom," pursued the chief, "thinks that I ought to dispute the passage of the Pai?"
"Six thousand warriors will join those of the Payagoas chief."
"But it is especially the passage of the river that it is important to defend."
"This opinion is also that of Tarou Niom."
"Epoï, my warriors, aided by those of my brother, Tarou Niom, will keep the ford of Camato, whilst the great war canoes will intercept the communications, and harass the Pai along the river."
"My brother has perfectly understood his wishes."
"What may be the number of the Pai who come from Bella Villa?"
"Tarou Niom has been assured that they were at least two thousand."
"Ai; that is extraordinary; I have been told that their number is not more than five hundred."
Diogo bit his lips, but immediately collecting himself—
"They are more numerous than the leaves strewed by the hurricane," said he, "only they are divided into little war detachments."
"Ha!" cried the chief, with alarm, "That is terrible."
"Moreover," added Diogo, who knew the terror Indians have for Negroes, "each war detachment is followed by a considerable number of coatas (Negroes), who have taken the terrible oath to massacre all the Payagoas wanderers, and to carry away their wives and daughters."
"Oh!" said the chief, with a feeling of ill-concealed fright; "The coatas are not men, they resemble evil genii. The warning of my brother shall not be lost. This very evening the women and children shall leave the village to withdraw into the Llano de Manso, and the warriors shall proceed to march to the ford of Camato, followed by all the war canoes."
Diogo rose—
"Does the Grand Sarigue leave, then, already?" asked the chief, rising also.
"It is necessary, chief; Tarou Niom has charged me with making the greatest haste."
"Epoï, my brother will thank the great captain of the Guaycurus."
The two men went out. On the order of Emavidi Chaime a slave brought out Diogo's horse; the latter leaped into the saddle, exchanged a few more words with the chief, and then they separated.
The captain was delighted. Up to the present time all had succeeded beyond his hope; not only did he know the plans of the enemy, but also he had learned that the Paulistas, who had suddenly appeared on the battlefield, could, at any moment, come to aid them. Moreover, he had hindered the junction of the two Indian nations, which, by preserving a free passage of the rivers, offered a chance of safety to the caravan.
Diogo left the village at a gentle trot, plunged in these sanguine reflections, and only wishing one thing—to rejoin his companions as soon as possible.
When he saw the desert plain spread out before him, he leant over the neck of his horse, refreshed and invigorated by two hours of repose, touched it with the spur, and began to dart along with the rapidity of the wind.
On a sudden, at the turn of a path, he came across a horseman who was coming towards him with a rapidity equal to his own.
Diogo could not repress an exclamation of surprise, and almost of fear. In this horseman he recognised Malco Diaz.
"Fortune turns," grumbled he between his teeth, at the same time urging forward his horse, which appeared to annihilate space.
The unforeseen encounter with the mameluco had suddenly upset don Diogo's course of ideas.
The inquisitive look which the ex-guide had cast at him as he passed, the cry that he himself had, in the suddenness of his surprise, allowed to escape—all these circumstances gave him much to think of.
The eye of hatred is piercing. The Indian did not conceal from himself that the half-caste had in the depth of his heart a bitter hatred for him, not only for the manner in which he had pursued him after his departure from the camp, but because Diogo had in some respects taken his place near the marquis.
What gave a little hope to the Indian was, that the meeting had been so fortuitous, and at the same time so rapid, that, thanks to his disguise, the completeness of which had deceived Emavidi Chaime himself, it was almost impossible to recognise him without examination.
Diogo made a mistake, and he soon had a proof of it.
His very disguise had caused his enemy, if not to recognise, at least to suspect him.
Now, the very morning of the day on which we again meet with him, two hours before sunrise, Malco Diaz had had a rather long conversation with Tarou Niom relative to the last arrangements agreed upon between them.
During the course of this conversation, as Malco Diaz insisted that the chief should attack the whites without more delay, the latter had answered that he could not commence the assault before the arrival of his allies, the Payagoas; that he did not wish by precipitation, which nothing could justify, to compromise the success of an enterprise so well managed up to that time; that for that matter the delay was insignificant, and would not extend beyond a few hours, since he had dispatched to Emavidi Chaime one of his most faithful warriors, the Grand Sarigue, in order to urge him to make haste in joining them.
Malco took leave of the Guaycurus captain, and mounting immediately on horseback, he proceeded towards the village, hoping every moment to discover the Payagoas flotilla.
He was not likely to see the canoes—the reason we already know; only, arrived at a certain spot, it seemed to him that he could distinguish something, the appearance of which he thought very suspicious, partially concealed in the reeds.
Malco Diaz was curious; he dearly liked to ascertain the cause of things, and to find out the explanation of what he could not understand.
