Rising from their knees, and resuming their seats upon the ledge, they
return to the subject of discourse, interrupted by their devotional
interlude; Caspar declaring it his fixed intention to disguise himself
as an Indian, and so seek entrance into the town. No matter what the
danger, he is ready to risk it.
The others consenting, the next question that comes before them is, how
the disguise is to be got up. About this there seems a difficulty to
Ludwig, and also to Cypriano; though recalling the transformation of the
latter into a soldier-crane, so quickly done by the deft hands of the
gaucho, they doubt not that he will also find the ways and means for
transforming himself into a redskin.
"If we only had a Tovas Indian here," he says, "as I had that sleepy
Guaycuru, I'd not be long in changing clothes with him. Well, as we
can't borrow a dress, I must see what can be done to make one. Good
luck, there's no great quantity of cloth in a Tovas suit, and the
stitching isn't much. All that's needed is a bit of breech-clout, which
I can make out of the tail of my shirt; then the poncho over my
shoulders, that will cover everything."
"But the colour of your skin, Gaspar! Wouldn't that betray you?"
Ludwig thus interrogates, not thinking how easily the dexterous gaucho
can alter his complexion, nor recalling what he has said about his
having done so to disguise himself as a Guaycuru.
"It might," returns Gaspar; "and no doubt would, if I left it as it is;
which I don't intend doing. True, my face is not so fair as to need
much darkening, beyond what the sun has done for it. I've seen some
Tovas Indians with cheeks nigh as white as my own, and so have you,
senoritos. As for my arms, legs, and body, they'll require a little
browning, but as it so happens I've got the stuff to give it them.
After the service rendered me by a coat of that colour, you may trust
this gaucho never to go on any expedition over the pampas without a cake
of brown paint stowed away in some corner of his _alparejas_. For the
poncho, it won't be out of place. As you know, there are many of the
common kind among the Tovas Indians, worn and woven by them; with some
of better sort, snatched, no doubt, from the shoulders of some poor
gaucho, found straying too far from the settlements."
"But, Gaspar," says Ludwig, still doubting the possibility of the
scheme; "surely such a disguise as you speak of will never do? In the
daylight they'd see through it."
"Ah! in the daylight, yes, they might. But I don't intend giving them
that chance. If I enter their town at all, and I see no other way for
it, that entry must be made in the darkness. I propose making it
to-morrow evening, after the sun's gone down, and when it's got to be
late twilight. Then they'll all be off guard, engaged in driving their
animals into the _corrales_, and less likely to notice any one strolling
about the streets."
"But supposing you get safe into the place, and can go about without
attracting attention, what will you do?" questions Ludwig.
"What can you?" is the form in which Cypriano puts it.
"Well, senoritos, that will depend on circumstances, and a good deal on
the sort of luck in store for us. Still you mustn't suppose I'm
trusting all to chance. Gaspar Mendez isn't the man to thrust his hand
into a hornet's nest, without a likelihood--nay, a certainty, of drawing
some honey out of it."
"Then you have such certainty now?" interrogates Cypriano, a gleam of
hope irradiating his countenance. For the figurative words lead him to
believe that the gaucho has not yet revealed the whole of his scheme.
"Of course I have," is Gaspar's rejoinder. "If I hadn't we might as
well give everything up, and take the back-track home again. We won't
do that, while there's a chance left for taking the _muchachita_ along
with us."
"Never!" exclaims Cypriano, with determined emphasis. "If I have to go
into their town myself, and die in it, I'll do that rather than return
without my cousin."
"Be calm, _hijo mio_!" counsels Gaspar in a soothing tone, intended to
curb the excitement of the fiery youth; "I don't think there will be any
need for you either to enter the town, or lay down your life in it.
Certainly neither, unless my plan get spoiled by the ill luck that's
been so long hanging about us. It isn't much of a plan after all; only
to find one of the Indians, to whom I did a service when they were
living at their old place. I cured the man of a complaint, which, but
for the medicine I administered, would have carried him off to the happy
hunting grounds--where just then he didn't wish to go. That medicine
wasn't mine either. I had it from the _dueno_. But the sick man gave
me credit for it all the same, and swore if I ever stood in need of his
services, I could count upon receiving them, sure. From what I saw of
him afterwards, and we came to know one another pretty well, I think I
can. If ever there was a redskin to be trusted it's he. Besides, he's
one of some authority in the tribe--a sort of sub-chief."
"I know another," breaks in Ludwig, as if suddenly recollecting; "one
who'd help us too--if we could only have a word with him. That's
Nacena's brother, Kaolin."
Cypriano casts at his cousin a glance of peculiar meaning--something
like surprise. Not because the latter has made mention of an Indian
girl and her brother, both known to himself; but his giving the girl's
name first, as though she were uppermost in his thoughts. And she is;
though that is a secret the young naturalist has hitherto kept close
locked within his own breast.
Without noticing the glance of scrutiny bent upon him, he proceeds to
explain himself.
"You may remember, Kaolin and I were the best of friends. He often went
fishing with me, or rather I went with him. And I'm sure he'd stand by
me now, in spite of Aguara."
"So much the better," rejoins Caspar. "If my man fail me, we can fall
back upon yours. What I propose doing, then, is this. We must keep
quiet, and of course concealed, all day to-morrow till after sunset. We
can employ ourselves in the preparation of my masquerading costume.
When it comes on twilight, or a little later, I can slip down among
those _toldos_, and go sauntering about, like any other redskin, till I
find my old patient. He being a big fellow, there shouldn't be much
difficulty in doing that. When found I'll make appeal to him, to help
us in getting the _nina_ out of--" he has it on his tongue to say
"Aguara's clutches," but thinking of the effect of such a phrase falling
upon Cypriano's ears, he concludes with the words, "whatever place
they're keeping her in."
Caspar's scheme thus at length declared, seeming feasible enough--and
indeed the only one which any of them can think of as at all
practicable--the other two signify assent to it; and its execution, or
the attempt, is finally determined upon.
Going on to discuss the steps next best to be taken, they are
interrupted by the sound of footsteps--some one ascending from below!
The footfall is a light one, but distinct enough for them to tell, that
whoever makes it is continuing on towards them, though yet unseen. As
already said, the causeway is in part overshadowed by the cliff, and
within this shadow keeps the person approaching. For all, on the
footsteps drawing near, there is light enough for them to make out a
figure; the better from its being clad in a drapery of white, loose and
flowing, as though the wearer were a woman.
And so is she, or, to speak more correctly, a girl; her sex and age
revealed to them, as at a certain point she steps to the off side of the
path, and the moonlight falling upon her, exposes to their view a face
beautiful as youthful.
Gaspar and Cypriano both recognise the face, but say nothing. Different
Ludwig, who at the first glance got of it, unable to restrain himself,
mechanically mutters the name--
"Nacena!"