The Flying Horseman

The young girl, wounded by this coolness, felt her pride revolt. As she concealed from him the feelings which agitated her, and studied the counsels of Arnal more, perhaps, than he expected, she sustained the conversation commenced between her and Gueyma with that power of coquetry which, while it is the despair of men, renders women so powerful, and she soon so piqued the young man with her incessant shafts, that he was constrained to confess himself vanquished.

On a sign from Arnal, Dove's Eye went to an enramada, or cabin of boughs, constructed for her, where she remained free to give herself up to her thoughts. The two warriors remained alone by the fire.

After having assured themselves that no one was watching them, and that all the Indians, enveloped in their blankets, were sleeping round the fires, the Cougar and Arnal began to converse in a low voice in the Spanish language.

Their conversation was long; the stars began to pale when they at last sought repose, which they did not do, however, without having visited the sentinels to see if they were watching over the common safety.

At sunrise the camp was raised, and the Guaycurus resumed their march.

Arnal, with joy, found that the direction followed by the young chief was that of the plains of Tucumán. Each step thus brought the Guaycurus nearer their hunting grounds.

The warriors appeared also to know that they were retracing their steps, and that they were at last leaving that Spanish territory, in which, during their struggle, they had so much suffered. Notwithstanding the impassibility which the Indians believe it a duty never to abandon, their features, unknown to themselves, had an expression of ill-concealed joy.

However, the Indians were too prudent to forget that they were in an enemy's country, and to neglect the precautions necessary to avoid a surprise.

Gueyma proceeded at the head of his warriors, in company with the Cougar, with whom he conversed, while Arnal and Dove's Eye remained in the rearguard.

On the evening or the second day, at the moment when Gueyma and the Cougar prepared to give the order to camp for the night, a horseman, galloping at full speed, turned an angle of the path followed by the Indians, and came towards them, waving above his head, as a sign of peace, a poncho that he held in his hand.

Soon another horseman appeared in the rear of his companion; then another, and another – amounting to six.

The unknown travellers appeared to be in a pacific humour, their carbines being slung over their shoulders.

With a gesture, Gueyma ordered his people to stop; then, after having exchanged a few words in a low voice with the Cougar, he gave his arms to the Agonti, who was standing aside, and advanced at a trot towards the horseman.

When the two men met, they examined each other, and discovered at a glance that both were Indians.

The two warriors bowed, each bending his head till it nearly touched the neck of the horse; then, after a short pause, Gueyma, seeing that the stranger wished that he should commence the conversation, said —

"My brother travels amidst the mountains in a bad season; the further he proceeds, the worse will the roads be."

"I do not wish to penetrate further into the mountains," answered the stranger; "I wish to get away."

"Then," said Gueyma, "my brother has lost his way."

"I know it," said the stranger, laconically.

"I do not understand my brother," said Gueyma.

"My companions and I have since the morning taken cognisance of the troop of my brother that we precede on the same path. On perceiving that my brothers made preparations for encamping, we held counsel, and I have been charged to retrace my steps, in order to consult with the chief of the cavaliers by whom we have been followed."

"Epoï!" (good!), resumed Gueyma, smiling; "The eye of my brother is straightforward, his tongue is not double, his heart must be loyal. I am the chief of the Guaycurus warriors, who are behind me. Let my brother explain: the ears of Gueyma are open. My brother may speak freely and without restraint."

As the two Indians perceived they were of different tribes, they had begun the conversation in Spanish – a mixed language that both could understand.

"Those who follow me," said the stranger, "are not sons of our territory, they are palefaces whose hunting grounds are very far from here, in the country where the sun hides himself, down there, behind the great Salt Lake.

"I am their guide in these regions which they explore and which they do not know. They come openly to ask aid and protection of my brother, claiming the rights of Indian hospitality, till they consider all danger past."

