[1]Double canvas pockets, which are carried behind the saddle.
[1]Double canvas pockets, which are carried behind the saddle.
By degrees, as the Guaycurus warriors advanced towards the mountains, the landscape assumed a more severe and a more picturesque aspect.
The road, or rather the path followed by the troops mounted by an almost imperceptible slope, by risings of earth which serve, so to speak, as gigantic steps to the first chain of the Cordilleras.
The forests became more dense, the trees were larger and more closely packed to each other. Hidden streams might have been heard murmuring—torrents which precipitate themselves from the height of the mountains, and, uniting, form these rivers, which at some leagues in the plain acquire great importance, and are often large as arms of the sea.
Large flights of vultures wheeled slowly, high in the air, over the horsemen, uttering their harsh and discordant cries.
Gueyma had not neglected any precautions that the Cougar had recommended him; scouts had been dispatched in advance in order to search the woods, and to discover, if possible, the tracks that they suspected would not fail them in these regions.
Other Indians had quitted their horses, and, right and left, on the flanks of the troop, they searched the forests, whose mysterious depths could well conceal an ambuscade.
The Guaycurus advanced in a long and close column—thoughtful and silent—the eye on the watch and the hand on their arms, ready to make use of them at the first signal.
The two chiefs marched in front, about twenty paces from their companions.
When they were in the middle of a thick forest, the immense masses of verdure in which not only deprived them of a view of the sky, but also intercepted the burning rays of the sun; and when the horsemen, whose horses were passing through a long and thick grass, filed through the trees silently as a legion of phantoms, the Cougar placed his hand on the arm of his companion, and making use of the Castilian dialect—
"Let us speak Spanish," said he; "I do not wish any longer to delay giving you that information I have promised you. If we have to be attacked, it will only be in the neighbourhood of such an unlucky place as that in which we now find ourselves; it is one of the best chosen for an ambuscade. I am much deceived if we shall not soon hear resounding under these arches of foliage the war cry of our enemies. It is time, then that I explained myself clearly to you, for perhaps it will be too late when we arrive at the encampment. Listen to me, then, attentively, and whatever you hear me say, my dear Gueyma, concentrate in yourself your emotions, and do not exhibit in your features either anger, joy, or astonishment."
"Speak, Cougar; I will conform to your advice."
"The time has not yet come," pursued the old man, "to reveal to you the whole truth. Let it suffice, at present, to know that, brought up among the whites, whose faith and customs I had adopted, and for whom I professed, and profess still, the most sincere devotion, it is not for you, Gueyma—for you whose birth I remember, and whom I love as a son—that I have consented to abandon the numberless enjoyments of civilised life, to resume the life—precarious and full of dangers and privations—of a nomadic Indian. I had taken an oath of vengeance and devotion. This oath I believe, I have religiously kept. The vengeance, long time prepared by me in secret, will be, I am convinced, so much the more terrible as it, will have been slow to strike the guilty. In the great act that I meditate, Gueyma, you will aid me, for they are your interests alone that I have constantly defended in all I have done, and it is you, more than I, who are interested in the success of what I wish still to do."
"What you tell me," answered the young chief, with emotion, "my heart has had a presentiment of, and I have almost guessed. For a long time I have known and appreciated, as I ought, the faithful and almost boundless friendship which you have always manifested for me. You will, therefore, render me this justice Cougar, that I have always conformed to your advice, often severe, and have allowed myself to be blindly guided by your counsels, that I have scarcely ever understood."
"It is true, my boy, you have acted thus; but when we talk between ourselves, call me Diogo. This is the name they formerly gave me when I was among the whites, and it recalls to me ineffaceable memories of joy and of grief."
"Well, my friend, as you wish it, I will call you so between ourselves, till you permit me, or till circumstances permit me to resume boldly in the face of all a name which I am sure you have honoured all the time you have borne it."
"Yes, yes," answered the old man, with complaisance, "there was a time when the name of Diogo had a certain celebrity, but who remembers it now?"
"Resume, I beg, what you commenced to tell me, and do not dwell any more on painful memories."
"You are right, Gueyma; let me forget them for a time, and return to the affair that I am going to confide to you. What I have said has no other design than that of proving to you that, if often I have apparently arrogated to myself the right of counselling you, or of wishing you to modify your plans, this right was acquired by long services and a devotion under all circumstances to yourself."
"I have never had, my friend, the thought—even for a moment—of discussing your acts or counteracting your projects. I have, on the contrary, always studied to bend my convictions to your long experience."
"I am pleased to render you this justice, my friend; but if I insist so much on this subject, it is that the circumstances in which we are now placed demand that you have entire confidence in me. In a word, here are the facts: the Brazilians, believing they no longer want us, now that they have seized upon the greater part of the towns of the Banda Oriental—thanks to the civil war which divides the Spaniards, and obliges them to fight against each other rather than against the common enemy—would not be sorry to be free of us, and to allow us to be crushed by superior forces. Forgetting the services that, from the commencement of the war, we have rendered them, the Brazilians, not only in a cowardly way abandon us, but, not content with that, they wish to deliver us to the enemy, in the hope that, succumbing, notwithstanding our courage under the weight of superior force, we shall be all massacred."
"I feared this treason," answered Gueyma, with pensive air, sadly shaking his head. "You remember my friend, that I was opposed to the conclusion of the treaty."
"Yes, I even remember that it was I who induced you to conclude it, and that from consideration to me alone you consented to throw down yourquipoin acceptance in the council. Well, my friend, from that moment I foresaw this treason; I will say now—I hoped it."
The young chief turned sharply to his companion, looking at him with the most lively surprise:
"I begged you," resumed the old man, without in any way manifesting emotion, "not to show on your countenance any sentiments which, during our conversation, might agitate your heart. Collect yourself, then, my friend, in order to avoid awakening the suspicions of our warriors, and allow me to continue."
"I am listening to you; but what you say to me is so extraordinary—"
"That you do not understand me—is that it? But, patience; you will soon have the explanation of this mystery, especially as I shall be able to give you this explanation without perilling the success of the projects that I meditate."
"All this appears to me so strange," said Gueyma, "that my reason almost refuses to comprehend it."
The Cougar smiled silently, and after having cast an inquiring look around him, he unaffectedly approached his companion, and, leaning towards his ear—
"Do you like the whites?" he asked.
"No," decisively answered the chief; "but I do not entertain any hatred towards them. It is true," added he, with an ill-concealed bitterness, "that I am too young yet to have had to suffer from their tyranny."
