ZENO CABRAL.
Meanwhile the gauchos had left the woods, and had retaken, at a smart
pace, the path which was to lead them to the Rio Dulce, until they
heard the gallop of a horse.
This invisible horse annoyed them considerably. After some minutes
hesitation, they resolved to make their minds clear on the subject,
and to know definitely how to act towards the horseman. They therefore
turned their bridles, and boldly stood athwart the path.
Scarcely had they assumed this warlike position five minutes, than
they perceived in the pale light of the stars the black outline of a
horseman.
"Hola!" cried a mocking voice to them; "Hola, caballeros, I am a
friend!"
"Eh! It appears to me that I know that voice," said Mataseis.
"It is not unknown to me," answered Sacatripas.
"Eh!" cried the horseman, "They are model brothers, my worthy friends,
the Señores Metaseis and Sacatripas. Delighted to meet you, gentlemen."
"Ha!" cried they, "It is his Excellency Don Zeno Cabral; this is a
curious rencontre."
"Upon my word, yes," gaily answered the latter. "It is extraordinary, I
admit."
"As the breeze begins to be sharp, we were just preparing to camp when
we saw your Excellency."
"Good; if I do not discommode you, I will keep you company."
They then alighted, gathered some dry branches, with which the ground
was strewed in great quantity, and they had soon lighted a fire,
unsaddled and secured their horses, and were seated before the flame of
their fire.
Each drew out some provisions from his alforjas, a kind of double
pocket that horsemen carry behind their saddles. These provisions, were
spread out in common, and the three companions, who had so fortuitously
met--or at least they thought so--began to eat with a good appetite,
every now and then taking large bumpers of white brandy, and then,
their supper finished, they lighted their cigarettes.
"Well, señores," said Zeno Cabral, "now that we have had a good meal,
what do you say to talk a bit?"
"People always gain by talking with a man like your Excellency,"
sententiously replied Mataseis.
"You speak more truly than you think, perhaps. So you have been
dismissed, then, by that Frenchman?"
"Alas, yes."
"At least he paid you?"
"We have nothing to claim from him, your Excellency."
"Then you are open to execute a mission for me."
"We know that you are very generous, your Excellency; will you tell us
what it is, and if we can do it we will."
"The mission with which I wish to charge you is not difficult. I have a
despatch to send to General Don Eusebio Moratín; if you could undertake
this, I confess you would greatly serve me."
"And why should we refuse to charge ourselves with it, your Excellency?"
"I do not know; you know your own affairs better than I do, and you
know if it is possible."
The partisan's proposition was all the more agreeable to the gauchos,
as they wanted a pretext to introduce themselves to the general.
This despatch would naturally make their path smoother; moreover,
recommended by Zeno Cabral, they would awaken no suspicion, and were
sure of being well received.
"Well," resumed Zeno Cabral, after a pause, "what do you say?"
"We will take the despatch, your Excellency."
"Bear in mind that it must be given to General Moratín himself."
"We will give it into his own hands."
"Hum! That is, perhaps, too much to exact," murmured the partisan to
himself; "I am going to write the despatch by the light of the fire;
and you will permit me to offer you ten ounces."
"We accept it with gratitude, your Excellency," joyously answered the
gauchos.
Zeno Cabral drew from his alforjas a little travelling companion,
containing ink, pens, and paper, and immediately proceeded with his
despatch, which he then folded, sealed, and handed to Mataseis.
"Now," said he, "there are the ten ounces; I rely on your attention."
"Consider it as good as done, your Excellency," answered Mataseis,
pocketing the money.
In a few minutes the three men wrapped themselves in their skins and
blankets, stretched their feet towards the fire, and were soon asleep.
"If these fellows do not now succeed in being received by Moratín,"
said the partisan, "they must be very awkward."
When the gauchos awoke at break of day, they were alone; Zeno Cabral
had gone, having taken French leave.
The gauchos easily reconciled themselves to this want of politeness;
they were paid in advance, and very well paid too.
We will briefly say that they met General Moratín at Santiago del
Estero, and that they found no difficulty in being incorporated in the
general's escort.
To the questions that the general and M. Dubois addressed them on this
subject, they replied that they knew the desert in its most secret
paths.
We will now abandon the Señores Mataseis and Sacatripas, and will
return to Zeno Cabral.
While the gauchos were plotting, in company of Don Pablo Pincheyra, the
death of General Moratín, Zeno Cabral, who at a distance had perceived
them at the moment when they left the tent to ensconce themselves in
the thicket, had concealed his horse, and, cutting across country, had
proceeded to the spot where they were.
Zeno had been invisibly present, not only at the serio-comic turns of
fortune in their game at monte, but also had heard every syllable of
their conversation with the Pincheyra. It is notable that the projects
of Don Pablo squared with his own, for a smile of satisfaction played
on his lips at this unexpected revelation.
