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!"
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.