"Just so; however, my friend, if it is allowable for me to boast before you of my experience, let me tell you that every sentiment is unjust when it is exclusive; that the life you have led, the examples you have had under your eyes, indispose you towards the company of the whites. I understand this, and do not reproach you with it; but you should not, even if you should have had to complain of one or of several of them, render them all responsible for the crime of some, and include them in the same hatred. Amongst the whites there are some good. I even intend soon to make you acquainted with one of them."
"Me!" cried the young man.
"You, certainly; and why not, if it conduce to the success of our plans?"
"My friend, you speak in a way that is entirely incomprehensible to me; my mind seeks vainly to follow you, and to grasp your meaning in the midst of the inextricable network in which you are pleased to entangle it. Be plain with me, and do not let me thus fatigue myself to no purpose in trying to guess your meaning."
"Well, in a few words, here is what has happened: The Brazilian general with whom we treated had but one motive in entering into relations with us—to remove us, for reasons that he thinks are known to himself alone, but which I know as well as he does from our hunting territories, and to remove us in such a way as we should never return to them again."
"But it appears to me that if such were his design he has attained it to a certain extent."
"Perhaps he has realised the half of his plan, but the other half will not succeed so easily. This man is not only the enemy of our tribe, but he is your most implacable enemy, and his most anxious desire is to make you succumb to him."
"Me! But he does not know me, my friend."
"You think so, dear Gueyma; but I am in a better position than you to judge the matter; believe then, the truth of my words."
"It is sufficient; I am happy to know what you tell me."
"Why so?"
"Because the first time that chance brings me in his presence I shall make no scruple to cleave his head open."
"Be careful not to do that, my friend!" cried the Cougar, with a start of fear. "If—which I hope will not happen—you should find yourself face to face with him, it will be necessary for you to feign—I will not say friendship—but at least the most complete indifference to him. Remember this advice, and make use of it if occasion require. Vengeance has been prepared for him long ago, and will only succeed when a good opportunity offers. What I tell you appears to you, I know, incomprehensible; but soon, I hope, I shall be able to explain myself more clearly, and then you will acknowledge the truth of my words and how far I have been right in recommending prudence. I do not wish to insist anymore on this point; we shall not be long before we reach the spot assigned for the encampment, and, I have to speak to you of another person towards whom I shall be happy to see you process the most frank and amicable sentiments."
"And who is this person, if you please, my friend? Does he belong to our race, or is he a white?"
"I speak of a white, my dear Gueyma, and, moreover, of a white who, up to the present time, you have thought one of our deadliest enemies; in a word, I mean the chief, whom the Spaniards call Zeno Cabral."
"I admire the prudence which you manifested at the commencement of this conversation, in recommending me not to allow myself to express any mark of surprise, and to preserve an impassive countenance."
"Yes, you sneer," answered the Cougar, with a slight smile, "and apparently you are right; however, before long—as always happens when people have not been in a position to thoroughly examine facts—events will show you are wrong."
"Upon my word I avow to you, my friend, in all sincerity, that I ardently desire—and you can believe me, notwithstanding all the injury this chief has done us since the commencement of our expedition—I feel myself attracted towards him by a feeling that I cannot analyse, and which—in spite of the wish I have often had to do so—has always prevented me from hating him."
"Do you speak truth? Do you really feel this instinctive attraction towards this man?"
"I assure you it is so; I feel myself constrained to love him; and if you proved to me ever so little that he ought to be so, I assure you that I shall not feel any displeasure in following your injunction."
"Love him then, my friend; follow the impulse of your heart; it will not deceive you. This man is indeed, really worth your friendship, and you will soon have the proof of it."
"How so?"
"In the most simple way. I will soon present you to each other."
"You will make me acquainted with Zeno Cabral?"
"Yes."
"That is what astonishes me. Why, he will not dare to come into our camp!"
"In case of need, at my call, he would not hesitate to do so; but it is not in this way that we must act. He will not come into our camp; we, on the contrary, will go to find him."
"We?"
"Certainly."
"Oh! Oh! Have you well reflected, my friend, on the consequences of such a proceeding? If this man should spread a net for us?"
"We have nothing of that sort to fear from him."
Gueyma lowered his head with a pensive air. For a long time the two chiefs continued thus to ride side by side without exchanging a word, absorbed each by his own thoughts. At last the young man looked up and said:
"We shall soon be at the spot where we have decided to camp till the hottest part of the day passes. Have you nothing more to say to me?"
"Nothing at present, my friend. We shall soon resume this conversation; now we must instal our warriors in a secure position, for, perhaps, we shall remain in this encampment longer than you suppose."
"What! Shall we not set out again in a few hours?"
"It is scarcely probable, but for that matter you will decide for yourself when the time has come."
And as if he wished to prevent the young chief asking him a question that he probably would not have cared to answer, the Cougar checked his bridle, and stopping his horse, allowed his companion to pass him.
Meanwhile, the pathway broadened more and more, the forest became less dense, and, after having turned a corner, the Indians came out on to a kind of rather large esplanade, entirely denuded of trees, although covered with a tall and coarse grass. This esplanade formed what in Mexico they call avoladero, that is to say, that from this side the base of the mountain—which the Guaycurus had traversed almost without perceiving it, by a gentle declivity, worn away by the streams, or by an inundation produced by one of those convulsions so frequent in this country—formed beneath the esplanade an enormous cavity, which gave it the appearance of a gigantic balcony, and rendered it on this side almost impossible to attack.
On the opposite side, the flanks of the mountain were escarped in abrupt blocks of rock, on the edge of which the vicuñas and the lamas alone would have been able to place their delicate feet without fear of falling.
The only accessible points were those by which the esplanade was reached—that is to say, the path itself—a point most easy to defend by means of some trunks of trees thrown across it.
Gueyma could not retain a smile of satisfaction at the sight of this natural fortress.
"What a misfortune that we must in a few hours abandon so advantageous a position!" murmured he.
The Cougar smiled without answering, and proceeded to organise the camp. Some warriors went to seek the wood necessary for the fires, others felled several trees, leaving all the branches on, and which thus formed an almost impregnable entrenchment.
The horses were unsaddled and set at liberty, so that they could get at the green grass, which they began to eat heartily.
The fires lighted, they prepared the morning meal, and the Guaycurus warriors soon found themselves installed on the esplanade in as firm a position as if they intended to make a long stay, instead of only stopping there in passing.
When the sentinels were stationed, the meal was finished, and the warriors were stretched here and there to repose—according to the invariable custom of Indians, who do not think that, unless in exceptional circumstances, they should remain awake when they can sleep—the Cougar approached Gueyma.