His negotiation terminated, the partisan had immediately resolved on
quitting the bad company, to meet with which he had been compelled to
go out of his way.
Loud snoring soon told him the gauchos soundly slept; then he rose
stealthily, saddled his horse, leaped in the saddle without touching
the stirrup, and, despite the darkness, rapidly galloped off across the
desert.
This journey, made at such an hour in the darkness in so wild a region,
would probably have been fatal to anyone but the bold Montonero.
The whole night passed thus. At the break of day the Montonero had made
twenty leagues and crossed two rivers.
His horse, knocked up with fatigue, stumbled at every step; and the
Montonero was obliged to stop if he would not have his horse fall dead
under him.
He halted on the border of a wood, removed the harness from his horse,
rubbed him down vigorously with a handful of dry grass, washed his
nostrils, withers, and legs with water mixed with brandy, and then let
him free.
The animal neighed two or three times with pleasure, and rolled himself
with delight on the grass.
"It is four o'clock," said he, examining the sky; "at nine o'clock I
will set off; now for some sleep." With that self-control which certain
exceptional natures possess, he closed his eyes and soon slept. At nine
o'clock exactly, as he had promised himself, he awoke.
He drew from his alforjas the horn of a wild bull, poured water in it
to two-thirds of its capacity, added some sugar and some harina tostada
or parched meal, and with a spoon he mixed it so as to make it a kind
of broth. He then with great gusto swallowed this singular compound,
which in these countries forms the principal nourishment of the poorer
classes. This frugal meal ended, he lighted his cigarette and fell into
a brown study.
A few minutes afterwards he set off. As he had done during the night,
he did not follow--we will not say any marked route, for such routes
do not exist in these regions--any pathway at all. He pushed right
ahead, in the Indian fashion, neither swerving to the right nor to
the left, leaping obstacles which rose before him, crossing rivers
wherever he met with them, or scampering through ravines and quagmires,
always following without deviation the right line he had marked out for
himself.
For six days he travelled thus without meeting any incidents worthy of
remark. On the evening of the sixth day he reached a somewhat elevated
hill, the summit of which was only shaded by a single tree.
This position was marvellously chosen to serve for an observatory. From
it the Montonero completely commanded the plain, and his eye could
extend on all sides as far as the distant blue of the horizon, without
anything disturbing his view.
This time Zeno Cabral, after having rubbed down his horse, instead
of giving him his liberty as he had done each evening, kept on his
harness, with the exception of the bridle to allow him to feed, tied
him to a picket strongly planted in the earth, and on a blanket spread
on the ground he placed a ration of maize--a feast that the horse
evidently appreciated, for, having neighed with pleasure, he proceeded
to eat heartily.
The young man looked at him a short time, patting him and speaking
gently to him--caresses that the noble animal seemed to receive with
gratitude. The Montonero then, having supped without even sitting
down, rapidly descended the hill, on the summit of which burned his
solitary watch fire, and penetrated hastily into the underwood, looking
attentively round him, and seeking, by the rays of the setting sun,
something to which he appeared to attach great importance.
For about an hour he devoted himself to an active search, walking
cautiously round the hill. He then stopped, uttering a cry of joy. He
had at last found what he wanted. Before him rose a group of the Amyris
elemifera, or balsam tree, commonly called by the Indians "candle
wood." The Indians cut the branches, and sometimes the shrub itself,
making use of it as a kind of torch. The light given by these torches
is brilliant and strong, and the torch itself lasts a considerable time.
Zeno Cabral felled with his sabre several of these branches, stripped
them of their leaves, made a bundle of them, which he placed on his
shoulder, and again ascended to the summit of the hill.
Meanwhile the sun had disappeared, and the day had been almost without
any transition replaced by night.
Darkness soon blinded all objects, drowned all the features of the
landscape, and the desert was covered as with a funeral winding sheet.
The Montonero, seated before the fire, with his back leaning on the
trunk of the tree, in the position the most comfortable he could
secure, warmed his feet carelessly, smoking his cigarette.
Suddenly a shrill whistle rent the air.
At the same moment Zeno Cabral started up as if moved by a spring.
Rekindling the half-extinguished embers of the fire, on which he threw
an armful of dead wood, he picked up a branch of balsam tree, lighted
it, walked to the commencement or the slope of the hill, and then,
having rapidly waved it above his head, he threw it in the air, where
it traced a long streak of fire.
Almost immediately a second whistle, but nearer, was heard.
Zeno Cabral took a second torch, and lighting it, he waved it above his
head, and darted it into the air, like the first.
This signal given, the partisan returned to his fire, passed his
pistols in his girdle, took his gun, on which he leaned, and waited.
He did not wait long. In about five minutes the sound of steps and a
trembling of the grass indicated that several persons were approaching.
"Has the moon of wild oats already so far advanced that the darkness is
so thick?" said a voice.
