THE CHASE.
The unforeseen encounter with the mameluco had suddenly upset don
Diogo's course of ideas.
The inquisitive look which the ex-guide had cast at him as he passed,
the cry that he himself had, in the suddenness of his surprise, allowed
to escape--all these circumstances gave him much to think of.
The eye of hatred is piercing. The Indian did not conceal from himself
that the half-caste had in the depth of his heart a bitter hatred for
him, not only for the manner in which he had pursued him after his
departure from the camp, but because Diogo had in some respects taken
his place near the marquis.
What gave a little hope to the Indian was, that the meeting had
been so fortuitous, and at the same time so rapid, that, thanks to
his disguise, the completeness of which had deceived Emavidi Chaime
himself, it was almost impossible to recognise him without examination.
Diogo made a mistake, and he soon had a proof of it.
His very disguise had caused his enemy, if not to recognise, at least
to suspect him.
Now, the very morning of the day on which we again meet with him, two
hours before sunrise, Malco Diaz had had a rather long conversation
with Tarou Niom relative to the last arrangements agreed upon between
them.
During the course of this conversation, as Malco Diaz insisted that
the chief should attack the whites without more delay, the latter had
answered that he could not commence the assault before the arrival of
his allies, the Payagoas; that he did not wish by precipitation, which
nothing could justify, to compromise the success of an enterprise
so well managed up to that time; that for that matter the delay was
insignificant, and would not extend beyond a few hours, since he had
dispatched to Emavidi Chaime one of his most faithful warriors, the
Grand Sarigue, in order to urge him to make haste in joining them.
Malco took leave of the Guaycurus captain, and mounting immediately on
horseback, he proceeded towards the village, hoping every moment to
discover the Payagoas flotilla.
He was not likely to see the canoes--the reason we already know; only,
arrived at a certain spot, it seemed to him that he could distinguish
something, the appearance of which he thought very suspicious,
partially concealed in the reeds.
Malco Diaz was curious; he dearly liked to ascertain the cause of
things, and to find out the explanation of what he could not understand.
He approached the river with the design of assuring himself as to what
this doubtful object might be, in which he soon recognised a corpse.
The mameluco alighted, threw his lasso, drew out the corpse with it,
and contemplated it. His astonishment was great when in this mutilated
corpse, already half-devoured by the alligators, he recognised the
Grand Sarigue, that very warrior that Tarou Niom had a few hours before
dispatched to the Payagoas.
The half-caste left the corpse there without concerning himself about
it any further; he mounted his horse, and resumed his journey so much
the more rapidly as, since the messenger was dead, he had not been
able to fulfil his commission.
Only, who had killed the Grand Sarigue? In what way had this murder
been committed?
Following up these doubtful circumstances, he came across a horseman
coming from the village of the Payagoas, whither he himself was
proceeding, and from which he was scarcely a league distant, and,
strange to say, this horseman appeared the very man whom he had found
some moments since dead and half-devoured.
The affair became very embarrassing; the half-caste did not know what
to think; he asked himself whether he had not been deceived--if the
corpse he had discovered was really that of the Grand Sarigue?
All of a sudden a bright idea crossed his mind; there was evidently
treason, the man whom he had met wore a disguise!
One man only could have assumed with such rare skill another costume
and bearing. That man was Diogo.
As soon as this thought had occurred to Malco Diaz, it gave certainty
to his mind. Foaming with rage at having been so far duped, and burning
to revenge himself, he abruptly turned the bridle of his horse.
But while Malco was making these reflections, and had, by a course
of deduction, at last arrived at the truth, a considerable time had
passed--a time that the Indian had profited by planning and preparing
for a ruse which should aid him to escape.
Persons who do not know that noble and intelligent race, the horses of
the American desert, will, with difficulty, conceive even a distant
idea of the wonderful speed with which a pursuit in the desert is
executed.
When the horse has been incessantly excited, he feels the magnetic
influence of his horseman, and appears to identify himself with him,
and to understand his wishes.
