BEFORE THE FIGHT.
As soon as they had set foot on the platform, Don Tadeo and the count
sank exhausted. Curumilla left them undisturbed for a few minutes to
recover their breath, then requested them to look around them. Beneath
their feet was the Canyon del Rio Seco, with its imposing granite
masses and its thick clumps of verdure.
"Oh!" Louis exclaimed, enthusiastically, "how splendid this is!"
Don Tadeo, accustomed from his infancy to such sublime panoramas,
only cast an absent glance over the magnificent prospect. His mind
was intent upon his daughter, the beloved child whom he hoped soon to
deliver.
"Are we going to remain here long?" he asked.
"For a few minutes," Curumilla replied.
"What is the name of this place?" the count said.
"It is the peak which the palefaces call the Corcovado." said the Ulmen.
"The one upon which you appointed to light the signal fire?"
"Yes; let us hasten to prepare it."
The three men constructed an immense pile of wood.
"Now," said Curumilla, "rest, and do not stir till my return."
And without entering into further detail, Curumilla sprang down the
steep declivity of the mountain, and disappeared among the trees. The
two friends sat down near the pile, and waited pensively the return
of the Ulmen. The troop commanded by Joan approached the defile,
simulating all the movements of Indians, and were soon within gunshot
of the Canyon. Antinahuel had perceived them, and had for some time
been watching their movements. Notwithstanding all his cunning, the
Toqui did not for an instant suspect a stratagem. The presence of Joan
at the head of the troop, whom at the first glance he had recognised,
completed his conviction.
Joan plunged into the defile without evincing the least hesitation; but
scarcely had he proceeded a dozen yards when an Indian sprang out of a
thicket, and stood in front of him. This Indian was Antinahuel himself.
"My son comes late," said the Toqui, casting a suspicious glance at him.
"My father will pardon me," Joan replied, respectfully; "I had notice
only last night."
"Good," continued the chief; "I know my son is prudent. How many lances
does he bring with him?"
"A thousand."
As may be perceived, Joan bravely doubled the number of his soldiers.
"Oh! oh!" said the Toqui, joyfully, "a man may be pardoned for coming
late when he brings so numerous a troop with him."
"My father knows I am devoted," the Indian replied.
"I know you are; my son is a brave warrior. Has he seen the Huincas?"
"I have seen them."
"Are they far distant?"
"No; they are coming--in less than three-quarters of an hour they will
be here."
"We have not an instant to lose. My son will place his warriors in
ambush."
"Good! It shall be done; my father may leave it to me."
At this moment the troop of false Indians appeared at the entrance of
the defile, into which they boldly entered, after the example of their
leader.
"My son will use all possible diligence," said Antinahuel, and hastened
back to his post.
Joan and his men went forward at full gallop; they were watched by from
a thousand to fifteen hundred invisible spies, who, at the smallest
suspicion, created by a doubtful gesture even, would have massacred
them without mercy.
Joan, after having made his men dismount and conceal their horses in
the rear, distributed them with a calmness and collectedness that must
have banished the suspicions of the chief. Ten minutes later the defile
appeared as solitary as before. Joan had scarcely gone six paces into
the thicket when a hand was laid upon his shoulder. He turned sharply
round; Curumilla was before him.
"Good!" the latter murmured, in a voice low as a breath; "let my son
follow me with his men."
Joan nodded assent, and with extreme precaution and in perfect silence
three hundred soldiers began to escalade the rocks in imitation of the
Ulmen. The three hundred men led by Joan, who had escaladed the wall
of the defile on the opposite side of the canyon, were divided into
two troops. The first had taken up a position above Black Stag, and
the second, a hundred strong, were massed as a rear post. As soon as
Curumilla had prepared the manoeuvre we have just described, he quitted
Joan and rejoined his companions.
"At last!" they cried, both in a breath.
"I began to be afraid something had happened to you, chief," said the
count.
Upon which Curumilla only smiled. "Everything is ready," he said; "and
when the palefaces please, they can penetrate into the defile."
"Do you think your plan will succeed?" Don Tadeo asked anxiously.
"I hope it will," the Indian replied.
"What are we to do now?"
"Light the fire, and depart."
"How depart? Our friends?"
"They stand in no need of us; as soon as the fire is alight we will set
out in search of the young maiden."
"God grant that we may save her!"
Curumilla, after lighting a bit of tinder which he had in a horn box,
collected with his feet a heap of dried leaves, placed the tinder
beneath them, and began to blow with all his might. The fire, acted
upon by the breeze, which at that height blew strongly, was rapidly
communicated, and shortly a thick column of flame mounted roaring to
the sky.
"Good!" said Curumilla to his companions; "they see the signal."
"Let us begone, then, without delay," cried the count, impatiently.
"Come on, then," said Don Tadeo.
The three men plunged into the immense virgin forest which covered the
summit of the mountain, leaving behind them that sinister beacon--a
signal for murder and destruction. On the plain, Don Gregorio, fearing
to advance before he knew what he had positively to trust to, had given
orders to his troops to halt. He did not conceal from himself the
dangers of his position, so that if he fell in the battle he was about
to fight, his honour would be safe and his memory without reproach.
"General," he said, addressing Cornejo, who as well as the senator was
close to him, "you are accustomed to war, are an intrepid soldier, and
I will not conceal from you that we are in a position of peril.
"Oh! oh!" said the general; "explain, Don Gregorio, explain!"
"The Indians are in ambush in great numbers, to dispute the passage of
the defile with us."
"The rascals! Only see now! Why, they will knock us all on the head,"
the general, still calm, said.
"Oh! it is a horrible trap!" the senator cried.
"Caspita! a trap, I believe it is, indeed!" the general continued. "But
you will be able to give us your opinion presently; if, as is not very
probable, you come safely through, my friend."
"But I will not go and run my head into that frightful fox's hole!"
cried Don Ramón, beside himself.
"Bah! you will fight as an amateur, which will be very handsome on your
part."
"Sir," said Don Gregorio, coldly, "so much the worse for you; if you
had remained quietly at Santiago, you would not be in this position."
"That is true, my friend," the general followed up, with a hearty laugh.
"How did it happen that you, who are as great a coward as a hare,
troubled yourself with military politics?"
The senator made no reply to this cruel apostrophe.
"Whatever may happen, can I reckon upon you, general?" Don Gregorio
asked.
"I can only promise you one thing," the old soldier answered, nobly;
"that I will not shrink, and if it should come to that, will sell
my life dearly. As to this cowardly fellow, I undertake to make him
perform prodigies of valour."
At this threat the unhappy senator felt a cold sweat inundate his whole
body. A long column of flame burst from the top of the mountain.
Don Gregorio cried, "Caballeros! Forward! and God protect Chili!"
"Forward!" the general repeated, unsheathing his sword.