"You feel fatigued?" he asked, with a significant gesture.
"Not at all," answered he; "but why this question?"
"Simply because I intend to go out a little on discovery, to assure myself that the country is clear—that we have no ambuscade to fear on our march; and that if you like to accompany me while our warriors repose, we will go together."
"I should like nothing better," answered Gueyma, who felt that the excursion was but a pretext to deceive the warriors, and to account for their own departure.
"If it is to be so," pursued the Cougar, "let us set out without waiting any longer; we have not a moment to lose."
The young man immediately rose and took his gun.
"We go on foot?" said he.
"Certainly, our horses would embarrass us; they would only retard our progress, which, moreover, ought to be secret."
"Let us go then."
The two chiefs immediately quitted the camp by the point opposite to that by which they had arrived, but not without having recommended an older chief to replace them during their absence, and to watch with the greatest vigilance over the common safety.
They were not long in disappearing in the midst of the thick shrubbery and trees by which the track was bordered on either side.
They walked at a good pace, contenting themselves by at times casting an enquiring look around them, without taking any other precaution to conceal their presence.
Gueyma silently followed the Cougar, inwardly asking himself what was the design of this mysterious excursion.
As to the old man, he advanced without any hesitation, proceeding through this labyrinth of verdure with a certainty which showed a perfect knowledge of the place, and previously determined plan, for the two chiefs had left the track, and without following any path they walked straight on, surmounting the obstacles which from time to time came in their way, without turning to right or left.
In about half an hour they reached the dry bed of a torrent, which formed a large hollow in the mountain, and clinging with hands and feet, with that skill which characterises the Indians, to the rugged stones, the tufts of grass, and the branches of shrubbery, they began to descend rapidly by a rather rude declivity, and which, to any other men, would have presented great difficulty, and even danger.
About halfway down, the Cougar stepped on a fragment of rock, before a natural excavation, whose gaping mouth opened just before him.
After looking in all directions, the old man made a sign to his companion to place himself near him, and pointing to the cavern:
"It is there we are going," said he, in a low voice.
"Ah!" answered the young man, with as smiling an air as he could affect, although his curiosity was much excited; "If that is the case, let us not stop here any longer; let us enter."
"One moment," pursued the Cougar, "let us first assure ourselves that he has arrived."
"Arrived! Who?" asked the young man.
"He whom we wish to see, probably," said the old man.
"Ah! Very well; only it is you, not I, who wish to see the person of whom you speak."
"Let us not play upon words, my friend; it is as important to you as to me, believe me, that this interview takes place."
"You know that I allow myself to be entirely guided by you; I think I have even given proof of exemplary docility. After this conversation which is about to take place, I shall probably be in a better position to know of what importance to me is this proceeding, which, I avow, I only enter upon with misgiving; although, I repeat, I feel myself attracted towards this man."
The Cougar opened his lips as though he was about to answer, but immediately changing his mind, he turned with an abrupt movement, and, after having again explored the locality by looking around him, he imitated twice the cry of the condor.
Almost immediately a similar cry came from the cavern.
The old man quickly approached the entrance, and slightly leaning forward, as he cocked his gun to be ready for any emergency:
"We have walked a long time, we are fatigued," said he, as if he addressed his companion; "let us rest here a few minutes; this solitary place appears to me to be safe."
"You will be received there by good friends," immediately replied a voice from the interior of the cavern.
The sound of steps was heard, and a man appeared.
The newcomer, clothed in the picturesque costume of the Banda Oriental, was no other than Zeno Cabral.
Gueyma remarked, with a surprise which he did not attempt to conceal, that the chief of the Montonero had no arms, at least, apparently.
"Welcome," said he, bowing with graceful courtesy to the two Indian chiefs; "I have waited for you some time, I am happy to see you."
The Guaycurus captains bowed silently, and followed him, without hesitation, into the cavern.
We will abandon for some time the Guaycurus chiefs, to transport ourselves twenty leagues off, in the very heart of the Cordilleras, where were certain personages which have much to do with this narrative, and where, two or three days before that we have reached, events had passed which we must relate.
The civil war, in destroying the old hierarchy, established by the Castilians in their colonies, and in overturning ranks and castes, had brought to the surface of Hispano-American society certain persons very interesting to study, and amongst whom the Pincheyras undoubtedly held the most prominent place.
Let us state who were these Pincheyras, whose name has already several times been mentioned, and from whence came that dark and mysterious celebrity, which, even now, after so many years, surrounds their name with so much horror.
Pincheyra began, like the greater part of the partisans of this epoch—that is to say, that at first he was a bandit. Born at San Carlos, in the centre of that province of Manli whose inhabitants never bowed to the yoke of the Incas, and only submitted to that of the Spaniards, Don Pablo Pincheyra was an Indian from head to foot; the blood of the Araucans flowed almost unmixed in his veins; so that when he was outlawed, and constrained to seek a refuge among the Indians, the latter responded with alacrity to his first call, and came joyfully around him, to form the nucleus; of that redoubtable squadron which afterwards was to be called the royal army.
Pincheyra had three brothers. These men, who had gained but a scanty subsistence in wielding by turns the lasso and the hatchet—that is to say, in working on the farms and as woodcutters—seized the opportunity which their elder brother offered them, and attached themselves to him, in company with all the scapegraces it was possible to recruit.
Thus, the Pincheyras, as they were called, were not long in becoming the terror of the country that they had been pleased to choose as the theatre of their exploits.
When they had pillaged the greatchacras, and put the hamlets to ransom, they took refuge in the desert, and here they braved with impunity the powerful rage of their enemies.
In fact, in these far-off regions, Justice, too weak, cannot make herself respected, and her agents, notwithstanding their good will, were obliged to remain spectators of the depredations daily committed by the bandits.
Don Pablo Pincheyra was far from being an ordinary man. Nature had been bountiful to him. To the courage of a lion he added a rare sagacity, a keenness of perception which was uncommon, united to manners full of nobility and affability.
Thus, events aiding, the bold chief of the bandits, far from being disquieted by his incessant acts of brigandage, knew how to make himself acceptable, not only as a partisan, but also to be sought after and solicited by those whose interest it had so long been to crush him, but who now found themselves obliged to claim his aid.
Don Pablo did not allow himself to be dazzled by this new caprice of fortune; he found himself at once equal to the part which chance called on him to play, and he boldly declared for Spain against the revolution.
His troop, considerably augmented by the deserters and volunteers who came to range themselves under his banner, was by degrees disciplined, thanks to some European officers which Don Pablo had succeeded in obtaining, and the old squadron of bandits was metamorphosed almost immediately into a regular troop—nearly an army—since it numbered in infantry and cavalry more than 1,500 combatants, a considerable number at that time in these sparsely populated countries.
