The Flying Horseman

There was a movement in the glade, the clatter of arms was heard, followed immediately by the hasty step of several men, and ten soldiers, commanded by an officer, came towards the sentinel.

"¡Vive Dios!" said in a low voice the captain Don Lucio Ortega, to the partisan, "Receive my felicitations, señor; you maintain a rare discipline in your camp."

"What would you have, captain?" asked Don Zeno, smiling; "It ought to be so. Would it not be very stupid for us some day, for a want of a little vigilance, to be surprised by the enemy?"

The officer who had been called by the sentinel arrived at this moment, followed by several soldiers, apparently ready to aid him, if necessary.

But this time it was Zeno Cabral who took on himself to reply. On perceiving the officer, he motioned away Don Sylvio, and taking his place:

"Each one in his turn," said he in a low voice, placing his hand in a friendly way on the old officer's shoulder.

"That is right," answered the latter, bowing respectfully, and moving off.

"Who goes there?" cried the chief of the patrol, who had come to the call of the sentinel.

"Ah!" exclaimed the Montonero, apostrophising the officer, "Are you there, then, Captain Don Estevan Albino?"

"Cuerpo de Cristo!" cried the officer; "It is the general's voice."

"There! I knew you would recognise me."

"Ah! This is a fortunate arrival!" said the captain.

"You know," said Don Zeno, "that I expect that you will permit me to pass."

"¡Vive Dios! General, are you not chief among us? We will escort you."

"Come, gentlemen," said he, addressing the two Spaniards, "I believe we shall be well received."

"I should like to see it otherwise," grumbled Don Sylvio, through his moustache.

The news of the arrival of the general had now been spread through the camp; those who had been watching had risen; the sleepers, rudely awakened, had imitated them, rubbing their eyes; and all hastened, with torches and cries of joy, into the presence of the chief whom they adored.

Zeno Cabral then entered his camp, amidst the bright reflection of the torches, agitated by the night breeze.

As soon as the chief found himself in the midst of his staff, who hastened round him to congratulate him, he, by a gesture, ordered silence.

"Gentlemen," said he, pointing to the two men who accompanied him, and who stood modestly behind him, "these two caballeros are my friends, and not my prisoners. Although devoted to another cause than our own, and not sharing our political convictions, they are, for a time at least, placed under the security of our honour. I commend them to your honourable care; see that they want for nothing, and are treated with the respect due to them."

"Thank you, general," said the two men; "we did not expect less from your courtesy."

The introduction over, the soldiers occupied themselves with the newcomers.

Probably the arrival of the general, as the Montoneros called him, was expected, for a vast tent in the middle of the camp had been raised for him; but, notwithstanding the weariness and hunger that he felt, he did not consent to retire then, till he had seen the Spaniards installed as comfortably as circumstances would permit.

By degrees, quiet was re-established in the camp; the Montoneros resumed their places round their bivouac fires, and were soon asleep under their mantles.

The sentinels alone kept watch.

We are wrong; there was another that kept watch – Zeno Cabral.

Leaning on a table, his head between his hands, he was examining attentively, by the uncertain light of a smoky lamp, a map unrolled before him.

The map was one of the viceroyalty of Buenos Aires.

Now and then, on certain places on the map which he was so carefully studying, the Montonero stuck pins, the heads of which had been dipped in black or red wax.

Don Zeno had, for about an hour, given himself up to this work, which so much absorbed him that he had forgotten fatigue and sleep, when the curtain of the tent was drawn aside, and a man appeared.. At the sound of his steps the general raised his head.

"Ah! It is you, Don Juan Armero?" said he, saluting the person in a friendly way; "What news? You return from a reconnoitering trip, do you not?"

"Just so, general," answered Don Juan, after having given a military salute to his chief; "I have just arrived, and I bring news."

"Speak without fear. Everyone is asleep."

"That may be, but if you will allow me, I will tell you the news in the open air – not here."

"How is that?" said Don Zeno; "We are, I think, in a very good position to talk here."

