Valentine left the room, went straight to the stables, saddled his horse himself, and set off at a gallop. He had told Don Tadeo the truth: a vague uneasiness disturbed him, he had a presentiment of some misfortune or another.

CHAPTER XXXIX
THE WOUNDED MAN

Let us return to the Count de Prébois Crancé. When the abduction was committed, that part of the plain where Don Tadeo had pitched his camp was deserted. The crowd, attracted by curiosity, had all gone to the side where the renewal of the treaties was taking place. Besides, the measures of the ravishers had been so judiciously taken, all had passed so quickly, without resistance, without cries or tumult, that no alarm had been given, and no one could suspect what was going on. The cries of "murder!" uttered by the wounded young man were too faint to be heard, and the pistol shots he had fired were confounded with the other noises of the festival.

Louis remained for a considerable time lying senseless in front of the tent, the blood flowing from two wounds. By a singular chance, the peons, the arrieros, and even the two Indian chiefs, who could not think there was anything to be dreaded, had all gone, as we have said, to be present at the ceremony. When the cross had been planted, and the toqui and the General had gone, arm in arm, to the tent of the latter, the crowd began to separate into little groups, and soon dispersed, each returning to the spot where he had established his temporary camp.

The Indian chiefs were the first to quit the scene; now that their curiosity was satisfied, they reproached themselves for having been so long absent from their friend. On approaching the little camp, they were surprised at not seeing Louis, and a certain appearance of disorder in the baggage filled them with uneasiness. They quickened their pace, and the nearer they drew the more evident this disorder became in their eyes, accustomed to remark those thousands of signs which escape the eyes of the white man. In fact, the passage left free in the inclosure formed by the bales, seemed to have been the scene of a struggle; the footmarks of several horses were strongly imprinted in the moist earth, and some bales had even been removed, as if to widen the entrance, and lay scattered about. All these indications were more than sufficient for the chiefs; they exchanged an anxious glance, and rushed into the camp.

Louis was still lying where the assassins had left him, stretched across the entrance of the tent, his discharged pistols in his hands, his head thrown back, his mouth half open, and his teeth clenched. The blood had ceased to flow. The two men looked at him for a moment with a feeling of stupor. His countenance was of a livid paleness.

"He is dead!" said Curumilla, in a voice stifled by emotion.

"He seems so," Trangoil-Lanec replied as he knelt down by the body.

He raised the young man's senseless head, untied his cravat, and opened his vest; then they perceived the two gaping wounds.

"This is a revenge!" he murmured.

"What is to be done?" said Curumilla, shaking his head discouragingly.

"Let us try to recover him – I hope he is not dead."

And then, with infinite address and incredible celerity, the two Indians bestowed upon the wounded man the most intelligent and most effective cares. For a long time all were useless. At length a sigh, faint as a breath, exhaled painfully from the oppressed breast of the young man; a slight flush tinted his cheeks, and, after several efforts, he opened his eyes. Curumilla, after having washed the wounds with clean cold water, applied a cataplasm to them of bruised oregano leaves.

"Loss of blood alone has made him faint," he said; "the wounds are wide, but not deep, and not at all dangerous."

"But what has been going on here?" Trangoil-Lanec asked.

"Hush!" said Curumilla, laying his hand upon his comrade's arm; "he speaks."

Indeed, the young man's lips did move silently; but, at length, he pronounced with a great effort, and in a voice so low that the Indians scarcely heard it – that single word which for him contained everything —

"Rosario!"

Then he sank back again.

"Ah!" cried Curumilla, as if a sudden light had broken upon him, "where is the young palefaced maiden?" and he sprang into the tent, "I understand it all now!" he said, returning quickly to his friend.

The Indians lifted up the wounded man gently in their arms, and carried him into the tent, where they placed him in Rosario's empty hammock. Louis recovered his senses, but almost immediately was overcome by a profound drowsiness. After having made him as comfortable as they could, the two Indians left the tent, and began, with the instinct of their race, to seek on the ground for indications they could ask of no witness, but which would show them traces they could understand. Now that the murder and the abduction had taken place, it became necessary to get upon the track of the ravishers, and endeavour, if possible, to save the young girl. After minute researches, which did not last less than two hours, the Indians returned to the front of the tent; they sat down, face to face, and smoked for a few minutes in silence.

The peons and arrieros had returned from the ceremony, and expressed the greatest terror on learning what had taken place during their absence. The poor people did not know what to do; they trembled when they reflected upon the responsibility which rested upon them, and upon the terrible account Don Tadeo would require of them. After the two chiefs had smoked a few minutes, they extinguished their pipes, and Trangoil-Lanec began:

"My brother is a wise chief, let him say what he has seen."

"I will speak, since my brother desires it," Curumilla replied, bowing his head; "the pale maiden with the blue eyes has been carried off by five horsemen."