When he considered that the royal army, as he emphatically called it, was in a position to take the field, Don Pablo Pincheyra boldly took the offensive, and commenced hostilities against the insurgents, falling upon them suddenly, and defeating them in several encounters.
The Pincheyras knew the most secret hiding places in the Cordilleras. Their expeditions over, they withdrew into these retreats, so much the more inaccessible, as they were defended not only by desolate solitude, but by the terror which these redoubtable partisans inspired. They cared for nothing, and spared neither children, women, nor old men, dragging them after them, attached by the wrists to the tails of their horses.
Another partisan chief—a brave and honest Castilian officer—also fought for the defence of the losing cause of Spain. He was named Zinoxain.
Thus, at the time when South America, from Mexico to the frontiers of Patagonia, rose at once against the odious yoke of Spain, and boldly proclaimed its independence, two isolated men, without any otherprestigethan their indomitable energy, sustained only by Indian bravos, and adventurers of all nations, heroically struggled against the current which was carrying them away, and endeavoured to place the colonies again under the domination of Castile.
Notwithstanding the misdeeds of these men—the Pincheyras especially, whose savage cruelty often led them into unjustifiable acts of barbarism—there was, nevertheless, something really grand in this determination not to abandon the fortune of their old masters, and to perish rather than betray their cause. Accordingly, even now, after so many years, their names in these countries are surrounded with a kind of halo of glory, and they have become to the mass of the people legendary beings, whose incredible exploits are related with respectful fear, as, after the hard labours of day, they peacefully talk round the watch fire on the Pampas, drinking theirmaté, and smoking their cigarettes.
At about twenty leagues from the spot where the Guaycurus had stopped till the hottest part of the day had passed—in the centre of a vast valley, crowned on all sides by the snowy and inaccessible peaks of the Cordillera—Don Pablo Pincheyra had established his camp.
This camp, placed near the source of two rivers, was not provisional, but permanent; so it rather resembled a town than a bivouac of soldiers. The huts—made in the Indian fashion, in the form oftoldos, with stakes crossed at the top, and covered with leather from the hides of cows and mares—affected a kind of symmetry in their position, forming streets, squares, and crossways, havingcorrals, filled with oxen and horses. Some of them had little gardens, where were grown, as well as it could be done considering the region of the climate, a few kitchen herbs.
In the centre of the camp were thetoldosof the officers, and of the four brothers Pincheyra—toldos, better built, better furnished, and much cleaner than those of the soldiers.
Entrance could only be had into the valley where the camp was established by two narrow canyons, situated one at the east, and the other at the southwest of the camp; but these two canyons were so fortified by means of heaps of wood massed together, apparently pell-mell, but perfectly arranged nevertheless, that any attempt to force the double entry of these canyons would have been vain. The sentinels planted there, however—their eyes fixed on the windings of the defiles—watched attentively over the common safety, while their companions, withdrawn under theirtoldos, lounged at their occupations with an easy carelessness which showed they were certain they had no serious danger to fear.
Thetoldoof Don Pablo Pincheyra was easy to recognise at the first glance. Two sentinels paced before it, and several horses, saddled and ready to be mounted, were attached to pickets at some paces from the door, over which, from a long lance fixed in the ground, floated majestically the Spanish flag, in the inconstant play of the fresh morning breeze. Women—amongst whom several were young and pretty, though their features were for the most part tarnished by sorrow and excessive labour—traversed the streets of the camp, carrying water, wood, or provisions; some at the entrance of thetoldoswere occupied in the cares of the house; and soldiers mounted on strong horses, and armed with long lances, drove the animals out of thecorrals, and led them to the pasturage outside the camp. In fact, all was bustle and animation in this strange repair of the bandits, who called themselves the royal army; and yet, through all this excitement and apparent disorder it was easy to recognise a regulating mind, and a powerful will which directed all, without ever meeting objection or even hesitation on the part of the subordinates.
At the moment we enter the camp a man wearing the costume of the Gauchos of the Pampas Of Buenos Aires, lifted thefrazada, a covering serving for a door to atoldo, built with some regularity, and after having cast around him a curious and anxious look, he left thetoldo, though with some hesitation, and entered the street.
Like all the inhabitants of this singular centre of population, this man was armed to the teeth, with a sabre which hung at his left side, a pair of long pistols passed through his girdle, a knife with a straight blade fixed on his rightpolena, and the horn handle of which rested on his thigh, and a double-barrelled gun, which was thrown on his shoulder.
Notwithstanding this formidable arsenal which he carried with him, the man of whom we speak appeared by no means at his ease. His hesitating walk, the furtive glances which he continually threw around him—all denoted a misgiving which he tried vainly to conceal, but which he could not succeed in conquering.
"Parbleu!" murmured he, in a low voice, "I am an idiot, upon my honour! One man is as good as another; and if it should come to blows, it must. If I am killed—well, so much the better, for then all will be over. I should like that the more, as this absurd existence begins to weigh heavily on me. Never mind, I doubt whether Salvator Rosa, when he was among the brigands, ever saw such a complete collection of bandits as those with whom I have had the happiness of living for the last two months. What magnificent vagabonds! It would be impossible, I think, to meet their equals. Ah!" added he, with a sigh of regret, "If it were only possible for me to sketch some of them! But no, these fellows have no love for art; it is impossible to trace them for a moment. To the devil with that queer notion which made me stupidly abandon France to come here."
And Emile Gagnepain—for the reader has doubtless already recognised him—gave a second sigh, more profound than the first, and cast upward a despairing look.
Meanwhile, he continued to advance hastily towards one of the outlets of the camp. His step had become by degrees more firm: he had proudly raised his head, and had succeeded—with great difficulty, no doubt—in affecting the most complete carelessness.
The painter had nearly traversed the entire length of the camp; he had reached a rather largetoldo, serving as acorps de gardefor the soldiers, watching at the entrenchments; and he hastened his pace with the design, no doubt, of escaping the inquisitive questions of some lazy partisan, when he felt himself tapped on the shoulder. Although this touch had nothing aggressive in it, and was, on the contrary, quite friendly, the young man started; but, putting a good face on it, he immediately turned, and, assuming the most amiable look that he could, he held out his hand to him who had thus come upon him unawares, and smilingly saluted him with thebuenos días caballero, which is the rule throughout Spanish territory.
