THE JOURNEY.
After his interview with Don Tadeo, Valentine had scarcely taken time
to bid the young count farewell, but had instantly departed, followed
by Trangoil-Lanec and his inseparable Newfoundland dog.
The morning on which the sanguinary battle we have described was fought
in the Canyon del Rio Seco, Valentine and Trangoil-Lanec were marching
side by side, followed closely by Cæsar. The two men were talking
while they cracked a biscuit, which they washed down from time to time
with a little smilax water, contained in a gourd, which hung at the
girdle of Trangoil-Lanec.
"Why chief," said Valentine, laughing, "you drive me to despair with
your indifference."
"What does my brother mean?" the astonished Indian said.
"Caramba! We are traversing the most ravishing landscape in the world,
and you pay no more attention to all these beauties than to the granite
masses yonder in the horizon."
"My brother is young." Trangoil-Lanec observed: "he is an enthusiast."
"I do not know whether I am an enthusiast or not," replied the young
man, warmly; "I only know this--that nature is magnificent."
"Yes," said the chief, solemnly, "Pillian is great; it is he who made
all things."
"God, you mean, chief; but that is all one; our thought is the same,
and we won't quarrel about a name."
"In my brother's island," the Indian asked curiously, "are there no
mountains and trees?"
"I have already told you, chief, more than once that my country is not
an island, but a land as large as this; there is no want of trees,
thank God! There are even a great many, and as to mountains, we have
some lofty ones, Montmartre among the rest."
"Hum," said the Indian, not understanding.
"Yes!" Valentine resumed, "we have mountains, but compared to these
they are but little hills."
"My land is the most beautiful in the world," the Indian replied
proudly. "Why do the palefaces wish to dispossess us of it."
"There is a great deal of truth in what you say, chief."
"Good!" said the chief; "all men cannot be born in my country."
"That is true, and that is why I was born somewhere else."
Cæsar at this moment growled surlily.
"What is the matter, old fellow?" said Valentine.
Trangoil-Lanec remarked quietly--
"The dog has scented an Aucas."
So it was, for scarcely had he spoken, when an Indian horseman appeared
at the turning of the road. He advanced at full gallop towards the two
men, whom he saluted, and went on his way.
Shortly afterwards the travellers arrived, almost without being aware
of it, at the entrance of the village.
"So now, I suppose, we are at San Miguel?" remarked Valentine.
"Yes," the other replied.
"And is it your opinion that Doña Rosario is no longer here?"
"No," said the Indian, shaking his head. "Let my brother look around
him."
"Well," said the young man, turning his eyes in all directions, "I see
nothing."
"If the prisoner were here, my brother would see warriors and horses;
the village would be alive."
"Corbleu!" thought Valentine; "these savages are wonderful men; they
see everything, they divine everything. Chief," he added, "you are
wise; tell me, I beg of you, who taught you all these things."
The Indian stopped; with a majestic gesture he indicated the horizon to
the young man, and said, in a voice the solemn accent of which made him
start--
"Brother, it was the desert.
"Yes," the Frenchman replied, convinced by these few words; "for it is
there alone that man sees God face to face."
They now entered the village, and, as Trangoil-Lanec had said, it
seemed deserted. They saw a few sick persons, who, reclining upon
sheepskins, were complaining lamemtably.
"Caramba!" said Valentine, much disappointed, "you have guessed so
truly, Chief, that there are even no dogs to bite our heels."
All at once Cæsar sprang forward barking, and, stopping in front of
an isolated hut, began to munch the ground with his claws, uttering
furious cries.
The two men ran hastily towards the hut, and Cæsar continued his
howlings.