To this Trangoil-Lanec made a sign of assent.

"These five horsemen came from the other side of the river; their footmarks are strongly imprinted on the ground, which was wetted in the places where the horses trod with their dripping hoofs; four of these horsemen are Huiliches, the fifth is a paleface; when they reached the entrance of the camp, they stopped and consulted an instant, then four of them dismounted; the trace of their footsteps is visible."

"Good!" said Trangoil-Lanec, "my brother has the eyes of a Quanaco; nothing escapes him."

"Of the four horsemen who dismounted, three are Indians, as is easily perceived by the impression of their naked feet, the great toe of which, accustomed to the stirrup, is very wide apart from the other toes; but the fourth is a Muruche, for the rowels of his spurs have left deep marks all around. The three first have crept up to the tent, where Don Louis was talking with the young blue-eyed maiden, and, consequently, with his back towards those who came towards him; he was attacked unexpectedly, and fell without having time to defend himself: then the fourth horseman sprang forward like a puma, seized the maiden in his arms, and after jumping a second time over the body of Don Louis, went straight to his horse, followed by the three Indians. But Don Louis got up, first on his knees, and then on his feet; he fired his pistols at the ravishers, and one of them fell mortally wounded. It was the paleface, for a pool of blood marks the place of his fall, and, in his agony, he pulled up the grass with his clenched hands; then his companions dismounted again, took him up, and fled. Don Louis, after discharging his pistols, had a faintness come over him, and fell down again: that is what I have learnt."

"Good!" Trangoil-Lanec replied, "my brother knows everything; after taking up the body of their comrade, the ravishers crossed the river, and went in the direction of the mountains. Now, what will my brother do?"

"Trangoil-Lanec is an experienced chief, he will wait for Don Valentine; Curumilla is younger, he will go upon the track of the ravishers."

"My brother has spoken well; he is wise and prudent; he will find them."

"Yes, Curumilla will find them," the chief replied, laconically.

After saying these words, he arose, saddled his horse, and left the camp; Trangoil-Lanec soon lost sight of him. He then returned and took his place by the wounded man. The day passed away thus. The Spaniards had all left the plain; the Indians, for the most part, had followed their example; there only remained a few tardy Araucanos; but these, also, were preparing to depart. Towards evening, Louis found himself much better; he was able, in a few words, to relate to the Indian what had passed; but he told him nothing new, he had divined it all.

"Oh!" said the young man, as he ended, "Rosario! poor Rosario is lost!"

"My brother must not be depressed with grief," Trangoil-Lanec replied softly; "Curumilla is upon the track of the ravishers; the young pale maiden will be saved!"

"Do you seriously tell me that, chief? Is Curumilla really in pursuit of them?" the young man asked, fixing his anxious eyes upon the Indian; "can I indeed hope that?"

"Trangoil-Lanec is an Ulmen," the Araucano replied proudly: "no lie has ever soiled his lips, his tongue is not forked; I repeat that Curumilla is in pursuit of the ravishers. Let my brother hope; he will see again the little bird which sings such sweet songs in his heart."

A sudden flush crossed the young man's face at these words; a sad smile curled his pale lips; he gently pressed the hand of the chief, and closing his eyes, he sank gently back in the hammock. All at once the furious galloping of a horse was heard from without.

"Good!" Trangoil-Lanec murmured, looking at the wounded man, whose regular breathing proclaimed that he was sleeping peacefully: "what will Don Valentine say to all this?"

And he strode out hastily to meet the Parisian, whose face was the picture of anxiety.

"Chief!" he cried, in a tremulous voice, "can what the peons say be true?"

"Yes!" the chief replied coolly.

The young man sank down, as if thunder-struck. The Indian seated him gently upon a bale, and placing himself beside him, pressed his hand, saying in a soothing tone:

"My brother has much courage."

"Alas!" the young man exclaimed, in an agonized voice, "Louis, my poor Louis, dead, assassinated! Oh!" he added, with a terrible gesture, "I will avenge him! I will solely live to accomplish that sacred duty!"

The chief looked at him for an instant attentively.

"What does my brother mean?" he asked; "his friend is not dead."

"Oh! why do you seek to deceive me, chief?"

"I speak the truth; Don Louis is not dead," the Ulmen replied, in such an imposing voice that it carried conviction to the wounded heart of the young man.

"Oh!" he cried, impetuously, and springing up, "he lives! – is that possible?"

"He has received two wounds."

"Two wounds!"

"Yes, but my brother can be comforted, they are not dangerous; in a week, at latest, they will be cured."

Valentine remained for an instant stupefied by this good news, after the catastrophe which the peons and arrieros had announced to him.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, throwing himself into the arms of the chief, whom he pressed with a kind of frenzy to his breast, "it is true, is it not? – his life is not in danger?"