"Whoever may be the men who accompany my brother, to whatever tribe they may belong – even if they should be the most implacable enemies of my tribe – they have a right to my protection and my kindness. The rights of hospitality are sacred. Let my brother tell his companions that I do not wish to know anything about them; they are travellers – that is all – follow on. Here is my haak," said he, drawing a knife from his girdle, and handing it to the stranger; "if I betray my promise, my brother will bury it in my heart before all my assembled people. My brother and his companions will sleep this evening with the Guaycurus warriors."

The two warriors bowed, and then, reining back their horses, each returned at a gallop towards his people.

CHAPTER VIII

THE GUIDE

Meanwhile, as we have seen in a preceding chapter, after the council held in the Valle del Tambo, Tyro had charged himself with the guidance of the little caravan, composed of two ladies, the French painter, the two gauchos, and himself.

As Tyro had foreseen, the travellers did not meet on this route any other obstacles than the material difficulties of the road – obstacles that by courage and perseverance they succeeded in overcoming.

The Guarani, as a warrior, thoroughly habituated to traverse an enemy's country, watched with extreme solicitude over the safety of those who had so frankly trusted to him, roaming continually round the caravan – in advance, in the rear, and on either side.

Every evening he camped in a position studied with care – a position which placed them, during their sleep, out of the range of a surprise.

The high peaks of the Cordilleras began by degrees to lower before the travellers. They had left the cold regions, and now found themselves in a temperate climate; the air became milder, the sun warmer, the atmosphere less sharp to breathe; the trees assumed less harsh tints, their branches were more leafy, and the birds appeared more numerous, and in brighter colours.

And the two ladies felt hope by degrees returning to their hearts, broken by suffering; and dimly saw, through a not distant future, the end of their misfortunes.

Some days had passed since their departure from the Valle del Tambo, when they found themselves almost in a civilised country, and although they had to redouble their prudence to escape the numerous bands of patriots which traversed the country in every direction, nevertheless, the prospect of soon getting away from these desolate mountains, in the midst of which they had so long wandered, rendered them joyous, and made them not only forget all they had suffered, but induced them to look at everything in a favourable light. For once, they were pursuing their journey gaily.

Tyro alone, who had taken on himself the responsibility of the general safety, did not give himself up to any foolish hope.

He knew, subtle Indian that he was, that the Montoneros, and other rovers on the highway or great plains, had the habit of hiding in the gorges of the mountains, to watch for the passing of travellers or caravans, and to dart on their prey, and carry it away, at the very moment when all danger seemed to have passed.

Tyro, deeply pondering on this circumstance – quite the reverse of his companions, whose features brightened more and more – became more and more gloomy, for he felt that each step that he made brought him nearer to a danger so much the more terrible, that it was, unless by a miracle from the Almighty, nearly inevitable.

On the day of which we speak, when, the camp was raised, and everyone ready to start, the Indian took the painter aside, and gave him all the information necessary to follow the path which opened into the defile, and turned round these abrupt flanks.

"Why so many details?" asked Emile; "Since you are with us, you will know how to guide us, I suppose."

"No, my friend, I shall not be with you," answered Tyro; "that is why I give you this information."

"What! You will not be with us!" cried the young man in surprise; "Where are you going then?"

"I shall be in the advance guard, my friend, in order to reconnoitre the country we must pass through."

"You are mad, my good Tyro; you know very well, and you have frequently told me so, that we have now nothing to fear. We are far from the Valle del Tambo, and the haunts of the Pincheyras. What is the use, then, of this superfluity of precaution?"

"My friend, although I, like yourself," coldly answered the Guarani, "am convinced that we are not threatened with any of the catastrophes which so long have been suspended over us, nevertheless, it would be terrible for us to fail at the very moment when we think we are safe; and as, in this matter, it is my honour which is at stake, let me, I beg, act in my own way."

"Be it so," said the young man; "do as you like, run, look, watch; I give you full liberty of action. We have with us two ladies whom I have sworn to save, and I have no right to be imprudent. Go, but do not be too long."

"As short a time as possible," answered he, bowing.

And putting his horse into a gallop, he darted forward, leaving the travellers to continue their journey.