"It is easy to procure light," answered Zeno Cabral, lighting a torch,
and raising it above his head.
"The night is cold; here is fire; warm yourselves."
"Thank you," answered one of the men: "fire is good at this hour of the
night."
The persons who had arrived then entered the circle of light spread by
the torch. Two wore the costume of Guaycurus chiefs; they were Gueyma
and the Cougar. The third, dressed in the European fashion, was no less
than Don Sylvio Quiroga.
"Thanks be given to these caballeros," said he, after respectfully
bowing to his chief; "I think that they are nyctalopes, and that, like
cats and other animals, they have the faculty of seeing in the dark. I
was completely lost when they met me, and was groping like a blind man
rudely striking myself against the trees."
"Well, rest yourself, Don Sylvio, while I talk with these caballero,"
answered the Montonero, laughing, "and warm yourself at the same time."
"I should not like to be indiscreet, general."
"Do not fear that, my friend; we shall converse in a language that you
will not understand."
"As that is the case, I will venture," answered the old soldier.
The Indians had remained motionless and indifferent to this short
conversation.
"Will you be seated near me, captains," said Zeno Cabral; "I am happy
to see you."
When the visitors were seated, Zeno Cabral, after offering them
tobacco, which they accepted, resumed--
"Chiefs, you some days ago asked an interview with me; here I am at
your orders. Will you, therefore, give me your views, as you know as
well as I do how time presses."
"Señor Don Zeno Cabral, for many a year we have known one another,"
answered the Cougar.
"Yes," said the partisan, whose brow lowered; "it is you, Diogo, who,
when I was still young, came through a thousand perils to tell me of
the sad death of my sister. From that day we have constantly been in
relations with each other. I will add, Diogo," he said, with suppressed
emotion, "that I have never met a heart more devoted, a friend more
sincere than you, or a soul more grand and noble."
"I have done my duty towards you, and towards my mistress, Señor Don
Zeno."
"On one point, Diogo--on one only--I may have reason to reproach you.
You have never told me how my poor sister died, or where is her grave."
"Caballero," answered Diogo, with ill-concealed embarrassment, "a
solemn oath closes my mouth. But a day will come when you will know
all."
Zeno Cabral's head sank despondingly, and he did not answer.
"Will you permit me, your lordship," said the Cougar, "to resume the
conversation where we left off?"
The partisan made a gesture of acquiescence.
"Your lordship," said the captain, "the time has come to instruct
Gueyma in what he ought to know. This is the only reason which has
induced me to ask for this interview."
"Oh, señor," cried Gueyma, with all the impulsiveness of youth, "I
entreat you, in the name of the friendship that you appear to have for
me, speak, that I may at last know who I am."
"My boy," sadly replied Zeno Cabral, "are you not happy as you are?
Of what use is it to bring trouble to your heart, and open a gulf in
which all your happiness will disappear? Alas! Knowledge kills. Keep
your careless ignorance; you are young."
The young chief had listened to these words with an impatience.
"You knew my family, did you not? Who was my father?"
"A Portuguese nobleman, belonging to one of the principal families of
the kingdom."
"And my mother?"
"A Portuguese, as noble as she was beautiful."
"So I belong to the white race?"
"Yes."
"I feared it," murmured the young man; "but how is it that I have been
brought up by the Guaycurus?"
"After the death of your mother, cowardly assassinated under the
suspicion of a fault which she did not commit, I carried you away
myself, to snatch you from the implacable hatred of a man who wished to
kill you, and gave you to the care of Diogo."
"I thank him," said the young man, with wild energy; "but that race I
hate; I am ashamed to belong to it, since the murderer of my mother was
a member of it."
"It was a white," answered Zeno Cabral.
"Good! I do not wish ever to know," replied he, with energy, "what is
the name of my family. What does it matter to me? I call myself Gueyma;
I am a child of the Guaycurus; this name and title are sufficient. I do
not wish any other."
"Gueyma," said Zeno, "you are a good-hearted man, I love you."
"One word more only," continued the young man. "Does the assassin of my
mother still live?"
"He does."
"Will you aid me to find him?"
"I will confront him with you."
"Thank you, Don Zeno Cabral; that is all I wished to know."
And, rising with the spring of a wild beast, the young man darted down
the slope of the hill, and disappeared, even before his friends could
try and retain him.
"The young man has a noble heart," murmured the partisan.
"Yes," pursued Diogo, "his is a fine and noble nature; his heart will
be broken."
"And will not mine be so?" significantly asked the Montonero.
"But let us talk of business."
The conversation then changed, and was entirely confined to the events
in which Zeno Cabral and Diogo had been so long engaged.
Then, when the two men had decided on the measures which they thought
necessary to the success of their dark projects, the captain withdrew,
and Zeno Cabral remained alone with Don Sylvio Quiroga.