"Excuse me, general," said Don Juan Armero, "but these walls of canvas, which intercept the view, without preventing words from being heard, cause me a fear which I cannot surmount. I am afraid, though I may be deceived, that there may be a spy on the watch."

"Is what you have to say to me important, then?" asked Don Zeno.

"I think it is of some importance."

"Hum!" said Zeno, in a reverie; "Come then."

The night was calm; millions of stars glittered in the dark blue sky; the breeze gently agitated the leafy tops of the trees; the moon, on the wane, spread an uncertain light on the landscape.

The two men proceeded a few steps silently side by side. Zeno Cabral was reflecting, and Don Juan Armero respectfully waited till his chief should address him.

"Well," the partisan asked, "what is this news, Don Juan? You can without fear tell me here."

"Just so, general," he answered. "I have been, as you know, on a journey of discovery. The Brazilian army has left its cantonments in the Banda Oriental; a division of this army is advancing by forced marches in this direction to take possession of the fords of the rivers, and the mouths of the defiles, so as to permit a second division, which follows it at a day's march behind, to invade Tucumán."

"Oh! Oh!" murmured the partisan, "That is, indeed, serious. Is this news reliable?"

"Yes, general."

"Well, go on; but just a word – have you learned by what general this Brazilian division is commanded?"

"Yes, general."

"And his name is?" he asked.

"It is the Marquis Don Roque de Castelmelhor."

Something like a smile crossed the austere face of the Montonero, and gave him an inexpressible look of hope and hatred.

"What direction do these troops follow?" he said.

"They are preparing to cross the desert plains of the Abipones."

"Good!" he murmured; "However quick they will march, we will rejoin them; and," slightly raising his voice, "what news of the Guaycurus?"

"None, general."

"That is strange; have you nothing else to communicate to me?"

"Pardon, general; I have indeed some more important news for you."

"Come, speak! I am listening."

"Don Pablo Pincheyra, the Bear of Casa-Frama, has suddenly abandoned his inaccessible repair."

"I know it," said the general.

"But what you doubtless do not know is, that, furious at having been so completely deceived by you, he is pursuing you – with only a few men, it is true."

"Good!" said Zeno Cabral, smiling; "Let them come, Don Juan, let them come. Anything else?"

"Nothing, general, unless it is to ask you if your expedition has succeeded, and if you are satisfied."

"Enchanted, Don Juan, enchanted! I hope that, in a few days, we shall have attained the end that I have for so long contemplated."

"God grant it, general."

"Thank you, Don Juan," said he. "I hope God will not destroy my hopes. Good night."

The officer bowed and immediately retired, and Zeno Cabral regained his tent with slow steps.

"Ah!" murmured he, falling on a seat; "Would that fortune may at last favour me, and that I may be allowed to capture them all by a throw of the net!"

He remained a short time pensive; then, having trimmed his lamp, he again bent over his map.

The most profound silence reigned without; except the sentinels, everyone in the camp was asleep.

Till the morning, the general's lamp burned in his tent.

He alone, of the partisans, kept unquiet vigil.

CHAPTER X

THE FORAGERS

About ten days had passed between the events that we have just related and the day on which we resume our narrative. The scene is no longer in the Cordilleras, but in the midst of the vast deserts which separate Brazil from the Spanish possessions – a kind of neutral territory, which the two nations had for a long time desperately disputed, and which was held by warlike and independent Indians.

The spot to which we have transported our scene was an immense plain enclosed by high mountains, whose peaks were covered in snow. A large river divided the plain into two nearly equal parts, though with a thousand capricious windings; its silvery waters, slightly rippled by the morning breeze and glittering in the first rays of the sun, reflected changing colours as if thousands of diamonds had been scattered on its bosom.

The calm of this majestic desert was only disturbed at this moment by a numerous troop of horsemen, who skirted at a gallop the left bank of the river.

These horsemen, whose nationality it was impossible to discover so far off, appeared to be warriors.

Whoever they might be, they appeared to be in great haste, and dashed forward with such rapidity that, if they continued thus for a few hours, some of them would be inclined to fall back and lag behind.