"What has Tyro been doing to you, and why does he leave us thus?" asked the marchioness.

"He has been telling me, Madame," he answered, bowing to her, "the route we ought to take, and he has set off in advance as our trusty pioneer."

"Always devoted," replied the marchioness, smiling, "always faithful."

"Like his master," added, in a low voice, Doña Eva.

Several hours passed, and about eleven in the morning the travellers stopped under the shade of a clump of trees, so as to let the hottest part of the day pass.

Tyro had not reappeared; never since the commencement of the expedition had he made so long an absence. The painter felt uneasy, and several times had risen, and, with an anxious look, had examined the desolate route which stretched before him, till it was lost to sight. At last, about three in the afternoon, the young man gave the signal for starting.

They resumed their journey; only this time, instead of keeping near the ladies, Emile spurred his horse and dashed ahead.

The clump of trees under which the travellers had found a protecting shade had long disappeared in the distant bluish horizon, and the sun had begun sensibly to decline, when the painter perceived a horseman galloping towards him.

In this horseman the young man immediately recognised his guide.

Giving way, immediately, to the impatience which had so long tormented him, the painter put his horse into a gallop and soon rejoined him.

"Well," he asked, "what news?"

"Many things, my friend," resumed the Indian.

"I understand, pardieu!" cried he; "Only I wish to know whether these things are good or bad."

"That depends on how you judge them, my friend; for my part, I think them good."

"Let us have them, then."

"With all my heart; but perhaps it would be better, instead of remaining stationary in the middle of the route, if we continued our journey. I should like that at first you alone should hear what I have to tell you."

"You are right, my friend; let us push on then, and as we proceed you shall tell me what you have done," said the young man. "Now, speak," added he.

Tyro, by habit rather than from prudence, looked carefully round him.

"What I have to report is not much," he said, "but I think it very important for you."

"Go on!" answered the young man with impatience.

"Briefly, it is this. We are approaching the plains. The more we advance in this direction, the greater is the risk of finding enemies before us. We must, therefore, be continually on our guard against the traps that may be set for us. I do not know Why, but this morning, I felt myself seized with secret anxiety, without apparent cause."

"It is the same with me," interrupted the young man, who became suddenly sad; "I do not know what is passing within me, but I have the presentiment of a misfortune, or at least of an important event. Is it for good? Is it for evil? That is what I cannot say."

"I incline to the former opinion, my friend, and for this reason: this morning, after having for some minutes talked with you, I left you to go in search of news, as you know."

The painter nodded, and the Guarani continued:

"I followed the path for a long time without seeing anything suspicious; I was even preparing to retrace my steps to rejoin and reassure you; but I did not like to do so without taking a last precaution. I alighted, and with my ear to the ground, I listened. I then heard a distant sound, indistinct, but resembling that produced by a numerous troop of horsemen. I remounted and started ahead. A quarter of an hour afterwards all my doubts were removed; I was right; at about two gun shots before me I saw, coming at a moderate pace, the advance guard of this troop."

"The advance guard!" cried Emile; "They are soldiers then." "Partisans; but listen attentively, my friend; for now the question becomes more interesting."

"Speak! Speak!"

"You have heard, have you not," he resumed, "that the Portuguese have taken as auxiliaries several Indian tribes."

"Just so; but what has this to do with the matter?"

"Wait, wait, my friend. The troop that I have met is composed of warriors of these tribes – the most warlike of all, perhaps, the Guaycurus."

"What do you infer from this?"

"A very simple thing; according to the route that they travel, these warriors are proceeding towards Brazil."

"Brazil!" cried the young man.

"Yes, Brazil, the country that we wish to reach."

"What can we do in the matter, my poor friend?"

"It only depends on yourself, my friend; here is what is to be done!"

"Let us have it then," answered the young man.

The Indian did not remark, or feigned not to remark, the tone in which this was said, and continued coldly:

"These Guaycurus warriors form a troop of at least two hundred men, enemies of the Spaniards. Either they will try to glide unperceived in the midst of the Montoneros who skirt the plains, or, if they cannot escape thus, they will open a passage at the point of their lances."

