Last of the Incas: A Romance of the Pampas

"Back!" the jailer cried; "no one enters here without the password."

"There it is," said one of the newcomers, and he laid him stark dead with a pistol shot. The four men passed over his body and securely tied his companion, who had sought refuge in a corner, and was trembling all over. One of them then walked up to the prisoner, who comprehended nothing of this scene.

"You are free caballero!" he said to him. "Come, make haste to fly far from this house."

"Who are you?" the young man asked.

"No matter; follow us."

"No; unless I know who you are."

"Do you wish to see Doña Concha again?" the speaker whispered in his ear.

"I will follow you," Don Sylvio answered with a blush.

"Señor, take these weapons, which you will perhaps require, as all is not finished yet."

"Weapons!" the young man exclaimed. "Oh! You are friends."

They went out.

"What?" Don Sylvio said, as he entered the courtyard, "I am in Carmen."

"Were you not aware of it?"

"No."

"Those saddled horses fastened to the rings are ours. Can you sit a horse?"

"I hope so."

"You must."

"Mount, then, and let us be off."

As they turned into the street, a dozen horsemen dashed up toward them, at a distance of about five and twenty paces.

"Here is the enemy," the stranger said in a firm voice; "take your bridle in your teeth, and let us charge."

The four men ranged themselves in a single line, and rushed at the newcomers. They discharged firearms and drew their sabres.

"Caray!" Pincheira, who commanded the twelve horseman, shouted, "My prisoner is escaping from me."

The Chilian officer darted in pursuit of Don Sylvio, who fired two shots at him without relaxing his speed. Pinchiera's horse rolled on the ground, dragging down its rider, who got up again, greatly shaken by his fall; but Don Sylvio and his comrades were already far away.

"Oh, I shall find them again!" he shouted, mad with rage.

The fugitives had reached the river's bank, where a boat was waiting for them.

"We shall separate here, señor," the stranger said to Don Sylvio, as he removed his mask.

"Pedrito!" he exclaimed.

"Myself!" the bombero answered. "This boat will take you to the Estancia of San Julian. Start without delay, and," he added, as he stooped down to Don Sylvio's ear, and handed him a folded paper, "read this, and, perhaps, you will soon be able to come to our assistance. Good-bye, señor."

"One word, Pedrito. Who is the man that held me prisoner?"

"Don Torribio Carvajal."

"Thank you."

"Or, if you prefer it, Nocobotha, the great Chief of the Aucas."

"Which of the two?"

"They are the same."

"I will remember," Don Sylvio said, as he leaped into the boat.

The skiff glided over the water with the speed of an arrow, owing to the vigour of the rowers, and soon disappeared in the gathering darkness.

Three persons who remained on the bank looked anxiously after the movements of the boat. They were Pedrito, Mercedes, and Doña Concha.

CHAPTER XX.

THE INDIAN CAMP

"And now, señorita," Pedrito asked Doña Concha when the boat was out of sight, "What are your intentions?"

"To see Nocobotha in his camp."

"It is dishonour; it is death."

"No, Don Pedro, it is revenge."

"You mean it?"

"I am resolved."

"Good, I will myself lead you to the camp of the Aucas."

All three returned to Don Valentine Cardoso's house without exchanging a word. Night had completely set in; the streets were deserted, the silent town was illumined by the flames of Población del Sur, and the diabolical outlines of the Indians could be seen passing among the ruins and crumbling walls.

"Go and get ready, señoritas; I will wait for you here," Pedrito said with a melancholy accent.

Mercedes and Doña Concha entered the house. Pedrito, thoughtful and sad, sat down on one of the steps in front of the houses. The two girls soon re-appeared, dressed in full Aucas' costume, with painted faces, and impossible to recognize.

"Oh!" said the bombero, "Here are two real Indian girls."

"Do you believe," Doña Concha asked him, "that Don Torribio alone possesses the privilege of changing himself at his pleasure."

"Who can contend with a woman?" Pedrito said, shaking his head; "And now, what do you demand of me?"

"Your protection to the first Indian lines."

"And afterwards?"

"The rest is our business."

"But you do not intend to remain alone in the midst of the Pagans?"

"We must, Don Pedro."

"Mercedes," the latter continued, "do you wish to fall again into the hands of your persecutors?

"Reassure yourself, brother; I run no risk."