The more this troop advanced into the plain the easier it was, through the cloud of dust that enveloped them, which was at times driven away by the wind, to discover the circumstances under which they were travelling. The troop was composed of more than four thousand men. Each horseman of the principal corps had a foot soldier riding on the same horse behind him.

This circumstance was not at all extraordinary.

Arrived at a point of land jutting into the river, the advanced guard stopped.

Two hours later the tents were ready, intrenchments made, sentinels posted, and the corps d'armée was firmly established in an excellent position out of the reach of a surprise.

It was ten o'clock in the morning.

Except the corps d'armée, the immense plain appeared quite deserted.

Nevertheless, several measures of precaution had been taken. Sentinels, placed at certain distances, watched over the common safety, and their horses, which are generally left to browse at liberty during a halt, were attached to pickets fixed in the earth. The bivouac fires were lighted in hollows and fed by an extremely dry wood, which only emitted light and scarcely perceptible smoke.

A remarkable circumstance was that several whites, or rather several persons clothed in the costume of the Spanish-Americans of the Banda Oriental, were among the Indians, and were treated as guests and friends.

Then, on the other side of the river, at the opposite angle of the triangle, of which the corps formed, so to say, the summit, was a third troop of horsemen, also very numerous; but the latter had simply halted among the high grass.

These horsemen were Montoneros, that is to say, partisans.

As to the former, they had not neglected any precaution to escape observation. Concealed behind a thick curtain of shrubbery, they were ambuscaded like hunters on the watch.

The horses, saddled and ready to be mounted, had their nostrils covered with girdles, to prevent them from neighing. Near each horse a lance was struck in the ground, the point downwards.

This last troop evidently knew the precarious situation in which they were, and the disagreeable neighbours that chance or fatality had given them.

Meanwhile the Montoneros, far from showing the least inquietude or the slightest fear of the enemies camped so near them, appeared gay and very unconcerned.

But in all other respects the plain preserved its calmness; no suspicious undulation agitated the grass; the woods preserved their mysterious silence.

Hours passed; it was about two o'clock in the afternoon. A heavy heat oppressed the earth; a heated atmosphere which no breeze refreshed bent towards the ground the half-burnt grass. At this moment some thirty horsemen, amongst whom glittered the golden embroidery of the uniforms of several officers, left the camp of which we have previously spoken, and proceeding in a slanting direction, gained the river.

These horsemen wore the Brazilian uniform. Whether they were persuaded that the plain was really solitary, whether they reckoned on the proximity of their camp to be defended against any dangers which might threaten them, or whether there was any other motive, they marched with very little order, the officers, amongst whom was a general, keeping in advance, and the horsemen forming the escort going on haphazard.

Nearly at the same time, when these foragers or scouts left their camp to make, at so unusual an hour, a trip into the plain, at some distance before them, on the bank of the river, a troop of horsemen, equal in number – that is to say, composed of about thirty men, in the picturesque costume of the Buenos Aireans, appeared marching to meet them.

This second troop marched as rapidly as their horses, harassed by a long journey, could proceed.

The two troops soon found themselves in sight.

"Eh! Eh!" said the Brazilian general, addressing a captain who was riding by his side, "I think those are our people; what do you think of it?"

"I think so too, general," answered the officer; "come, that will set me right with them."

"Yes, they are men of their word; I think it augurs well for the result of our conference. Remember that we are very far from Tucumán, and that they must have made great haste to arrive here on the day."

"Just so, general; we are, if I am not deceived, on the territory of the Indian bravos, on neutral ground."

"Yes, you are right," answered the other, suddenly becoming pensive. "I think I have even a confused remembrance of these parts."

"You, general!"

"Yes, yes, but a long time ago; I was young then; I did not think Of taking service. Impelled by I know not what furious ardour, I traversed these desert regions in search of adventures – for my pleasure," he added.

The captain looked at him for a moment with an expression of gentle pity.

Some minutes thus passed. At last the general raised his head, and again addressing his aide-de-camp – that was the position that the captain occupied towards him:

"These gauchos are rude men, are they not, Don Sebastiao?" he asked.