He approached the river with the design of assuring himself as to what this doubtful object might be, in which he soon recognised a corpse.
The mameluco alighted, threw his lasso, drew out the corpse with it, and contemplated it. His astonishment was great when in this mutilated corpse, already half-devoured by the alligators, he recognised the Grand Sarigue, that very warrior that Tarou Niom had a few hours before dispatched to the Payagoas.
The half-caste left the corpse there without concerning himself about it any further; he mounted his horse, and resumed his journey so much the more rapidly as, since the messenger was dead, he had not been able to fulfil his commission.
Only, who had killed the Grand Sarigue? In what way had this murder been committed?
Following up these doubtful circumstances, he came across a horseman coming from the village of the Payagoas, whither he himself was proceeding, and from which he was scarcely a league distant, and, strange to say, this horseman appeared the very man whom he had found some moments since dead and half-devoured.
The affair became very embarrassing; the half-caste did not know what to think; he asked himself whether he had not been deceived—if the corpse he had discovered was really that of the Grand Sarigue?
All of a sudden a bright idea crossed his mind; there was evidently treason, the man whom he had met wore a disguise!
One man only could have assumed with such rare skill another costume and bearing. That man was Diogo.
As soon as this thought had occurred to Malco Diaz, it gave certainty to his mind. Foaming with rage at having been so far duped, and burning to revenge himself, he abruptly turned the bridle of his horse.
But while Malco was making these reflections, and had, by a course of deduction, at last arrived at the truth, a considerable time had passed—a time that the Indian had profited by planning and preparing for a ruse which should aid him to escape.
Persons who do not know that noble and intelligent race, the horses of the American desert, will, with difficulty, conceive even a distant idea of the wonderful speed with which a pursuit in the desert is executed.
When the horse has been incessantly excited, he feels the magnetic influence of his horseman, and appears to identify himself with him, and to understand his wishes.
Grand in his fury and energy, his eyes full of fire, his nostrils spirting with blood, his mouth foaming, feeling neither bit nor bridle, he seems to annihilate space, leaping ravines, scaling hills, crossing rivers, overcoming all obstacles with a dexterity, skill, and velocity, which pass all belief, animating himself on his journey, and by degrees reaching a kind of mad and proud excitement, so much the more beautiful, as he appears to understand that he may die in the desperate battle in which he is struggling; but what matters if he attains the end, and if his master is saved?
It was such a journey as that we have just described that at this moment was maintained, shall we say, by the two horses, for their horsemen, impelled by their implacable hatred, saw nothing and thought of nothing.
Malco Diaz redoubled his efforts to regain the ground he had lost, but in vain. He was alone, and his horse had attained the extreme limit of his speed.
Woods succeeded to woods; hills to hills. Diogo was still invisible; he appeared to have been suddenly engulphed, so wonderful was his rapid disappearance.
If the half-caste was well mounted, the captain also had an excellent horse.
Finally, after three hours of a desperate course, Malco Diaz arrived at the summit of a little hill which he had ascended at a gallop, and perceived far before him a cloud of dust which seemed to fly before the hurricane.
He guessed it was his enemy, and afresh urged his horse, whose efforts were already prodigious.
By degrees, whether it was that the horse that Diogo rode was more fatigued than that of the half-caste, by reason of his long journey on the previous night, or whether that of Malco Diaz was naturally swifter, the latter perceived that he gained on his enemy.
The mameluco uttered a cry of joy, like the howl of a wild beast, and seized his carbine.
Meanwhile, the journey was still continued, and afar off in the distant horizon might be seen the hill on the summit of which the Brazilians had encamped. No doubt, the sentinels of the whites posted on the trees could distinguish, although indistinctly, the strange actors in this extraordinary struggle.
It was necessary, then, to bring it to an end, so much the more as, strange to say, the Guaycurus remained invisible, and thus allowed it to be supposed that they had discovered the uselessness of a longer blockade.
The solitude and abandonment on the part of his allies disquieted the half-caste.
At last the distance between the two travellers became so little that they would soon find themselves within pistol shot of each other.
Malco Diaz charged his carbine, shouldered it, and without slackening his horse, fired.
Diogo's horse, struck in the body made a prodigious bound in advance, reared convulsively on his hind legs, uttered a neigh of grief, and fell backward, dragging his rider with him in his fall.
Malco slung his carbine and darted like a shot, with a cry of triumph, on his enemy.
Leaping immediately to the ground, he darted towards him with a bound like a tiger, and raised his poignard to finish him, in case he was not quite dead.
But his arm fell powerless by his side, and he started back with a howl of disappointment and rage.
At the same moment he was vigorously seized from behind, and stretched upon the grass before he had even had the time to attempt to resist.