"Still – "

"I answer for her," Doña Concha interrupted him.

"Well, Heaven be merciful to you!" he muttered, with an air of doubt.

"Let us start," said Don Sylvio's affianced wife, as she wrapped herself up in a spacious cloak. Pedrito walked before them. The dying fires of Carmen lit up the night with a pale and uncertain gleam; a leaden silence brooded over the town, only interrupted at intervals by the hoarse croaking of the birds of prey that were tearing the Spanish and Indian corpses. The three persons walked through the ruins, stumbling against tottering walls, striding over bodies, and disturbing the horrible festival of the urubús and vultures which fled away with heavy wings. They went through nearly the entire length of the town, and at length arrived, after a thousand windings and difficulties, at one of the barriers that faced the Indian camp, whose numerous fires could be seen sparkling a short distance off, and from which fearful yells reached their ears.

The bombero exchanged a few words with the sentries, and passed through the barricade, followed by the two girls. Then he stopped.

"Doña Concha," he said, in a choking voice, "there is the Indian camp before us."

"I thank you, Don Pedro," she answered, offering him her hand.

"Señorita," Pedrito added, retaining the young lady's hand, "there is still time; give up your fatal plan, since your betrothed is saved, and return to San Julian."

"Good-bye," Doña Concha answered resolutely.

"Good-bye," the worthy man repeated sorrowfully. "Mercedes, I implore you to remain with me."

"Where she goes, I will go, brother."

The leave-taking was short, as may be supposed, and the bombero, so soon as he was alone, uttered a sigh, or rather a burst of sorrow, and returned to Carmen at a sharp pace.

"I trust I may not arrive too late," he said to himself, "and that he has not yet seen Don Antonio Valverde."

He reached the fort at the moment when Don Torribio and the governor were crossing the drawbridge, but absorbed in his own thoughts, he did not perceive the two horsemen. This accident was the cause of an irreparable misfortune.

As for the two girls, they proceeded haphazard toward the camp fires, a short distance from which they halted to regain breath and calm the movement of their hearts, which beat as if ready to start from their breasts. When near the danger they voluntarily sought, they felt their courage abandon them; the sight of the Indian toldos made their blood run cold with terror. Strange to say, it was Mercedes who revived her companion's firmness.

"Señorita," she said to her, "I will be your guide; we will leave these cloaks here, which would cause us to be recognized as white persons. Walk by my side, and whatever may happen, display neither surprise nor fear, and before all say not a word, or it will be all over with us."

"I will obey," Concha answered.

"We are," Mercedes exclaimed, "two Indian girls who have made a vow to Gualichu for the recovery of their wounded father. Remember, not a word, my friend!"

"Let us go on, and may Heaven protect us."

"So be it!" Mercedes replied, crossing herself. They set out again, and within five minutes entered the camp, where the Indians were giving way to the most extravagant joy. Nothing could be heard on all sides but songs and yells. Drunk with aguardiente, they danced in a burlesque fashion among empty barrels, which they had plundered from Población del Sur and the estancias. There was a wondrous disorder and a strange confusion, and all these raving madmen even ignored the authority of their Ulmens, the majority of whom, however, were in a state of the most disgusting intoxication.

Owing to the general uproar, Concha and Mercedes were enabled to cross the camp lines unseen; then, with palpitating hearts, limbs rigid with terror, but calm faces, they glided like lizards through the groups, passing unperceived by the drunken men, who stumbled against each other at every moment. The girls seemed lost in this human labyrinth, wandering haphazard, and trusting to Providence or their lucky stars to discover the abode of the great Toqui in this confused mass of toldos. They walked about for a long time, but rendered bolder by their success in avoiding any unpleasant encounter, and feeling less timid, they exchanged at times a hoping glance, till all at once an Indian of athletic build seized Doña Concha round the waist, lifted her from the ground like a child, and imprinted a hearty kiss on her neck.

At this unexpected outrage, Concha uttered a cry of terror, disengaged herself from the Indian's grasp, and forcibly thrust him away from her. The savage tottered on his drunken legs, and measured his length of six feet on the ground; but he sprang up again at once and leapt on the maiden like a jaguar.

Mercedes interposed between them.

"Back," she said, courageously, laying her hand on the Indian's chest, "this woman is my sister."