"Well!" said the young man, becoming attentive.

"Well, my friend, in joining them we shall follow their fortunes."

"But you forget one thing, my poor friend, and a very important thing."

"What is it, mi amo?"

"This; we cannot thus join ourselves to this troop; if we are sufficiently foolish to discover ourselves to it we shall be immediately taken prisoners."

"Is it that only which embarrasses you, my friend?"

"My faith, yes," laughingly replied the young man.

"Then, my friend, be easy; I charge myself with causing you to be received by this troop in a manner not only flattering, but also advantageous to you. I know Indian customs."

"Very good, my friend; continue."

"I will claim the rights of Indian hospitality. You need have no dread of treachery; they would die themselves to defend you."

"Hum! Do you know, that this is very tempting that you thus propose to me, my friend?"

"Accept it, then!"

"I do not demand anything better; but I ought to consult the ladies."

"Well, my friend, consult them, then; but quickly, if possible, for time presses."

"It shall not be long," responded the young man, and, turning bridle with that promptness which formed the basis of his character, he rejoined at a gallop the ladies, who were not a great distance in arrear.

They listened with serious attention to the communication of the young man; the project of Tyro appeared to them simple, and sure of success. Consequently, they agreed to it promptly.

The Guarani prepared himself speedily to put it into execution.

We have reported in full his interview with Gueyma, at the conclusion of which he returned to his companions, who awaited his return with impatience, not unmixed with anxiety; but all inquietude ceased when they learned the noble and frank response of the chief.

Emile, followed by the two ladies, then advanced towards the Guaycurus, who had halted to receive their visitors, and warmly thanked Gueyma for the protection which he had consented to accord to him and his companions.

The Indian chief replied with majestic dignity, that, in acting as he had done, he fulfilled a duty prescribed by honour; that thanks were superfluous; and that while the strangers remained with the warriors they would be considered as cherished brothers, and as children of the nation.

The Cougar remained a passive spectator of this scene, with which he had not interfered in any way; when the strangers had retired, he leaned towards the ear of Gueyma:

"Have you well considered these gentlemen?" he demanded.

"Yes," responded the chief; "why do you ask me the question?"

"Because two of them are women."

"Well, what of that?"

"More than you suppose," he said, and strode away, ending brusquely the interview, to escape the questions to which he did not care to: reply.

CHAPTER IX

THE CAMP

Zeno Cabral, after his interview with the young painter, departed at gallop from the Valle del Tambo, followed naturally by the Spanish officers, who had no plausible motives for remaining with Don Pablo Pincheyra.

The Montonero galloped thus during about four hours, incessantly exciting his horse, the speed of which seemed almost a miracle, until arrived at a crossroad, where the route branched into two paths. Here he stopped, and leaning towards his two companions, who had followed him at almost as great a pace:

"Caballeros," said he, ceremoniously saluting them, "I beg you to accept all my thanks for the loyal manner in which you have kept the word you have given me; but here is your road," said he, pointing to the path on the left, "and this is mine," added he, indicating that to the right. "Let us separate now; I wish you a good journey."

"I thank you, monsieur," responded the count courteously; "only, Will you permit me to ask you a question?"

"Speak."

"It is not a question that I would ask you; it is a prayer that I desire to make."

"Prayer or question, speak, monsieur; I will answer you."

"Sir, my companion and I are Spaniards, from Europe – that is to say, strangers to this country. If you leave us here, we shall inevitably be lost, ignorant as we are of the route that we ought to follow."

"When do you wish to go?"

"Mon Dieu, señor! That is just what troubles us," said the captain, joining in the conversation.

"Just so; then you desire – "

"Mon Dieu! We desire to reach its advanced posts, and that as soon as possible."

The Montonero reflected for some time.

"Gentlemen," he at last answered, "what you wish is very difficult; it is evident that you will have great trouble in passing through our troops. I only see one way of getting you out of the difficulty, but I fear that you would not accept it."