"No, no, my brother can reassure himself; loss of blood alone reduced him to the state of torpor into which he fell. I will answer for his recovery."

"Thanks! thanks, chief! I can see him, may I not?"

"He is asleep."

"Oh! I will not wake him, be assured of that; I only wish to see him."

"See him, then," Trangoil-Lanec replied, smiling.

Valentine went in. He looked at his friend, peacefully sleeping; he leant softly over him, and impressing a kiss upon his brow, whispered —

"Sleep, dear brother, I will watch."

The lips of the wounded man moved; he murmured —

"Valentine, save her!"

The Parisian knitted his brow, and drew himself up again.

"Come here, chief," he said to Trangoil-Lanec, "and tell me the details of what has passed, that I may know how to avenge my brother, and save her he loves."

The two men quitted the tent.

CHAPTER XL
AHAUCANIAN DIPLOMACY

Antinahuel had not remained long inactive. Scarce had General Bustamente's escort disappeared in the cloud of dust, ere he remounted his horse, and, followed by all the Araucano chiefs, crossed the river. When he arrived on the other bank, he planted his lance in the ground, and turned towards the herald who was beside him, ready to execute his orders.

"Let the three toquis, the Ulmens, and the Apo-Ulmens meet here in an hour," he said; "the fire of council shall be lighted on this spot for a grand council. Begone!"

The herald bowed down to his horse's neck and set off at full speed. Antinahuel cast a glance around him. All the chiefs had regained their huts; one warrior alone remained. On perceiving him a smile stole over the lips of the toqui. This warrior was a man of lofty stature, proud carriage, and haughty countenance, whose piercing look conveyed a fierce and cruel expression. He appeared to be in the prime of life, that is to say, about forty years of age; he wore a poncho of exceedingly fine lama wool, striped with striking colours, while the long silver-headed cane which he held in his hand proclaimed him an Apo-Ulmen. He replied to the toqui's smile by a look of intelligence, and, bending to his ear, said, with an accent of gratified hatred —

"When the cougars tear each other to pieces, they prepare a rich quarry for the eagles of the Andes."

"The Puelches are eagles," Antinahuel replied; "they are masters of the other side of the mountains; they leave to the Huiliche women the care of weaving their ponchos."

At this sarcasm, launched against the Huiliches, a fraction of the Araucano people, who devote themselves principally to agriculture and the breeding of cattle, the Apo-Ulmen frowned.

"My father is severe with his sons," he said, in a husky voice.

"The Black-Stag is a formidable chief in his nation," Antinahuel remarked, in a conciliatory tone; "he is the first of the Apo-Ulmens of the province of the maritime country. His heart is Puelche; my soul rejoices when he is at my side. Why is it that the Ulmens are not of the same temper as he?"

"My brother has explained the reason. Obliged to live in continual trade relations with the miserable Spaniards, the tribes of the flat country have laid down the lance to take up the pickaxe: they have become cultivators; but let not my father be deceived, – the old spirit of their race still dwells within them, and on the day when they are called on to fight for their independence, all will rise at once to punish those who would attempt to enslave them."

"Can that be true?" Antinahuel cried, stopping his horse short, and looking in the speaker's face; "may they be depended upon?"

"What is the use of speaking of the subject at this moment?" said the Apo-Ulmen, with a bantering smile; "has not my father just come from renewing the treaties with the palefaces?"

"That is true," said the toqui, darting a keen look at the Indian warrior: "peace is secured for a long time."

"My father is a wise chief, that which he does is well done," the other replied, casting down his eyes.

Antinahuel was preparing to reply, when an Indian arrived at full speed, and, with a prodigy of skill which these matchless horsemen alone can execute, he stopped suddenly before the two chiefs, and stood as motionless as a statue of bronze. The panting sides of his horse, which ejected clouds from his nostrils, and was spotted with white foam, showed that he had ridden far and fast. Antinahuel looked at him for an instant.

"My son Theg-teg – the thunderer – has made a rapid journey."

"I have executed the orders of my father."

At these words, out of politeness, the Apo-Ulmen pressed the sides of his horse to retire, but Antinahuel laid his hand upon his arm.

"Black-Stag may remain," he said; "is he not my friend?"

"I will remain if my father wishes it," the chief answered, quietly.

"Let him remain, then; his brother has no secrets from him;" and turning to the still motionless warrior, he added, "my brother can speak."

"The Chiaplos are fighting," the latter replied; "they have dug up the hatchet and turned it against their own breasts."

"Oh!" the toqui exclaimed with feigned astonishment; "my brother must be mistaken, the palefaces are not cougars, to devour each other."

And he turned towards Black-Stag, with a smile of undefinable expression.