"And you, Señor Frenchman," gaily answered his visitor, returning his salute, and gently pressing his hand, "you are well, I hope. It must be by chance like this for me to have the pleasure of glancing at your friendly face."
The painter was for a moment taken aback at this speech, the malicious tone of which did not escape him; but, conquering his emotion, and feigning the most complete friendliness—
"What do you wish, Don Pablo?" he answered; "This apparent negligence of which you complain is by no means my fault. The cares of your command occupy and absorb you so much that you become unapproachable, whatever desire I may have to visit you."
Don Pablo Pincheyra—for it was he—smiled craftily.
"Is that really the motive which makes you avoid me?" said he.
"Avoid you?"
"Well, find another expression if you can—I am agreeable; I will say abstain from seeking me, if you prefer it."
"You make a mistake, Don Pablo," answered the young man, with firmness, who was getting rather warm; "I do not avoid you any more than I have reason to abstain from seeking you, and the proof—"
"The proof?" interrupted Don Pablo, with a searching look.
"It is that today, at this very moment, I was proceeding towards the intrenchments in the hope of meeting you."
"Ah! Ah!" said he; "Then, as it is so, I am happy,caballero, that chance has so well served you in bringing us face to face."
"Chance has nothing to do in the affair, I beg you to believe, Don Pablo."
"It would have been better, however, to have come simply to mytoldo."
"That is not my opinion, since I meet you here."
"That is true," said the partisan, laughing; "you have an answer for everything, my dear Sir. Let us admit, then, that you really had the intention of visiting me; and will you acquaint me with the reasons to which I owe the honour of this tardy visit?"
"Believe me, dear Don Pablo, this place is not well suited for such a serious conversation as that which I wish to have with you."
"Ah!" said Don Pablo; "Is it then important business on which you have to speak?"
"It could not be more important."
"If that is the case, I am, to my great regret, compelled to beg you to defer this conference for some hours."
"May I be permitted, without appearing impertinent, to ask you the motive of this delay, which, I admit, annoys me much?"
"Oh!Mon Dieu!I have no secrets from you, my dear sir, you know. The fact is, that I expect every moment the arrival of certain persons with whom I must, as soon as they come, have a conversation of the highest importance."
"Pardon, Seigneur Don Pablo, but these persons to whom you allude—I think I know them, by reputation at least; moreover, if I am well informed, I know on what subject their conversation with you will turn."
The black eye of Don Pablo Pincheyra darted a flashing look, which he immediately controlled, and he answered in a gentle and honeyed tone—
"And you infer from that, my dear Sir?—"
"I infer, Seigneur Don Pablo, that perhaps it would be best, in the general interest, that you consented to hear me first."
The painter, whose mind was made up, and who felt anger working within him, had become severe and sharp, and was resolved to push affairs to an extremity, whatever might be the consequences.
On his side, Don Pablo, under his feigned friendliness, concealed a resolution previously made, and from which nothing would make him depart. Between these two men who spoke thus—with a smile on their lips, but hatred, or at least anger, in their hearts—a strange scene was thus being enacted.
It was the partisan who renewed the conversation, which had been for a moment interrupted.
"So, Señor Frenchman," said he, "you had left yourtoldowith the intention of paying me a visit."
"Yes, Seigneur."
"To me specially."
"Yes, to you."
"Eh!" said he, with an expressive sneer, pointing to the young man's girdle, which was furnished with arms; "You will admit that you take singular precautions when you come to see your friends."
"We are in a country, Seigneur," coldly answered the painter, "where it is well to be always on one's guard."
"Even with one's friends?"
"Especially with one's friends," said he, sharply.
"Well," coldly resumed the partisan, "follow me secretly, that we may be able to talk without fear of interruption."
"I will do so."
"You will remark, Señor, that I have more confidence in you than you deign to show towards me."
"Because, Seigneur?—"
"Because I am without arms."
The young man shrugged his shoulders.
"You act as you think fit," said he, coldly; "perhaps you are wrong, perhaps you are right—who can say?"
"I do not fear being assassinated."
"If that insult is addressed to me, it fails. If I am taking precautions against you, it does not follow that I am capable of assassinating you, as you insinuate."
The partisan shook his head with an air of doubt.
"People furnish themselves with arms," continued the young man, with a cutting accent, "to defend themselves against the attacks of wild beasts, without having on that account the desire of fighting them."
"Well, well, Señor Frenchman," said Don Pablo, in a melancholy tone, "come without any more words; I have but a few minutes to give you—take advantage of them."
While exchanging these bitter complaints, the two men had proceeded side by side, and had left the camp, saluted on their passage by the sentinels at the entrenchments.
They continued thus to advance into the country till they had reached a rather retired spot—a kind of elbow formed by a turn in the canyon in which they were, and where they could be neither seen nor heard; while they, on the other hand, could see a considerable distance to right and left up and down the road which led to the camp, and on which no one could have appeared without being discovered.
"I think, Señor Frenchman," said Don Pablo, stopping, "that this place will suit you; be so good, then, as to speak without further delay."
"So I will," answered the Frenchman, placing on the ground the butt end of his gun, and leaning his two hands on the end of the barrel, as he cast a suspicious look around him.
"Oh! We are quite alone; come," pursued Don Pablo, with an ironical smile, "you can speak without fear."
"It is not fear which restrains me just now, but I have so many things to say to you that I do not really know how to commence."
"As you like; only, make haste if you wish me to hear you to the end. In a few minutes, perhaps, I shall be obliged to leave you."
"The Spanish officer whom you expect will not be here for an hour at least; we have time, then."
"How do you know that I expect a Spanish officer?"
"What does that matter, if it is so?"
"Señor Frenchman," pursued he, knitting his eyebrows, and with a somewhat threatening tone, "take care how you penetrate my secrets before I should wish you to know them. For two months that we have lived together you have been, I suppose, in a position to know me. It will not be well, believe me, to try and mix yourself up, against my will, in my affairs."
"You would do well to speak thus if these affairs concerned you alone; but as, unhappily, I find myself concerned in them, they are as much mine as yours."
"I do not understand you."
"Are you quite sure of that?" asked the young man, with an ironical smile.
"Come, explain yourself frankly and honourably, as a man, instead of prating like an old woman," pursued the partisan, beginning to be angry.
"It is two months," resumed the young man, "that we have lived together, as you yourself have said. What have you done during these two months? How have you kept the promise you made me?"
"Have I not saved the two ladies, as I promised, from the peril that threatened them?"
"Yes, but to make them fall into one still worse."
"I do not understand you, Señor."
"There are none so deaf as those who do not wish to hear. You understand me very well Unhappily for you, you have not yet reached the point where you think you are. I have sworn to defend these poor ladies, and I will defend them, if it is at the peril of my life."