"What way is this?" cried the two Spaniards.

"This is it – to follow me where I go; only I exact your word of honour, as soldiers and gentlemen, that you will be dumb as to what you may see and hear. On this condition I engage to enable you to reach, with very little delay, the advanced posts of your army. Do you accept?"

"Yes, we accept heartily, caballero," cried the two officers.

"Enough, gentlemen," said Zeno Cabral; "we make a new contract which, I am convinced, will be as loyally kept as the first. Come, then, gentlemen; we have already been here a long time."

"Proceed, sir," answered the count; "we follow."

They set out.

They proceeded thus till the evening, without exchanging a single word. Why should they speak? They had nothing to say.

At the moment when the sun disappeared behind the snowy peaks of the Cordilleras, on a sign from the partisan, the horsemen stopped.

Night was coming on, but the darkness was yet only so deep that the landscape, half veiled by the shadows of evening, appeared all the grander.

The path had by degrees become broader; it now formed a route bordered right and left by high forests of cork trees, through which it passed under magnificent arches of foliage; a thick, coarse grass reached nearly to the chests of the horses; and a waterfall, bounding in disordered masses from the top of a chaos of rocks, formed to the right of the travellers a large silvery sheet, in which the pale moon was reflected.

"We have arrived, gentlemen," said Zeno Cabral; "you can quit your saddles."

"Arrived!" said the count, looking round him.

"For the evening, at all events, count," answered the partisan; "for the few paces we have to go we can take on foot."

Speaking thus the Montonero had attached the bridle of his horse to the pommel of his saddle, and removed the stirrups.

"But our horses?" asked the captain.

"Do not disturb yourself about them."

"But they cannot remain thus."

"They will not remain here; be easy, care will be taken of them."

The count and the captain alighted.

"Well," resumed Zeno, "now wait a bit."

He then took a whistle which was hanging at his neck by a gold chain, concealed under his clothes, and gave a long and shrill whistle.

In a moment a man appeared.

"Ah! Ah! It is you, Don Sylvio," said the partisan, in a good-humoured tone.

"Yes, general, it is me," said the old soldier.

"Very good; let your men take care of the horses, and let us be conducted to the camp."

The officer turned towards the shrubbery from which he had so unexpectedly emerged.

"Hola!" cried he in a loud voice, "Come here, you fellows!"

The six soldiers, who were doubtless in ambuscade not far off, darted suddenly from the underwood, and, having respectfully bowed to Zeno Cabral, ranged themselves behind the old officer, ready to obey blindly the orders which they might receive.

"Is the camp far?" asked the Montonero, addressing Don Sylvio.

"At a gunshot at the most, general."

"You will guide us; as to you," he added, turning to the soldiers, "you know where you have to put the horses."

The soldiers bowed without answering, and quickly approached the horses.

Don Zeno looked round him as if he wished to fathom the darkness, and assure himself that no enemy was watching him; then, motioning Don Sylvio to go on before him:

"Come, gentlemen," he said; "let us go on."

The three then entered the wood, following the captain. Notwithstanding the increasing darkness, the latter found his way with a certainty which showed either that, like certain animals, he had the faculty of seeing in the dark, or that he had a thorough knowledge of the locality through which he was passing.

A quarter of an hour thus passed, during which the four men marched in Indian file – that is to say, following each other one by one – without exchanging a word. At the end of this time they began to perceive the reddish tints of several fires shining through the trees, which now became thicker.

"Halt! Who goes there?" suddenly cried a man.

"Zeno and liberty!" answered the captain, coldly.

"Pass!" said the sentinel, lowering his gun.

The travellers continued their journey. At about ten paces further on, a second sentinel stopped them, and then a third barred their passage at the moment when they reached the skirt of a large glade, in the midst of which was established a camp, which, by the number of fires lighted, appeared to be considerable. This sentinel, when he had exchanged the password with the captain, did not raise his gun as the others had done; he contented himself with turning half round.

"Officer of the guard!" he said; "Reconnoitre!"