"Eh, eh, companion," said Diogo to him in a railing voice; "how do you like that? It is well done, is it not?"
This is what had happened:—
Diogo had immediately decided that if he continued to fly in a straight line, his enemy, mounted on a fresh horse, would not be long in overtaking him, and that even if he escaped him, he would inevitably fall into the hands of the Guaycurus.
He had then calculated his flight, so as to deviate by degrees in an imperceptible manner at first, in order to avoid the spot where he supposed their enemies had established their camp.
This first stratagem had completely succeeded. Malco Diaz, blinded by the desire to overtake Diogo, had followed him in the tracks that he had made, without caring to explain to himself the reasons for his route.
When the Indian had arrived at the outskirts of a wood, he had jumped to the ground, and with that remarkable dexterity which those of his race possess, he had made a sham horseman with grass, and covered it with the clothing which he himself wore; then, after having firmly attached it to the back of the horse, under the saddle and to the flanks of which he had placed piercing thorns, he had started the animal off in the direction which he wished him to take.
As to himself, he continued his route on foot.
It was a few minutes after his coming out of the wood that Malco Diaz, for the first time, perceived the horse that galloped so rapidly before him.
This explanation that Diogo, with a saturnine air, gave to Malco, further increased his fury.
"You have killed a horse that I loved—a noble beast, that I shall with difficulty replace. I ought, then, to kill you, Malco; but I shall not redden my knife with your blood."
"You would do wrong, Diogo," sullenly answered Malco, "for I swear to you, that on the first opportunity I will kill you."
"You will act according to your instincts, Malco. I know that you are a wicked man."
"I will kill you—I swear it by my share of paradise."
"Your share in paradise would appear to me very doubtful, my poor friend; but that is not the question now."
"What do you mean to do, then, since you say you do not wish to kill me?"
"What I promise I intend to perform, Malco; no, I will not kill you, but I will place you in a position where it is impossible for you to injure me."
The half-caste did not answer; he foamed with fury, and writhed like a serpent on the ground.
"Keep still a moment, Malco," said the captain, peaceably; "you are really very troublesome."
And so saying, he bound him firmly with his lasso, notwithstanding his prodigious efforts to escape.
"There, it is finished," cried Diogo, when the last knot was tied. "Now I have only to gag you."
"To gag me!" cried the half-caste; "To gag me! Why?"
"Why, my friend, I find you very innocent; permit me to tell you that if I gag you, it is probably to prevent you from crying out."
There was a moment of silence. Malco reflected, and Diogo made a gag with the care and attention that he brought to bear on all he did.
"How long do you think it will take to put yourself in safety?" asked the half-caste.
"Why do you ask that question?" answered the captain, kneeling down before him.
"What does it matter to you? Answer me frankly."
"If that can give you any pleasure, I am willing to do so, Malco. Two hours will be long enough."
"Well, if I promise you to remain quiet where I am, without calling out, would you gag me?"
"Hum!" said the captain; "A promise is a very vague thing, Malco, when it concerns life or death."
"That is true, but if I made you that promise?"
Diogo shook his head with an embarrassed air.
"Come! Answer!" pursued Malco.
"Well, no! I could not accept it," said Diogo. "There, I tell you plainly, it would be too dangerous."
"Wait," cried Malco, as he prepared to fix the gag.
Diogo stopped.
"Well, now," pursued Malco, "if, instead of this promise, I were to give you my word of honour as a cavalheiro, what would you do?"
"Hum," answered the other, "but would you give it me?"
"Why do you ask that?"
"Because you would keep it, and you do not wish to enter into an engagement with me."
"So you believe my word?"
"Certainly."
"Well, do not gag me, Diogo; I give it you."
"Come, you are jesting."
"By no means; I give you my word of honour to remain as I am—not for two hours only, but for three—without stirring, and without offering a cry."
"Indeed!" said the captain, looking at him full in the face; "Are you serious?"
"Quite serious; is it agreed?"
"It is agreed," answered Diogo, and he threw away the gag.
Strange anomaly of character in certain men, and which is so often met with, especially among the Brazilian half-castes; with them their word is everything, nothing will induce them to break it.
Diogo knew so well that he could trust to that word, that he accepted it without hesitation.
"I leave you, Malco," said he to him; "do not distress yourself too much."
"Go to the devil; but remember that I have promised to kill you."
"Bah, bah!" answered the other; "You say that now because you are furious. I suppose you think, as you have not succeeded against me today, that you will be more fortunate another time."
"I hope so," said the half-caste, gnashing his teeth.
Diogo easily caught the horse, which was not very far off, and started off.
As soon as the captain had reached the bank he abandoned the horse, entered the water, and commenced to swim.
Although this river literally swarmed with alligators, the captain had not hesitated to enter it. He knew by experience that alligators rarely attack man.