"You are mad, Señor; no one that I know—I less than anyone—has any intention to injure these ladies in any way. Since their arrival here at Casa-Frama, you cannot deny that they have been treated with the greatest attention and respect. Of what do they complain?"
"They complain of being exposed to misplaced and almost dishonouring attentions on your part; moreover, they say with reason that, far from giving them that liberty that you had engaged to give them, you sequester them, and treat them as if they were your captives."
Don Pablo shrugged his shoulders with disdain.
"The women are all alike," said he, with irony; "nothing will satisfy them. I am in a better position than these ladies are to judge what is fitting for them.
"Besides, if they will keep quiet, they will not have long to remain here, and if the sight of my companions shocks them, they will soon be delivered from it."
"It is not the sight of your companions which shocks them, but yours and your brothers—the ridiculous homage with which you fatigue them every hour of the day, and the pretentions that you do not fear to make everyone acquainted with."
The features of the partisan contracted, a terrified pallor covered his face, and his eyebrows were knitted till they met.
"Take care, Señor," cried he in a sullen and forced tone, repressing with great difficulty the anger which he felt; "take care; you are in my power—do not forget that; and I am the man whom his enemies have called the bear of Casa-Frama."
"What matters it to me the names they give you?" cried Emile, forgetting all bounds: "One only will suit you, if you persist in the fatal course you have entered on—that of bandit."
"Vive Dieu!" cried he, with violence, "This insult deserves blood! A coward only dares thus to outrage a man without arms."
"Nonsense," resumed the young man, with contempt; "without arms!" and with a gesture of nobility, he threw a pistol at the feet of the partisan, at the same time abandoning his gun, and taking his second pistol from his girdle.
"Pardieu!That is a good evasion! If you are as brave as you pretend, here is a weapon—do me justice. You imagine, then, that I am afraid to fight with you?"
"¡Rayo de Dios!" cried the partisan, with rage, "You shall have the pleasure of it!"
And darting at the pistol, he cocked it, and discharged it almost close to the breast of the young man.
The fate of the latter seemed doomed. Considering the little distance which separated him from his adversary, nothing apparently could save him. Happily the partisan, blinded by rage, had not calculated his fire; the ball, badly directed, instead of striking the Frenchman full in the body, only made a slight graze on the arm, and fell harmless.
"Your life belongs to me," coolly said the young man, cocking his pistol in his turn.
"Blow my brains out then,¡caray!" cried Don Pablo; "Fire, and let all be over!"
"No," replied the young painter, without emotion, "it is well for you to see the difference which exists between a man of your sort and of mine."
"Which means—?" murmured the partisan, when rage stifled.
"That I pardon you!" said Emile.
"Pardon, you say—pardon?" cried he, with the roar of a tiger, "To me!"
"To you,pardieu!To whom else?"
And coolly pushing away with his wounded arm the partisan, who had darted towards him, he raised his pistol, and discharged it over his head. Don Pablo remained an instant astounded, his eyes bloodshot, his features livid, his hands clinched, incapable of understanding the grandeur of this action, but conquered spite of himself, by the ascendancy that the young man had in an instant acquired over his rude and savage nature.
"Your life, then," quietly resumed the young man "belongs to me; I have given it you back. I only demand in return one thing."
"You demand something of me?" said he, with a mocking sneer.
"Yes."
"Oh! Oh! And if I should not choose to accord you anything?"
"Oh, then," pursued he, with the greatest coolness, "as everything must have an end, and as it is always allowable to rid one's self of a wild beast, I shall blow your brains out, as though you were a mad dog."
While speaking thus, Emile had taken his gun in his hand.
The partisan found himself again at the mercy of his adversary.
The former cast at him a look of hatred, but he could see by the countenance of his enemy that he would not hesitate to put his threat into execution. Then—thanks to that control which he had over himself—he brought back calmness to his features, which had been distorted by rage, and, bowing with a gracious smile—
"Be it so, I will do what you wish, Señor. Your noble generosity has conquered my obstinacy. Speak."
"Swear on your salvation, by Our Lady of Solitude, to be faithful to what you engage to do."
"I swear it, on my salvation, by Our Lady of Solitude."
This virgin, much venerated by the gauchos, the trappers, and other people of that kind, was—at least he thought so—the protectress of Don Pablo Pincheyra; he was very devoted towards her, and no consideration whatever would have induced him to violate an oath made in her name. Emile was aware of this circumstance.
"During three days from this time you will not take any steps against the two ladies confided to my care."
"I swear it."
At this moment a distant gallop was heard, and a troop of horsemen soon appeared at a considerable distance.
"Here are the persons whom you expect," pursued Emile; "I should like to be present at your interview with them."
"Very well, you shall be present at it Do you wish anything else?"
"Nothing."
"What, is that all?"
"Yes."
"You do not stipulate anything for your personal safety?"
"Nonsense," answered the young man, with disdain. "You are jesting, Seigneur; what have I to fear from you? You would not dare to attempt the life of his who, master of yours, has refused to take it."
The partisan stamped his foot with rage, but he did not answer.
The horsemen rapidly approached; a few minutes more, and they would have overtaken the two men who looked at them as they came on, without making any movement towards them.
The horsemen who advanced in the canyon, in the direction of Casa-Frama—as the headquarters of the Pincheyras was called—formed a troop of about thirty men. All were well armed and well mounted. Their costume had a military appearance, and, although riding at a hand gallop, they preserved their order, and rather resembled soldiers or partisans than peaceable travellers who had come to the Cordilleras on business.
Two horsemen, mounted on magnificent black animals, richly harnessed, preceded by a few paces the body of the troop, and were talking together with some animation. They had not yet perceived Don Pablo or the French painter, who, half hidden by the fragments of rock, observed them attentively.
"These are indeed the persons whom I expected," said he; "come let us go into the camp again."
"Why not receive them here where we are, since they must absolutely pass before us?"
"Better that they should not find us here; I ought to receive these persons with a certain decorum that their rank exacts."
"As you like; but it will be rather difficult to reenter the camp without being overtaken by them, especially at the pace they are coming."
"Do not be uneasy about that," pursued Don Pablo, smiling; "still follow me."
"Let us go," said the painter, repressing a movement of curiosity.
Indeed, it seemed impossible, from the place where they were, for the two men to regain the camp without being not only perceived, but overtaken in a few minutes by the travellers.
However, against all probability, it was nothing of the kind.