Grand in his fury and energy, his eyes full of fire, his nostrils
spirting with blood, his mouth foaming, feeling neither bit nor bridle,
he seems to annihilate space, leaping ravines, scaling hills, crossing
rivers, overcoming all obstacles with a dexterity, skill, and velocity,
which pass all belief, animating himself on his journey, and by
degrees reaching a kind of mad and proud excitement, so much the more
beautiful, as he appears to understand that he may die in the desperate
battle in which he is struggling; but what matters if he attains the
end, and if his master is saved?
It was such a journey as that we have just described that at this
moment was maintained, shall we say, by the two horses, for their
horsemen, impelled by their implacable hatred, saw nothing and thought
of nothing.
Malco Diaz redoubled his efforts to regain the ground he had lost, but
in vain. He was alone, and his horse had attained the extreme limit of
his speed.
Woods succeeded to woods; hills to hills. Diogo was still invisible; he
appeared to have been suddenly engulphed, so wonderful was his rapid
disappearance.
If the half-caste was well mounted, the captain also had an excellent
horse.
Finally, after three hours of a desperate course, Malco Diaz arrived
at the summit of a little hill which he had ascended at a gallop, and
perceived far before him a cloud of dust which seemed to fly before the
hurricane.
He guessed it was his enemy, and afresh urged his horse, whose efforts
were already prodigious.
By degrees, whether it was that the horse that Diogo rode was more
fatigued than that of the half-caste, by reason of his long journey
on the previous night, or whether that of Malco Diaz was naturally
swifter, the latter perceived that he gained on his enemy.
The mameluco uttered a cry of joy, like the howl of a wild beast, and
seized his carbine.
Meanwhile, the journey was still continued, and afar off in the distant
horizon might be seen the hill on the summit of which the Brazilians
had encamped. No doubt, the sentinels of the whites posted on the trees
could distinguish, although indistinctly, the strange actors in this
extraordinary struggle.
It was necessary, then, to bring it to an end, so much the more as,
strange to say, the Guaycurus remained invisible, and thus allowed it
to be supposed that they had discovered the uselessness of a longer
blockade.
The solitude and abandonment on the part of his allies disquieted the
half-caste.
At last the distance between the two travellers became so little that
they would soon find themselves within pistol shot of each other.
Malco Diaz charged his carbine, shouldered it, and without slackening
his horse, fired.
Diogo's horse, struck in the body made a prodigious bound in advance,
reared convulsively on his hind legs, uttered a neigh of grief, and
fell backward, dragging his rider with him in his fall.
Malco slung his carbine and darted like a shot, with a cry of triumph,
on his enemy.
Leaping immediately to the ground, he darted towards him with a bound
like a tiger, and raised his poignard to finish him, in case he was not
quite dead.
But his arm fell powerless by his side, and he started back with a howl
of disappointment and rage.
At the same moment he was vigorously seized from behind, and stretched
upon the grass before he had even had the time to attempt to resist.
"Eh, eh, companion," said Diogo to him in a railing voice; "how do you
like that? It is well done, is it not?"
This is what had happened:--
Diogo had immediately decided that if he continued to fly in a straight
line, his enemy, mounted on a fresh horse, would not be long in
overtaking him, and that even if he escaped him, he would inevitably
fall into the hands of the Guaycurus.
He had then calculated his flight, so as to deviate by degrees in an
imperceptible manner at first, in order to avoid the spot where he
supposed their enemies had established their camp.
This first stratagem had completely succeeded. Malco Diaz, blinded by
the desire to overtake Diogo, had followed him in the tracks that he
had made, without caring to explain to himself the reasons for his
route.
When the Indian had arrived at the outskirts of a wood, he had jumped
to the ground, and with that remarkable dexterity which those of his
race possess, he had made a sham horseman with grass, and covered it
with the clothing which he himself wore; then, after having firmly
attached it to the back of the horse, under the saddle and to the
flanks of which he had placed piercing thorns, he had started the
animal off in the direction which he wished him to take.
As to himself, he continued his route on foot.
It was a few minutes after his coming out of the wood that Malco Diaz,
for the first time, perceived the horse that galloped so rapidly before
him.
This explanation that Diogo, with a saturnine air, gave to Malco,
further increased his fury.
"You have killed a horse that I loved--a noble beast, that I shall with
difficulty replace. I ought, then, to kill you, Malco; but I shall not
redden my knife with your blood."