The only thing he feared was to be perceived by the Indian sentinels, who, without doubt, were in ambush in the neighbouring woods.
But luck did not desert him in this last and desperate effort.
Arrived at a short distance from the thicket he wished to reach, Diogo glided between two streams. For that matter, this precaution was, let us hasten to say, not necessary; it was not the river (on which they had nothing to fear) that the Guaycurus watched, but only the hill where their enemies were to be found.
Diogo glided then, without encumbrance, into the thicket, opened the hole he had made to conceal his clothes, and drew them out with a thrill of delight; but instead of clothing himself with them, he made a packet of them, as well as of his arms, and again entered the river.
This mode of travelling appeared to him shorter and safer.
In order not to attract too much attention to himself, the captain had enveloped his packet in palm leaves, and had fastened the whole upon his head. Thus, as he swam, on the level of the water, this packet appeared to be drifting gently with the current; from the bank, it had completely the appearance of a mass of leaves and branches.
He soon reached the foot of the hill; there he was safe, and he could only be seen by the persons whom chance might have brought to the other bank.
After having calculated with a look the height he would have to ascend, and elevating himself almost perpendicularly above the river, the captain took in one hand his poignard, and in the other the knife confided to him by Tarou Niom as a sign of recognition, and began, with extreme ease and dexterity, to scale this kind of wall, planting by turns his weapons in the fissures of the rocks, and then pulling himself up by mere strength of wrist.
The ascent of the captain was long. At one time he remained suspended between heaven and earth, without being able either to mount or descend. But Diogo was a man endowed with too much coolness and courage to despair; a moment of reflection made him perceive a declivity less rough than that which he was pursuing.
Arrived on the platform of the hill, he made a halt for a moment to take breath. His difficult expedition had, against all probability, terminated happily; the information he had gained was important; all then was for the best, and he inwardly congratulated himself, not on the manner in which he had conducted this perilous affair, but on the pleasure that his return would give his companions.
He then prepared himself, and again set out on his journey with a step as free and as light as if he had not supported superhuman fatigues.
The sun was setting at the moment when the captain reached the summit of the hill.
As soon as his return became known, all his companions pressed around him with cries of joy, which awakened the marquis, and caused him to run out.
The captain uttered an exclamation of surprise and of grief, at the scene which presented itself to his eyes when he found himself within the enclosure of the camp.
The tents and vehicles had been reduced to ashes; the greater part of the mules, and a great number of the horses, had been killed; seven or eight corpses of hunters and Negroes were lying here and there on the ground; trees, half-burnt and lying in a confused mass, added still more to the horror of this spectacle.
Doña Laura, having taken refuge, as well as she was able, under an enramada,[1]exposed to the wind, and crouched sorrowfully before a dying fire, was preparing, with the aid of Phoebe, the evening meal.
In fact, everything presented an aspect of ruin and desolation.
"Mon Dieu! What does all this mean?" cried he with grief.
"It means," answered the marquis, bitterly, "that you were not wrong, Diogo."
"But has there, then, been a fight during my absence?"
"No; there has been a surprise; but come, Diogo, a moment with you privately, and I will explain what has happened."
The captain followed him.
When they were out of sight of the Brazilians, the marquis commenced his narrative.
Two hours after the departure of Diogo, a shower of burning arrows had rained suddenly on the camp from all sides at once, and that in so desperate a way that at first the Brazilians did not know where to run, or in what manner to defend themselves. The fire had almost immediately burst out with such an intensity that it was impossible to extinguish it; a burning arrow having, unhappily, fallen in the waggon which contained the powder, the vehicle was blown up, killing and wounding several men.
The Guaycurus had profited by the fright of the Brazilians, to attempt a furious assault, during which the remainder of the munitions had been almost wholly expended.
Diogo sadly shook his head at this painful narrative; then he commenced his own, which his companion listened to with profound attention.
When he had finished, there was a momentary pause.
"What do you recommend?" at last asked the marquis.
"The situation is almost desperate," decisively answered the captain. "The most prudent course, in my opinion, would be to try a sortie; to try and open a passage for ourselves."
"Yes," murmured the marquis, aside, "perhaps that would be better; but I wish to wait a bit. I have dispatched a scout to gain information about the enemy."
"You alone are master," answered Diogo, who had heard him; "but every minute that passes takes away from us, believe me, several days of our existence."
"Perhaps," violently cried the marquis, stamping with anger; "but we do not know all yet. Can I not try to join Don Joachim Terraira?"
"Certainly, you can, your Excellency."
"Well!" cried he, with joy.
"Well! You will only succeed in causing us all to be massacred the quicker—that is all."
After having uttered these words, the captain turned his back on the marquis, and rejoined his companions.