The partisan, after having scaled, followed by the painter, some blocks of rock, massed without apparent order one upon the other, found himself at the entrance of a natural cavern, of which so many exist in the mountains, and into which, after having removed the brambles and brushwood which masked the mouth of it, he boldly entered. The painter did not hesitate to follow him, curious to see this passage so skilfully concealed, and the existence of which, without any trouble, the partisan revealed to him—a passage which at some time or other might be of the greatest importance to the young man. The cavern was large, spacious, and airy; daylight penetrated it by imperceptible fissures, and produced a dim light sufficient to walk without fear and to wander in this labyrinth of galleries, which opened right and left, and were lost under the mountain at probably considerable distances, or perhaps had exits in several directions.
After a rapid walk of a few minutes, a dull and continuous sound, resembling a considerable fall of water, was heard, and became louder and louder. At last the two men emerged from the cavern and found themselves on a narrow platform, two or three yards broad at the most, masked completely by a sheet of water which fell from a great height two or three yards before the platform, and broke with a great sound upon a chaos of rocks twenty yards lower down, where it divided into two branches, forming a little farther off two distinct rivers.
"We have arrived," said the Pincheyra, turning towards his companion, to whom, till then, he had not addressed a word; "do you recognise this place?"
"Perfectly. It is just at the foot of this cascade that the camp is established; yourtoldois not more than a gunshot from it."
"You are quite right. You see that I have not deceived you."
"It is true; but how shall we descend into the valley? It appears to me that the road is scarcely practicable."
"You are mistaken; it is, on the contrary, most easy, as you shall see; only give me your word as a caballero not to reveal to anyone the secret that I confide to you. You understand, do you not, the importance to me, in case of attack, of having a way by which I could escape with my companions without striking a blow, and glide, so to say, like a serpent between the fingers of my enemies, when they would think me at their mercy?"
"I understand that perfectly, and I heartily take the oath you exact, especially as the confidence with which you have conducted me here is an unquestionable proof of the esteem you have for me."
Don Pablo bowed politely.
"Come," said he, "we will descend."
He then made a turn on the right, and gained the western extremity of the platform.
"See," said he.
The painter looked.
A ladder cut in the solid rock descended at a gentle declivity to a certain depth on the flanks of the mountain, and was lost in a thick cluster of forest trees.
"Chance, a long time ago," pursued Don Pablo, "revealed to me this passage at a time when I thought I should never have to make use of it. Now, it is very useful to me to enter and leave the camp without being seen; but we shall not remain long here. Come."
Don Pablo, with a confidence which would have been decided folly with any other man than the painter, then passed first, and began to descend without even turning his head to see if his companion followed him.
Nothing would have been more easy than to make this partisan lose his equilibrium by gently pushing him as if by chance, and so making him break his neck against the rocks. The thought did not even occur to the painter, notwithstanding the hatred which rankled in his heart against this man—a hatred revived by their recent quarrel. He followed his enemy in this hazardous descent, as unconcerned as if he had made a promenade of pleasure with an intimate friend.
It did not take them more than a few minutes to reach the base of the mountain, and place their foot in the valley.
"Here we are," said Don Pablo; "we ought to separate here; go to your affairs, and I will go to mine."
They were, in fact, in the middle of the camp, at few paces only from thetoldoof the chief.
"Are you not going to receive the strangers who are coming?" asked Emile.
"Yes, I am going to receive them, for they will be here in ten minutes or so; and, as I have told you, I wish to pay them a certain respect to which they have a right."
"It was arranged between us, I thought, that I should assist at this interview?"
"Certainly, and I will keep my promise, you may depend; but this interview will not take place till later—in two or three hours at least. I am only now about to fulfil towards the strangers the duties of hospitality. When they have rested, we will occupy ourselves with business. So, make your mind easy; when the time comes, I will take care to tell you that you may assist at the conference."
"I have your word, I will therefore make no further objection. God keep you, Seigneur Don Pablo."
"God keep you, Señor Don Emile," answered the partisan.
The two men bowed, and without further discussion they turned their backs, and each went his way: Don Pablo proceeding to the entrance of the camp, where, no doubt, his presence would soon be required; and the painter returning to histoldo, where he soon arrived A man, sitting on the threshold, appeared to be waiting his arrival.
This man was Tyro the Guaraní. At a few paces from him, crouched on the soil, two ragged individuals, but armed to the teeth, were playing atmonte. These persons were Mataseis is and Sacatripas, the two bullies engaged by the painter on his flight from San Miguel de Tucuman. Without disturbing themselves, they saluted their master as he passed, and continued the eager game they had commenced at sunrise, and which probably would last, unless important affairs called them off, until the end of the day.
At the sight of the Frenchman, Tyro quickly rose, raised the curtain of thetoldo, and, after his master had entered, followed him.
"What news?" asked Emile.
"Nothing important apparently," answered the Guaraní, "but much in reality."
"Ah!" said the young man, with a thoughtful air, "What has happened then?"
"Nothing, I repeat, my friend; however, I think you will do well to be on your guard."
"Eh! Am I not always so?"
"True, but an increase of precaution could do no harm."
"Then you have learned something?"
"I have learned nothing positive as yet; however, I have my suspicions; soon, I hope, I shall be able to inform you."
"Have you seen the ladies today?"
"Yes, my friend; this morning I had the honour to pay them a visit; they are sorrowful and resigned, as usual, and it is easy to see that their position becomes more painful to them every moment, and that their feigned resignation conceals a profound despondency."
"Alas!" murmured the young man, with sadness, "I am unhappily unable to be of service to them."
"Perhaps, my friend."
Emile quickly brightened up.
"You know something, do you not, my good Tyro?" cried he, with anxiety.
"I must say nothing yet, my friend; be patient You shall soon know all."
The young man sighed.
"I have seen Don Pablo," said he.
"Ah!" said the Guaraní, with curiosity.
"I shall assist at the interview."
"Good!" cried the Indian, joyfully rubbing his hands together; "So much the better, Don Pablo has not made any difficulties?"
"Hum! He only consented when the pistol was at his breast."
"No matter; the principal thing is that you will be present."
"You see that I have followed your counsel."
"Soon, my friend, you will yourself acknowledge the importance of it."
"God grant it! I confess that since I have been in this frightful den of Casa-Frama, I feel that I am losing all energy."
"Courage, my friend; perhaps you are nearer escaping from it than you suppose."
"You never speak except by enigmas."
"Excuse me; it is at present impossible for me to explain myself."
"Do as you like; I will not interfere in anything."
"Till the moment for action has arrived."
"But when this moment has come—?"
