FIRST HOURS OF CAPTIVITY.
Trangoil-Lanec had not been deceived, it was really Don Tadeo whom
he had seen galloping by the side of the Toqui. The King of Darkness
was not dead, he was not even wounded, but he was the prisoner of
Antinahuel.
After Don Tadeo saw his faithful followers fall one after the other
by his side, and he was left alone, he still continued fighting. It
was then that he heard the cries of encouragement from Valentine and
the count. Antinahuel had also heard the shouts of the Frenchmen, and
on seeing the incredible efforts they made to succour their friend,
he perceived that if he delayed the capture, his prey would escape
him; hence he tore off his poncho and threw it skilfully over the head
of Don Tadeo, who, blinded and embarrassed in the folds of the ample
woollen vestment, was disarmed.
Antinahuel, whilst flying with the swiftness of an arrow, contrived to
rally around him a good number of horsemen, so that at the end of about
twenty minutes, he found himself at the head of five hundred warriors.
The Toqui formed of these warriors a compact squadron, and turning
round several times, like a tiger pursued by the hunters, he charged
the Chilian horse vigorously. When arrived at a certain distance, and
the conquerors had renounced the pursuit, he stopped to look after his
prisoner, and allow his troop to take breath.
Since his capture Don Tadeo had given no signs of life, and Antinahuel
feared with reason that, deprived of air, and shaken by the rapidity
and roughness of the course, he should find him in a dangerous state.
He hastened to untie the lasso, the numerous twists of which cut the
prisoner in all parts of his body, and then took off the poncho which
covered him--Don Tadeo had fainted. Want of air alone caused this
result, so that as soon as he breathed freely he opened his eyes. At
this happy result a smile of indefinable meaning lighted the features
of the Toqui for a second.
Don Tadeo cast around a look of astonishment, and appeared to sink into
deep reflection; memory, however, returned by degrees, he recollected
what had taken place, and how he came into the hands of the chief. He
rose crossed his arms upon his breast, and looking steadfastly at the
great chief--waited.
"Does my father feel himself better?"
"Yes," Don Tadeo replied laconically.
"Can we then set on again?"
"Is it for me to give you orders?"
"If my father were not sufficiently recovered to sit on horseback we
would wait a little."
"Oh, oh!" said Don Tadeo.
"I should be very sorry if any inconvenience befell my father."
Don Tadeo shrugged his shoulders disdainfully, and Antinahuel resumed--
"We are about to depart; will my father give me his word of honour not
to attempt to escape? If he do so, I will allow him to be free amongst
us."
"Will you have faith in my word?"
"I am but a poor Indian, my father is a caballero."
"Before I reply, tell me whither you are taking me."
"I am taking my father to the country of the Puelches, my brothers."
A feeling of joy rushed into the prisoner's heart, he should see his
daughter.
"How long is this journey likely to last?"
"Only three days."
"I give you my word of honour not to attempt to escape for three days."
"Good," the chief replied, in a solemn voice.
"When my father is ready, we will depart," Antinahuel said.
Don Tadeo mounted, the Toqui followed his example, and the troop set
off at a smart pace.
The sun had sunk low in the horizon when the chief commanded a halt.
The spot was admirably chosen; it was a narrow valley, situated on
the not very high summit of a hill, the position of which rendered a
surprise almost impossible.
Antinahuel seemed to have forgotten his hatred for Don Tadeo; he spoke
to him with the greatest deference. Confiding in his word of honour,
he left him entirely free. As soon as the repast was terminated,
sentinels were placed, and everyone sought repose. Don Tadeo in vain
courted sleep, for a too powerful anxiety devoured him to allow him to
close his eyes. Seated at the foot of a tree, his head reclining on his
breast, he passed the whole night in reflecting upon the strange events
which for some months passed had assailed him.
The rising sun found him plunged in these sad thoughts, and sleep had
not for an instant closed his weary eyelids. But everybody was in
motion in the camp; the horses were saddled, and after a hasty repast
the march was continued. The day passed away without any incident
worthy of being recorded. In the evening they encamped, as they had
done the night before, on the summit of a hill; the sole difference was
that, as the Araucanos now knew themselves to be beyond the danger of a
surprise, they did not take such great precautions as on the preceding
occasion; but still they raised entrenchments.
Don Tadeo, overcome by fatigue, sank into a leaden sleep, from which he
was not roused till the moment for departure.