"You would do wrong, Diogo," sullenly answered Malco, "for I swear to
you, that on the first opportunity I will kill you."
"You will act according to your instincts, Malco. I know that you are a
wicked man."
"I will kill you--I swear it by my share of paradise."
"Your share in paradise would appear to me very doubtful, my poor
friend; but that is not the question now."
"What do you mean to do, then, since you say you do not wish to kill
me?"
"What I promise I intend to perform, Malco; no, I will not kill you,
but I will place you in a position where it is impossible for you to
injure me."
The half-caste did not answer; he foamed with fury, and writhed like a
serpent on the ground.
"Keep still a moment, Malco," said the captain, peaceably; "you are
really very troublesome."
And so saying, he bound him firmly with his lasso, notwithstanding his
prodigious efforts to escape.
"There, it is finished," cried Diogo, when the last knot was tied. "Now
I have only to gag you."
"To gag me!" cried the half-caste; "To gag me! Why?"
"Why, my friend, I find you very innocent; permit me to tell you that
if I gag you, it is probably to prevent you from crying out."
There was a moment of silence. Malco reflected, and Diogo made a gag
with the care and attention that he brought to bear on all he did.
"How long do you think it will take to put yourself in safety?" asked
the half-caste.
"Why do you ask that question?" answered the captain, kneeling down
before him.
"What does it matter to you? Answer me frankly."
"If that can give you any pleasure, I am willing to do so, Malco. Two
hours will be long enough."
"Well, if I promise you to remain quiet where I am, without calling
out, would you gag me?"
"Hum!" said the captain; "A promise is a very vague thing, Malco, when
it concerns life or death."
"That is true, but if I made you that promise?"
Diogo shook his head with an embarrassed air.
"Come! Answer!" pursued Malco.
"Well, no! I could not accept it," said Diogo. "There, I tell you
plainly, it would be too dangerous."
"Wait," cried Malco, as he prepared to fix the gag.
Diogo stopped.
"Well, now," pursued Malco, "if, instead of this promise, I were to
give you my word of honour as a cavalheiro, what would you do?"
"Hum," answered the other, "but would you give it me?"
"Why do you ask that?"
"Because you would keep it, and you do not wish to enter into an
engagement with me."
"So you believe my word?"
"Certainly."
"Well, do not gag me, Diogo; I give it you."
"Come, you are jesting."
"By no means; I give you my word of honour to remain as I am--not for
two hours only, but for three--without stirring, and without offering a
cry."
"Indeed!" said the captain, looking at him full in the face; "Are you
serious?"
"Quite serious; is it agreed?"
"It is agreed," answered Diogo, and he threw away the gag.
Strange anomaly of character in certain men, and which is so often met
with, especially among the Brazilian half-castes; with them their word
is everything, nothing will induce them to break it.
Diogo knew so well that he could trust to that word, that he accepted
it without hesitation.
"I leave you, Malco," said he to him; "do not distress yourself too
much."
"Go to the devil; but remember that I have promised to kill you."
"Bah, bah!" answered the other; "You say that now because you are
furious. I suppose you think, as you have not succeeded against me
today, that you will be more fortunate another time."
"I hope so," said the half-caste, gnashing his teeth.
Diogo easily caught the horse, which was not very far off, and started
off.
As soon as the captain had reached the bank he abandoned the horse,
entered the water, and commenced to swim.
Although this river literally swarmed with alligators, the captain had
not hesitated to enter it. He knew by experience that alligators rarely
attack man.
The only thing he feared was to be perceived by the Indian sentinels,
who, without doubt, were in ambush in the neighbouring woods.
But luck did not desert him in this last and desperate effort.
Arrived at a short distance from the thicket he wished to reach, Diogo
glided between two streams. For that matter, this precaution was, let
us hasten to say, not necessary; it was not the river (on which they
had nothing to fear) that the Guaycurus watched, but only the hill
where their enemies were to be found.
Diogo glided then, without encumbrance, into the thicket, opened the
hole he had made to conceal his clothes, and drew them out with a
thrill of delight; but instead of clothing himself with them, he made a
packet of them, as well as of his arms, and again entered the river.
This mode of travelling appeared to him shorter and safer.