Tyro did not answer, occupied in preparing for his master's breakfast. Apparently absorbed by this grave occupation, he feigned not to hear these too significant words.
"Now it is ready, my friend," said he; "eat and drink, you must require refreshment. We never know what the future reserves for us, and it is well to be prepared for anything that may happen."
The painter looked at him a moment attentively.
"Come," said he, sitting on a stool before the table, "you are plotting something?"
The Guaraní burst out a laugh maliciously.
"Ah!" said he, after a pause, "You know, my friend, that the engagement of our two companions terminated yesterday."
"What companions, and what engagements?" answered the young man, with his mouth full.
"Why, that of Mataseis and his worthy acolyte Sacatripas."
"Good, but what have I to do with that? These fellows have been paid in advance; I do not owe them anything."
"Pardon, my friend; you owe them two months."
"How is that?"
"Because I have renewed their engagement for two months this very morning at the same price; for that matter it is not dear; the fellows have a certain value."
"What a strange idea to hamper us afresh with these wretches! Would it not have been better to have got rid of them, and to send them to get hanged somewhere else?"
"As to being hanged, make your mind easy; that will happen to them sooner or later. Meanwhile, I have thought it preferable to keep them in our service. Do you remember, my friend, that when we fight against bandits we should have some of the same stamp in our interests?"
"Arrange it as you like, that's your affair; for you do everything here according to your own notions. I Keep them or don't keep them—I wash my hands of it."
"You are merry, my friend?"
"No, I am sad; I have sometimes a temptation to put an end to it by blowing out the brains of that cursed Pincheyra, and then taking the same leap myself."
"Be careful not to give way to these temptations, my friend; not that I interest myself the least in the world in these Pincheyras, for I am reserving for Don Pablo and his brothers a dish of my own preparing, which they will find too highly spiced, I am convinced; but the moment has not yet come. Let us be patient, and, for a commencement, be present at the interview today, my friend; and open your ears, for if I do not much deceive myself, you will hear strange things."
"Yes, yes, I suppose that an interview with the colonel—for he has definitively taken this grade on his own authority—must be fertile in curious incidents."
"I wish to leave you the pleasure of the surprise, my friend. Are you going out?" added he, seeing his master proceeding towards the door.
"I intend to pay my respects to the ladies."
"You will not have time for it; moreover, you could not talk freely with them; the two sisters of Don Pablo are at present with them."
"These women appear to have received orders not to lose sight of these two unhappy ladies; they pass nearly the whole day with them."
"It is probable that they have received instructions of the kind."
The young man did not answer, but he knitted his eyebrows, stamped with rage, and began to walk to and fro.
Some minutes elapsed
"Parbleu!" cried he at last, "I am a perfect ass to fret thus about things which cannot affect me, and which I cannot prevent! It is evident, in fact, that as life is a continual game of seesaw, when I shall have; reached the last step of bad fortune, I must remount, and that, according to fate, my position will improve. Bah! I will trust to Providence. He is more skilful than me, and will know well, when it pleases Him, how to enable me to escape from my embarrassment! However, it appears to me that it is time for a change; I am horribly wearied here. Upon my word, it was a splendid idea to come into this new world to seek tranquillity and patriarchal manners! Mercy on us! What patriots these Pincheyras are! And how true and copied from nature are the narratives of travel!"
And he laughed heartily.
As what precedes had been said in French, and consequently the Indian had not understood a word, he looked at the young man with a wondering air, which redoubled the hilarity of the latter; so that the Guaraní asked himself if his master had not suddenly gone mad. But a new personage at the moment appeared in thetoldo, and by his presence calmed, as by enchantment, the gaiety of the Frenchman, and rendered him serious again.
This personage was no other than Don Santiago Pincheyra, one of the brothers of Don Pablo; he to whom the young man had rendered so great a service on the occasion of his skirmish with the squadron of Zeno Cabral.
Brutal and morose as was Don Santiago, he appeared to have preserved some gratitude to the painter for this service, and on several occasions he had manifested a slight interest in him. It was owing to his influence that the painter was treated with consideration in the camp of the partisans, and nearly free to act in his own way without being exposed to the gross annoyances of this undisciplined troop of bandits.
"I see with pleasure that you do not breed melancholy among you, Seigneurs Frenchmen," said he, holding out his hand. "So much the better! Grief would kill a cat, as we say."
"You see that I adapt myself to circumstances," answered Emile, pressing his hand. "To answer your proverb by another, I will say, things that can't be helped should be forgotten. What brings me the honour of your visit, dear Seigneur?"
"First, the desire of seeing you, and then, a message from my brother, Don Pablo Pincheyra."
"Believe me, that I feel as I ought this proof of courtesy, dear Seigneur," said the young man, bowing with politeness; "and this message that, through you, his Excellency Colonel Don Pablo Pincheyra does me the honour to send is important, no doubt?"
"You will decide that better than me, Señor; my brother requests your presence at the interview which is immediately to take place with some Spanish officers, who arrived about an hour ago at our headquarters."
"I am honoured by his Excellency deigning to think of me. I will present myself at the council when I shall have received the order to do so."
"This order I bring you, Seigneur Frenchman, and if you please to follow me I will accompany you to the place chosen for the interview, which is the council room in my brother'stoldo."
"Very well, Seigneur Don Santiago, I am ready to follow you."
"Then we will set out together; for they only wait for you."
The painter exchanged with the Guaraní a last look, to which the latter responded by one not less significant, and, without saying anything further, he left thetoldowith Don Santiago.
All was gossip at Casa-Frama; the unforeseen arrival of the strangers had awakened general curiosity; the streets were literally crammed with men, women, and children, who pressed towards thetoldoof the colonel.
The two men had much difficulty in threading a passage through the crowd of idlers who obstructed the public way; and had it not been for Don Santiago, known and respected by all, the Frenchman would probably not have succeeded in reaching the spot he wanted.
Although the abode of Don Pablo Pincheyra bore the name oftoldo, it was in reality a vast and airy house, built with the greatest possible care for the convenience of its owner. The walls were of clay, plastered and whitewashed carefully. Ten windows, with shutters painted green, and ornamented with climbing plants, which grew in various directions, gave it an air of gaiety which made it pleasant to look at. The door, preceded by a peristyle and a verandah, was in the centre of the building. Before this door a flagstaff was planted in the earth, surmounted by a Spanish flag. Two sentinels, armed with lances, were seated, one at the threshold of the door, the other at the foot of the flagstaff. A battery of six pieces of cannon was pointed a few paces in advance, half hidden at this moment by thirty horses, all harnessed, which champed their bits, and covered them with foam.