"It is said, general," answered the officer, "that these men are remarkable for power, skill, and courage. I cannot vouch for it, only having heard so much."

"I know them; I have seen them at work; they are demons."

"It is possible," said the captain smiling; "but I think that, without going very far, it would be easy to find in Brazil men who for bravery, power, and cunning are equal to them, if they are not superior."

"Oh! Oh! You are of course joking, Don Sebastiao?"

"I am not at all joking; I express my conviction."

"A conviction! And of whom do you speak then?"

"Why, the Paulistas, general – the Paulistas whom you know as well as I do – those extraordinary men who have accomplished so many extraordinary things since the discovery of America, and to whom Brazil owes her incalculable riches."

The aide-de-camp would have continued speaking in the same manner, but the general did not listen to him; his countenance had become of a livid paleness; a convulsive trembling had, like an electric shock, run through his body, and he had sunk upon his horse as if he were on the point of losing consciousness.

"Good Heaven! What is the matter with you, general?" cried the officer.

"I do not know," answered the latter, in a choking voice: "I do not feel well."

"The heat, no doubt, general?"

"Yes, that is it, I think; but never mind, I am better – much better; it will be nothing, I hope."

"God grant it, general! You really frightened me."

"Thank you, Don Sebastiao, I know your kindness. For some time I have been subject to sudden faintness, that I do not know how to account for; but as you have seen, the fit is always very short."

The captain bowed without answering, and the conversation ceased.

Meanwhile the horsemen whom Don Sebastiao had perceived, advanced rapidly, and they were soon within fifty paces of the Portuguese.

Then they made a halt, and for a short time they appeared to consult together. Then a horseman separated from the group and set off direct towards the Brazilians.

The general had attentively followed with his eye the movements of the newcomers. On a sign from him Don Sebastiao left his troop, which remained motionless, and spurring his horse, boldly approached the gaucho, after having attached a white handkerchief to the point of his sword.

The two envoys, who were recognised as such, met at an equal distance from the two troops still remaining in the rear, but ready for attack as for defence.

After having attentively examined the man in face of whom he was, Don Sebastiao at last resolved, seeing that the other remained silent, to speak first.

"Caballero," said he in Spanish, slightly bowing his head, "I am Don Sebastiao de Vianna, captain in the Brazilian service, sent to you by my general, who has himself come to meet you to know if you and your companions are enemies or friends."

"The question that you do me the honour to address to me, señor captain," answered the gaucho, "is extremely delicate; I cannot myself answer it, and will leave to others more competent than myself to determine it."

"That is very well put, caballero; however, I have the honour to tell you that, holding this plain with superior forces, we have a right, for our own safety, to exercise a strict watch over the territory which surrounds us. I am pleased to hope that among the persons who accompany you, there is at all events one who is in a position to give me an answer."

"I hope so too, caballero," answered the gaucho, smiling; "nothing is more easy than to assure yourself of that. The heat is suffocating. At a few paces from here there is a woody copse. Let us stop there for an hour, swearing on our honour to separate without striking a blow, if our mutual explanations are not satisfactory."

"¡Vive Dios, caballero! Your proposition appears to me very honourable, and I shall heartily accept it."

The two horsemen then ceremoniously bowed, turned their bridles, and rejoined at a gallop those who had sent them forward.

A few minutes afterwards, the two troops met and mingled with each other; the horsemen alighted, and stretched themselves carelessly on the grass under the shade of the giant trees which skirted the wood; the Brazilian officers and three or four of the gauchos who appeared to be the chiefs of the troop, after politely bowing, without exchanging a word, penetrated the covert, where they soon disappeared from the observation of their people, who had not even turned their heads to see what they were doing.

If these officers had not been so absorbed by their thoughts on entering the woods, they would not have adventured into the covert without having carefully examined the underwood and the thicket which surrounded them. But, thanks to the profound secrecy with which they had kept their intentions – and, more than all, confident in the numerous forces that accompanied them, they were convinced that they ran no danger.

Alter a walk of about a quarter of an hour, the officers reached a rather extensive glade surrounded by thickets almost impenetrable.

