THE AMBUSCADE
Curumilla and his two companions descended the steep sides of the
Corcovado; if the ascent had been difficult, the descent was not
less so. Everywhere escaped thousands of hideous creatures; and
not unfrequently they caught glimpses of snakes, unfolding their
threatening rings under the dead leaves which on all sides covered the
ground. Sometimes they were obliged to crawl on their knees, at others
to jump from branch to branch.
This painful and fatiguing march lasted nearly three hours. At the end
of that time they found themselves again at the entrance of the grotto
where they had left their horses. The two white men were literally
knocked up, particularly the count. As for Curumilla, he was as fresh
and active as if he had not gone a step. Physical fatigue seems to have
no hold on the iron organisation of the Indians.
"My brothers require test," he said; "we will remain here for them to
recover their strength."
A half hour passed away without a word being exchanged. Curumilla had
disappeared for a time.
When he returned he drew from his belt a small box which he presented
to the count, saying, "Take this."
"Oh!" cried Don Tadeo, joyfully, "coca!"
"Yes," said the Indian, "my father can take some."
"What is all that to do?" said the count.
"My friend," said Don Tadeo, "America is the promised land; its
privileged soil produces everything: as we have the herb of Paraguay,
which is so good a substitute for tea, we have coca, which, I assure
you, advantageously supplies the place of the betel, and has the
faculty of restoring the strength and reviving the courage."
"The deuce!" said the young man. "You are too serious, Don Tadeo,
to leave me for an instant to suppose you wish to impose upon my
credulity; give me quickly, I beg, some of this precious drug."
Don Tadeo held out to the count the coca he had prepared. The latter
put it into his mouth without hesitation. Curumilla, after having
carefully reclosed the box and returned it to his belt, saddled the
horses. All at once a sharp firing was heard.
"What is all that?" Louis cried, springing up.
"The fight beginning," Curumilla replied coolly.
At that moment the cries became redoubled.
"Come!" said Don Tadeo; "one hour's delay cannot cause any great harm
to my daughter."
"To horse, then," said the chief.
As they drew nearer, the noise of the fierce fight that was raging in
the defile became more distinct; they recognised perfectly the war cry
of the Chilians mixed with the howlings of the Araucanos; now and then
bullets were flattened against the trees, or whizzed around them.
"Halt!" cried the Ulmen suddenly.
The horsemen checked their horses, which were bathed in sweat.
Curumilla had conducted his friends to a place which entirely commanded
the outlet of the defile on the side of Santiago. It was a species of
natural fortress, composed of blocks of granite, strangely heaped upon
one another by some convulsion of nature, perhaps an earthquake. These
rocks, at a distance, bore a striking resemblance to a tower; and their
total height was about thirty feet. In a word, it was a real fortress,
from which a siege might be sustained.
"What a fine position," Don Tadeo observed.
They dismounted: Curumilla relieved the horses of their equipments, and
let them loose in the woods. A slight movement was heard from among the
leaves, the boughs of the underwood parted, and a man appeared. The
Ulmen cocked his gun. The man who had so unexpectedly arrived had a
gun thrown on his back, and he had in his hand a sword, crimson to the
hilt. He ran on, looking around him on all sides, not like a man who
is flying, but, on the contrary, as if seeking for somebody. Curumilla
uttered an exclamation of surprise, quitted his hiding place, and
advanced towards the newcomer.
"I was seeking my father," he said earnestly.
"Good!" Curumilla replied; "here I am."
"Let my son follow me," said Curumilla, "we cannot stay here."
The two Indians climbed the rocks, at the summit of which Don Tadeo and
the young count had already arrived.
The two whites were surprised at the presence of the newcomer, who
was no other than Joan; but the moment was not propitious for asking
explanations; the four men hastened to erect a parapet. This labour
completed, they rested for a while.
"When I saw," he said, "that the prisoner had succeeded in escaping, in
spite of the valiant efforts of the men who escorted him. I thought it
would be best you should be acquainted with this news, and I plunged
into the forest, and came in search of you."
"Oh!" said Don Tadeo, "if that man is free, all is lost."
The four men placed themselves, gun in hand, on the edge of the
platform. The number of the fugitives increased every instant. The
whole plain, just before so calm and solitary, presented one of the
most animated spectacles. From time to time men were to be seen
falling, many of them never to rise again; others, more fortunate,
who were only wounded, made incredible efforts to rise. A squadron
of Chilian horsemen came out at a gallop, driving before them the
Araucanos, who still resisted. In advance of this troop a man mounted
on a black horse, across the neck of which a fainting woman was
reclining, was riding with the rapidity of an arrow. He gained ground
constantly upon the soldiers.
"It is he," cried the Don, "it is the general."
At the same time the count and Curumilla fired. The horse stopped
short, reared perfectly upright, fought the air with its forefeet,
appeared to stagger for an instant, and then fell like lead, dragging
its rider down with it.
The Indians, struck with terror at this unexpected attack, redoubled
their speed, and fled across the plain.