"Churlakin," another chief said, "do not put up with an insult."

The savage frowned and drew his knife.

"Do you wish to kill her?" Mercedes exclaimed in horror.

"Yes," Churlakin answered, "unless she will follow me to my toldo, where she will be the squaw of a chief – a great chief."

"You are mad," Mercedes retorted, "your toldo is full, and there is no room for another fire." "There is still room for two fires," the Indian answered, with a laugh, "and since this woman is your sister, you shall come with her."

In the course of this discussion an impenetrable circle of savages surrounded the two girls and Churlakin. Mercedes did not know how to escape the danger.

"Well," Churlakin continued, seizing Doña Concha's hair, which he rolled round his wrist, and brandishing his knife, "will you and your sister follow me to my toldo?"

Doña Concha, who had sunk down to the ground, awaited the death-stroke with pallid face and closed eyes. Mercedes drew herself and checked the arm that was ready to strike.

"Since you insist on it, dog," she said to the chief, in a haughty voice, "your destiny shall be accomplished. Look at me. Gualichu does not allow his slaves to be insulted with impunity. Look at me!"

She turned her face towards a huge fire, flashing a few yards off, and which threw a bright light over the surrounding objects. The Indians uttered a cry of surprise on recognizing her, and fell back. Churlakin himself let go of Doña Concha's hair.

"Oh!" he said, in consternation, "It is the white slave of the tree of Gualichu."

The circle round the two girls had grown larger; but the superstitious Indians, nailed to the ground by terror, looked at them fixedly.

"The power of Gualichu," Mercedes added, to complete her triumph, "is great and terrible. It is he who sends me; woe to the man who would try to thwart his designs; back, all of you."

And seizing the arm of Doña Concha, who was still trembling with emotion, she advanced with a firm step. Waving her arm authoritatively, the circle divided, and the Indians fell back to the right and left, making way for them to pass.

"I feel as if I was dying," Doña Concha murmured.

"Courage, señorita, we are saved."

"Oh, oh!" a mocking voice said, "what is going on here?"

And a man placed himself in front of the girls, and looked impudently at them.

"The matchi!" the Indians said, who, being reassured by the presence of their sorcerer, again assembled round the prisoners.

Mercedes trembled inwardly on seeing her stratagem compromised by the advent of the matchi, and at the suggestion of despair, she made a final effort.

"Gualichu, who loves the Indians," she said, "has sent me to the matchi of the Aucas."

"Ah!" the sorcerer answered, in a mocking accent, "And what does he want with me?"

"No one but yourself must hear it."

The matchi walked up to the maiden, laid his hand on her shoulder, and looked at her with a longing air.

"Will you save me?" she asked him in a low voice.

"That depends," the fellow answered, his eye sparkling with desire, "it is in your own hands." She repressed a look of disgust.

"Stay," she said, as she removed from her arms her rich gold bracelets, set with fine pearls.

"Och!" said the Indian, as he concealed them in his bosom, "That is fine; what does my daughter want?"

"Deliver us first from these men."

"Fly!" the matchi shouted, turning to the spectators; "This woman is under an evil spell; Gualichu is irritated. Fly!"

The sorcerer had immediately put on a face adapted to the circumstances; his mysterious conversation with the white woman and the terror depicted on his features were sufficient for the Indians, who, without stopping to ask any questions dispersed in all directions, and disappeared behind the toldos.

"You see," the sorcerer said, with a smile of pride, "I am powerful, and can avenge myself on those who deceive me. But where does my white daughter come from?"

"From the tree of Gualichu," she answered boldly.

"My daughter has the forked tongue of the cougar," the matchi replied, who believed neither in his own words nor in his god; "does she take me for a ñandu?"

"Here is a magnificent collar of pearls which Gualichu gave me for the inspired man of the Aucas."

"Oh," said the sorcerer, "what service can I render my daughter?"

"Lead us to the toldo of the great chief of the Patagonian nations."

"Does my daughter desire to speak with Nocobotha?"

"I do."

"Nocobotha is a wise chief; will he receive a woman?"

"He must."

"It is well. But this other woman?" he asked, pointing to Doña Concha.

"She is a friend of Pincheira's; she also wishes to speak with the great Toqui."

"The warriors will spin llama wool," the sorcerer said, shaking his head, "since women wage war and sit at the council fire."