In order not to attract too much attention to himself, the captain had
enveloped his packet in palm leaves, and had fastened the whole upon
his head. Thus, as he swam, on the level of the water, this packet
appeared to be drifting gently with the current; from the bank, it had
completely the appearance of a mass of leaves and branches.
He soon reached the foot of the hill; there he was safe, and he could
only be seen by the persons whom chance might have brought to the other
bank.
After having calculated with a look the height he would have to ascend,
and elevating himself almost perpendicularly above the river, the
captain took in one hand his poignard, and in the other the knife
confided to him by Tarou Niom as a sign of recognition, and began,
with extreme ease and dexterity, to scale this kind of wall, planting
by turns his weapons in the fissures of the rocks, and then pulling
himself up by mere strength of wrist.
The ascent of the captain was long. At one time he remained suspended
between heaven and earth, without being able either to mount or
descend. But Diogo was a man endowed with too much coolness and courage
to despair; a moment of reflection made him perceive a declivity less
rough than that which he was pursuing.
Arrived on the platform of the hill, he made a halt for a moment to
take breath. His difficult expedition had, against all probability,
terminated happily; the information he had gained was important; all
then was for the best, and he inwardly congratulated himself, not on
the manner in which he had conducted this perilous affair, but on the
pleasure that his return would give his companions.
He then prepared himself, and again set out on his journey with a step
as free and as light as if he had not supported superhuman fatigues.
The sun was setting at the moment when the captain reached the summit
of the hill.
As soon as his return became known, all his companions pressed around
him with cries of joy, which awakened the marquis, and caused him to
run out.
The captain uttered an exclamation of surprise and of grief, at the
scene which presented itself to his eyes when he found himself within
the enclosure of the camp.
The tents and vehicles had been reduced to ashes; the greater part of
the mules, and a great number of the horses, had been killed; seven or
eight corpses of hunters and Negroes were lying here and there on the
ground; trees, half-burnt and lying in a confused mass, added still
more to the horror of this spectacle.
Doña Laura, having taken refuge, as well as she was able, under an
enramada,[1] exposed to the wind, and crouched sorrowfully before a
dying fire, was preparing, with the aid of Phoebe, the evening meal.
In fact, everything presented an aspect of ruin and desolation.
"Mon Dieu! What does all this mean?" cried he with grief.
"It means," answered the marquis, bitterly, "that you were not wrong,
Diogo."
"But has there, then, been a fight during my absence?"
"No; there has been a surprise; but come, Diogo, a moment with you
privately, and I will explain what has happened."
The captain followed him.
When they were out of sight of the Brazilians, the marquis commenced
his narrative.
Two hours after the departure of Diogo, a shower of burning arrows had
rained suddenly on the camp from all sides at once, and that in so
desperate a way that at first the Brazilians did not know where to run,
or in what manner to defend themselves. The fire had almost immediately
burst out with such an intensity that it was impossible to extinguish
it; a burning arrow having, unhappily, fallen in the waggon which
contained the powder, the vehicle was blown up, killing and wounding
several men.
The Guaycurus had profited by the fright of the Brazilians, to attempt
a furious assault, during which the remainder of the munitions had been
almost wholly expended.
Diogo sadly shook his head at this painful narrative; then he commenced
his own, which his companion listened to with profound attention.
When he had finished, there was a momentary pause.
"What do you recommend?" at last asked the marquis.
"The situation is almost desperate," decisively answered the captain.
"The most prudent course, in my opinion, would be to try a sortie; to
try and open a passage for ourselves."
"Yes," murmured the marquis, aside, "perhaps that would be better; but
I wish to wait a bit. I have dispatched a scout to gain information
about the enemy."
"You alone are master," answered Diogo, who had heard him; "but every
minute that passes takes away from us, believe me, several days of our
existence."
"Perhaps," violently cried the marquis, stamping with anger; "but we do
not know all yet. Can I not try to join Don Joachim Terraira?"
"Certainly, you can, your Excellency."
"Well!" cried he, with joy.
"Well! You will only succeed in causing us all to be massacred the
quicker--that is all."
After having uttered these words, the captain turned his back on the
marquis, and rejoined his companions.
[1] kind of tent made of branches.