The dead cinders of a fire, and some remains of burnt wood, showed that some days or perhaps hours before other travellers had been here to seek a temporary shelter.

"We are not the first who have discovered this glade," said the general, stopping and courteously bowing to the persons who accompanied him; "but never mind, señor, I think the place is well chosen for our conversation that we wish to have, and I think we shall do well to stop here."

"I am thoroughly of your opinion, señor general; let us stay here, it would be difficult to have a better place."

The six officers then formed a group in the middle of the glade, and then commenced the presentations, for those men, who knew each other well by name, and who had come so far to treat on important matters, had never seen one another before that day.

These officers were, on the part of the Spanish creoles – the General. Don Eusebio Moratín; the Duc de Mantone – the Frenchman, who insisted that he should only be called Louis Dubois; and Don Juan Armero, a Montonero officer of the squadron of Zeno Cabral.

The Brazilians were represented by General Don Roque, the Marquis de Castelmelhor; Captain Don Sebastiao Vianna, his aide-de-camp; and another officer of an inferior grade, who plays too insignificant a part in this history for us to present him more formally to the reader.

The Marquis de Castelmelhor was no longer the elegant and handsome cavalier that we have seen in the former part of this narrative. Years, accumulating on his head, had furrowed his face with long wrinkles; the fire of his eye was deadened, so as to leave only a restless expression, sad and almost fierce; his hair had whitened, and his tall figure began to bow under the weight of the incessant fatigues of military life, or perhaps, as his enemies said – and the general had a great many – under the heavy burden of sharp remorse.

M. Dubois was still the same personage of ascetic features, of pale complexion, and of cold and stately manners.

After their mutual presentation, the six men examined each other curiously, secretly studying one another's features, to see where one could the best attack the other.

These officers, silent and sombre, thus looking at each other stealthily before commencing the conversation, rather resembled duellists making ready to fire at each other, than diplomatists assembled to discuss important political questions.

The marquis soon decided that if this silence were prolonged it would become more and more embarrassing for all; so having several times passed his hand over his forehead, as if to chase away some importunate thought, he took upon himself to speak.

"Caballeros," he said, claiming attention by a gesture, "I am glad that we are at last permitted to meet face to face. The occasion that presents itself is too precious for us not to take advantage of it like men of spirit, so as to try and smooth the apparently insurmountable difficult ties which have so long divided us, and which, animated as we are by truly patriotic sentiments, will not, I hope, exist many minutes longer."

"That is well said!" cried a mocking voice, coming from the interior of the wood, "And I should have been much annoyed had I not arrived in time to assist at so philanthropic a meeting."

The officers looked about with astonishment, which almost amounted to fear, on hearing the ironical accents of this voice, and started back, quickly putting their hands to their firearms.

"Is this treason?" cried the marquis, with an inquiring look at General Moratín.

At the same moment the shrubbery was parted, and a man bounded, rather than entered into the glade.

"Don Zeno Cabral!" cried the astounded Buenos Aireans.

"Yes, it is I, señores," mockingly answered the Montonero, removing his hat, and bowing courteously all round; "you did not expect me it seems?" And then, taking a step or two in advance; "I come opportunely, I think. Do not disturb yourselves; go on, I beg. I am sorry I do not know the name of this caballero, but you will inform me, eh?" he added, bowing with an expression of biting sarcasm to the marquis. "The caballero was in the act of saying some very sensible thing which I should be very sorry further to interrupt."

CHAPTER XI

TIGERS AND FOXES

How had Don Zeno Cabral, whom we left in the midst of the Cordilleras, arrived thus unexpectedly to assist at this mysterious consultation? Scarcely had the sun risen, than the Montonero left the tent in which he had watched during the whole night, and ordered a soldier to go and seek Don Juan Armero.

The latter arrived in a few minutes.

"Listen, Don Juan," said Don Zeno Cabral, passing Don Juan's arm through his own, and, taking him on one side, he whispered to him, after assuring himself that no one could hear them, "You are devoted to me, are you not?"