"My father is mistaken; Nocobotha loves his sister."

"No," the Indian said.

"Will my father make haste? Nocobotha is waiting for us," Mercedes continued, impatient at the savage's tergiversation; "where is the toldo of the great chief?"

"Follow me, my white daughters."

He placed himself between them, seized an arm of each, and guided them through the inextricable labyrinth of the camp. The terrified Indians fled as they passed. In his heart the matchi was satisfied with Mercedes' presents, and the opportunity for proving to the warriors his intimate relations with Gualichu. The marching and counter-marching lasted a quarter of an hour, and at last they found themselves before a toldo, in front of which was planted the token of the united nations, surrounded by lances fringed with scarlet, and guarded by four warriors.

"It is here," he said to Mercedes.

"Good! My father will let us go in alone."

"Must I leave you, then?"

"Yes, but my father can wait for us outside."

"I will wait," the sorcerer said briefly, as he looked suspiciously at the maidens.

They went in with sorely beating hearts. The toldo was empty.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE TOLDO OF THE GREAT TOQUI

Don Antonio Valverde, delighted at the succour the president of the Argentine Republic sent him, rode at a gallop by the side of the new colonel, Don Torribio. They soon reached a barrier, guarded by a large body of gauchos and armed colonists.

"We must go out here," Don Torribio said to the governor, "but, as the night is dark, and we have one or two leagues to ride, it would be imprudent to venture alone upon a plain traversed by vagabond Indians."

"That is true," Don Antonio interrupted him.

"The governor must not risk his life lightly; suppose you were made prisoner, for instance, what a blow it would be for the colony."

"You speak most sensibly, Don Torribio."

"Let us take an escort."

"Of how many men?"

"Ten will be enough."

"We will take twenty, for we may come across a hundred Indians."

"Twenty, then, if you wish it, Don Antonio," the other answered with a sardonic smile.

On the governor's arrival the defenders of the fort had got under arms. Don Torribio detailed twenty horsemen, who, by his orders formed up behind him.

"Are we ready to start, governor?"

"Let us be off."

The escort, having the two colonels at its head, started in the direction of the plain, Torribio delighted Don Antonio Valverde for three quarters of an hour by the rolling fire of his witty remarks, when he was interrupted by him.

"Pardon me, colonel," the governor said anxiously, "but does it not appear singular to you that we have as yet met nobody?"

"Not the least in the world, señor," Torribio answered; "of course they know what road to take, and they are awaiting my return."

"That is possible," the governor said, after a moment's reflection.

"In that case we shall have another league to ride. Let us go on, then."

Don Torribio's vein of humour was exhausted. At times his eye examined the space around him, while Don Antonio remained silent. All at once the distant neighing of a horse reached their ears.

"What's that?" Torribio asked.

"Probably the men we are seeking."

"In any case let us be prudent. Wait for me; I will go ahead as scout."

He galloped forward and disappeared in the gloom. When a certain distance off, he dismounted and put his ears to the ground.

"¡Demonios!" he muttered, as he got up and leapt on to his horse again; "we are pursued. Can that Satan of a Pedrito have recognized me?"

"What's the matter?" the governor asked. "Nothing," Torribio replied, laying his left hand on his arm. "Don Antonio Valverde, surrender; you are my prisoner."

"Are you mad, Don Torribio?"

"No longer call me Don Torribio, señor," the young man said in a hollow voice; "I am Nocobotha, the great chief of the Patagonian natives."

"Treachery!" the governor shouted; "Help, gauchos, defend me!"

"It is useless, colonel, for those men belong to me."

"I will not surrender," the governor continued "Don Torribio, or whoever you may be, you are a coward."

He freed himself from the young man's grasp by a bound of his horse, and drew his sabre. The rapid gallop of several horses came nearer every moment.

"Can that be help arriving for me?" the governor said, as he cocked a pistol.

"Yes, but too late," the Indian chief answered coldly.

By his orders, the gauchos surrounded the commandant, who killed two of them. From this moment the fight in the dark became frightful. Don Antonio, seeing that his life was lost, wished, at least, to die as a soldier should die, and fought desperately.

The sound of the galloping horses constantly drew nearer.

Nocobotha saw that it was time to finish, and with a pistol shot killed the governor's horse. Don Antonio rolled on the sand, but, jumping up suddenly, he dealt his adversary a sabre stroke, which the latter parried by leaping on one side.