"Theg-teg is not mistaken," the Indian warrior replied, gravely; "his eyes have seen clearly: the stone toldería, which the palefaces call Valdivia, is at this moment a more ardent furnace than the volcano of Autaco, which serves as a retreat for Guécubu, the genius of evil."

"Good!" the toqui remarked, coldly, "my son has seen well; he is a warrior brave in battle, but he is likewise prudent; did he stand apart to rejoice, without seeking to learn which side prevailed?"

"Theg-teg is prudent, but when he looks he means to see; he knows all, my father may question him."

"Good! the great warrior of the palefaces set out from here to fly to the help of his soldiers; the advantage is with him."

The Indian smiled, but made no reply.

"Let my brother speak!" Antinahuel resumed; "the toqui of his nation interrogates him."

"He whom my brother names as the great warrior of the palefaces, is the prisoner of his enemies; his soldiers are dispersed like grains of wheat scattered over the field."

"Wah!" Antinahuel cried with feigned anger, "my brother has a lying tongue, what he says cannot be true; does the eagle become the prey of the owl? The great warrior has an arm strong as the thunder of Pillian. Nothing can resist it."

"That arm, however powerful, has not been able to save him; the eagle is captive: the courageous puma was surprised by cunning foxes; he has fallen, treacherously overcome, into the snare they had laid before his feet."

"But his soldiers? the great toqui of the whites had a numerous army."

"I have told my father; the chief being made captive, the soldiers, bewildered and struck with fear by Guécubu, fell beneath the blows of their angry enemies."

"The chiefs who were conquerors, no doubt, pursued them."

"What for? The palefaces are women without courage: as soon as their enemies weep and pray for pardon they forgive them."

At this news the toqui could not repress a movement of impatience, but he soon recovered himself.

"Brothers ought not to be inexorable," he said, "when they lift the hatchet against each other: they may wound a friend without wishing it. The pale warriors have done well."

The Indian bowed if as assenting.

"What are the palefaces doing now?" the chief continued.

"They are assembled round the council fire."

"Good! They are wise men. I am satisfied with my son," Antinahuel added, with a gracious smile; "he is a warrior, as skilful as brave; he may retire, and take the repose necessary after so long a journey." "Theg-teg is not fatigued; his life is my father's," the warrior said with a bow; "he may dispose of it at his pleasure."

"Antinahuel will remember his son," the toqui said with a sign of dismissal.

The Indian bowed respectfully to his chief, and pressing his knees whilst shortening the bridle, he made his horse perform a curvet, brought it to the ground with an extraordinary bound, and went off caracoling. The toqui looked after him in apparent abstraction; then addressing the Apo-Ulmen —

"What does my brother think of that which this man has said?" he asked.

"My father is the wisest of the toquis of his nation, the chief the most venerated by the Araucanian tribes; Pillian will breathe words into his mind which will mount to his lips, and which we shall listen to with respect," Black-Stag replied, evasively, fearing to compromise himself by too frank a reply.

"My brother is right," the toqui said, with a haughty glance; "I have my nymph!"

The Apo-Ulmen bowed with an air of conviction. We beg our readers to observe, with regard to this expression, which for the first time has fallen from our pen, that in the Araucanian mythology, besides an infinite number of gods and goddesses, there are what are called spiritual nymphs, who perform towards man the office of familiar genii. There is not a renowned chief among the Araucanos who does not glorify himself with the idea of having one of these in his service. Hence, what Antinahuel said, instead of disturbing Black-Stag, gave him, on the contrary, a greater veneration for his chief; for he also flattered himself with having a familiar spirit at his command, although he did not dare to proclaim it aloud. At this moment the Araucanian drums and trumpets sounded loudly – the chasquis were calling the chiefs to council.

"What will my father do?" asked the Apo-Ulmen.

"Man is weak," Antinahuel replied; "but Pillian loves his sons, the Moluchos, he will inspire the words I shall pronounce; my only desire is the happiness of the Araucano nation."

"My father has convoked the great Auca-coyog of the nation; did he then suspect the news he has just received?"

"Antinahuel knows everything," he answered, with a smile.

"Good! I know what my father thinks."

"Perhaps."

"Let my father remember the words I have spoken."

"My ears are open, my son may repeat them,"

"When cougars tear each other to pieces, they prepare a rich quarry for the eagles of the Andes."

"Good!" said Antinahuel, with a laugh; "my son is a great chief, let him follow me to the Auca-coyog, the warriors are waiting for us."

The two warriors exchanged a look of undefinable meaning; these two men, so cunning and dissimulating, had compromised themselves to each other without avowing anything. They directed their course at a gallop towards the spot where the principal chiefs awaited them, drawn up in a circle around a fierce fire, the smoke of which ascended in graceful eddies towards heaven.