"A man such as I am does not surrender to dogs like you," Don Antonio exclaimed, as he blew out his own brains.

This explosion was followed by a sharp discharge of musketry, and a squadron of horsemen rushed like a whirlwind on the gauchos. The contest hardly lasted a moment. At a whistle from Nocobotha the gauchos turned round and fled separately over the dark plain. Eight corpses strewed the ground.

"Too late!" Pedrito said to Major Bloomfield, who had started in pursuit of Don Torribio so soon as the bombero warned him of the peril into which the Indian had led the governor.

"Yes," said the major, sorrowfully, "he was a good soldier; but how are we to catch the traitors up, and know what we have to depend on?"

"They are already in the Indian camp."

Pedrito leapt from his horse, cut with his machete a branch of resinous fir, which he made into a torch, and by its light examined the bodies stretched on the ground.

"Here he is!" the bombero exclaimed; "His skull is fearfully fractured; his hand grasps a pistol; but his face still retains an expression of haughty defiance."

A silent tear rolled down Major Bloomfield's bronzed face.

"Why was my old friend fated thus to die in an ambuscade when his fortress is besieged?" the Englishman murmured.

"God is the Master," Pedrito remarked, philosophically.

"He has performed his duty, so let us perform ours."

They raised the body of Don Antonio Valverde, and then the whole squadron returned to Carmen.

Nocobotha, however, we must remark, had only wished to make the colonel prisoner in order to treat with the colonists, and shed as little blood as possible, and he bitterly regretted the governor's death. While the gauchos were rejoicing at the success of the trap, Nocobotha, gloomy and dissatisfied, returned to his camp.

Mercedes and Doña Concha, on seeing the toldo of the great chief unoccupied, could not repress a sigh of satisfaction. They had the time to recover from their emotion in his absence, and prepare for the interview which Concha desired to have with him. They had removed their Indian garb in all haste, and resumed their Spanish attire. By an accident that favoured the plans of Don Sylvio's betrothed wife, she was lovelier and more seductive than usual; her pallor had a touching and irresistible grace about it, and her eyes flashed eager flames of love or hatred.

When Nocobotha arrived in front of the toldo, the matchi walked up to him.

"What do you want?" the chief asked.

"My father will pardon me," the sorcerer answered, humbly. "This night two women have entered the camp."

"What do I care?" the chief interrupted him, impatiently.

"These women, though dressed in the Indian fashion, are white," the matchi said, laying a stress on the last word.

"They are doubtless wives of the gauchos."

"No," the sorcerer said; "their hands are too white, and their feet too small. Besides, one of them is the white slave of the tree of Gualichu."

"Ah! and who made them prisoners?"

"No one; they arrived alone."

"Alone?"

"I accompanied them through the camp, and protected them against the curiosity of the warriors."

"You acted well."

"I introduced them into my father's toldo."

"Are they there now?"

"For the last hour."

"I thank my brother."

Nocobotha took off one of his bracelets, and threw it to the matchi, who bowed down to the ground.

The chief, suffering from indescribable agitation, rushed toward his toldo, the curtain of which he raised with a feverish hand, and he could not restrain a cry of delight and astonishment on hearing Doña Concha's voice.

The maiden greeted him with one of those strange and charming smiles of which women alone possess the secret.

"What is the meaning of this?" the chief asked, with a graceful bow.

Doña Concha involuntarily admired the young man; his splendid Indian costume flashing in the light, heightened his masculine and proud attitude, and his head was haughtily erect. He was very handsome, and born to command.

"By what name shall I address you, caballero?" she said to him, as she pointed to a seat of carved copal wood by her side.

"That depends, señorita. If you address the Spaniard, call me Don Torribio; if you have come to speak to the Indian, my brothers call me Nocobotha."

"We shall see," she said.

During a momentary silence, the two speakers examined each other aside. Doña Concha did not know how to begin, and the chief himself was seeking the motive for such a visit.

"Did you really wish to see me?" Nocobotha at length began.

"Who else?" she replied.

"The happiness of seeing you here appears to me a dream, and I fear lest I should awake from it."

This remark reminded her of Don Valentine Cardoso's guest, and did not agree with the ornaments of an Indian chief and the interior of a toldo.