THE TREE OF GUALICHU.
As a general rule, the Southern natives have a divinity, or to speak
more correctly, a genius, sometimes benevolent, but more frequently
maleficent, and their worship is less veneration than fear. This genius
is called Achellenat Kanet by the Patagonians, Quecuba by the Aucas,
and Gualichu by the Puelches. And, as the latter have more especially
traversed the country in which the sacred, tree stands, they have
perpetuated the name of their evil genius by giving it to the tree, to
which they attribute the same power.
The belief in Gualichu dates back to the most remote antiquity on the
Pampas.
This wicked god is simply a stunted tree, which, if mingled with other
trees, would not have attracted attention; but which alone, and as
it were lost in the immensity of the plains, serves as a beacon to
the traveller wearied by a long journey across these oceans of sand.
It rises to a height of thirty-five or forty feet, all twisted and
prickly, and its withered trunk is rounded into a large cavity, in
which men and women lay their presents in tobacco, beads, and corn. It
is several centuries old, and belongs to that species of the acacia
family which the Hispano-Americans designate by the name of _Algarobo_.
The wandering hordes of Indians, doubtless struck by the solitude
of this tree in the midst of the deserts, constituted it the object
of their worship. In fact, its branches are covered with various
offerings, many of some value: here a poncho, there a manta; farther on
woollen or cotton ribbons; while on all sides garments, more or less
injured and torn by the wind, are affixed to the thorns, which gives
this sacred tree the appearance of an old clothes' shop. No Indian,
whether Aucas, Patagonian, Puelche, or Tehuetche, would venture to pass
it without leaving something; and the man who has nothing else cuts off
his horse's mane and fastens it to the tree. The most precious offering
in the sight of the Indians is that of their horse; and hence the great
number of slaughtered horses round the tree attests the vitality of
their faith.
The religion of the Southern natives, thoroughly primitive and spared
by the conquest, does not take the moral being into account, and is
only arrested by accidents of Nature, of which it makes gods. These
people strive to make the deserts, where fatigue and thirst produce
death, and the rivers that may swallow them up, favourable to them.
At the foot of the tree of Gualichu, a few hours after the events
already narrated, a strange scene was taking place, rendered still more
striking by the density of the darkness, and by the storm which was
approaching. Heavy black clouds rolled athwart the sky; the wind blew
in gusts with a shrill whistle, and large drops of rain fell on the
sand.
Around the sacred tree the Indians had improvised a village composed of
some forty toldos raised hastily and without regularity. Before each
toldo crackled a bright fire, round which two or three Indian squaws
were crouching to warm themselves, without taking their eye off the
hobbled horses which were devouring their stock of _alfalfa_.
An immense fire, resembling a funereal pyre, flamed a few paces from
the tree of Gualichu, and was surrounded by twenty Indians, who stood
apathetic and contemplative, and whose grand war paint led to the
supposition that they were preparing for an important ceremony of their
worship.
Suddenly a shrill whistle cleft the air, and announced the arrival of
two horsemen; one of them dismounted, and threw his horse's bridle to
his comrade, and walked into the circle formed by the warriors. This
man wore the uniform of an officer of the Chilian army.
"I salute my brothers," he said, looking round him, "may Gualichu
protect them."
"Salutation to Pincheira," the Indians responded; "are all the chiefs
assembled?" he continued.
"All," a voice replied, "with the exception of Nocobotha, the grand
Toqui of the Aucas."
"He will not be long; let us wait."
The silence had been scarce established, ere a second whistle was
heard, and two fresh horsemen entered the circle of light projected by
the fires.
Only one man dismounted. He was tall and fierce-looking, and dressed in
the costume of the Aucas warriors, the most civilized and intelligent
Indian nation in the whole of South America. These were the men who,
almost unarmed, repulsed Almagro and his cuirassed soldiers in 1555,
who triumphed over the unhappy Valdivia, and who, though constantly
fought by the Spaniards, were never vanquished. The Aucas offered an
asylum to the Incas whom Pizarro hunted like wild beasts, and who, as a
reward for their hospitality, introduced among these Indians their own
advanced civilization. By degrees the two nations became fused, and
their hatred of the Spaniards has been perpetuated up to our day.
The warrior who had first entered the circle of Indian chiefs, was one
of the most perfect types of this indomitable race; all his features
bore the distinctive character of the haughty Incas, who were so long
masters of Peru. His costume, differing from that of the Patagonians,
who employ the skins of beasts, was composed of woollen cloth striped
with silver. A blue _chaman_ covered his body from the waist, where
it was fastened with a woollen girdle down to the knee; in this way
exactly resembling the _chilipa_ of the gauchos, who borrowed from the
Indians this garment and the short blue and red striped poncho; his
boots armed with silver spurs, and cleverly sewn with the tendons of
animals, were made of the tanned hide of the _guemul_, a species of
llama; his hair was divided at the back of the head into three tails,
fastened together at the end with a tuft of wool, while in front the
rest of his hair was raised and fastened with a blue ribbon, which,
after three turns, fell on one side, and terminated in small pieces
of rolled up silver. His brow was girt by a circle of massive gold, a
species of diadem, three inches in width, and in the centre of which
sparkled a sun composed of precious stones; a diamond of enormous
value hung from each of his ears; his cloak of guanaco skins which fell
down to the ground, was held on his shoulders by a silk cord, and was
fastened with a diamond. Two six-chambered revolvers glistened in his
waist belt; on his right hip hung a machete, or short sabre with a very
wide blade, and he held in his hand a double-barrelled rifle.
This warrior, on his arrival, created a lively sensation among the
chiefs; all bowed before him respectfully, while murmuring with
delight--
"Nocobotha! Nocobotha!"
The warrior smiled proudly, and took his place in the first rank of the
chiefs.
"The nacurulu (_Bubo Magellanicus_) has sung twice," he said; "the
osprey of the Rio Negro has raised its melancholy cry; the night is
drawing to a close; what have the chiefs of the great nations resolved?"
"It would be useful, I think," one of the Indians answered, "to implore
the protection of Gualichu for the council."
"The advice of my brother, Metipan, is wise. Let the _matchi_ be
warned."
While a chief went off to fetch the matchi, or sorcerer, another chief
quitted the circle, went up to Nocobotha, whispered something to him,
and then returned to his place. The Toqui of the Aucas laid his hand
on his machete, and shouted in a loud and menacing voice--
"A traitor is among us! Attention, brothers."
A shudder of passion ran through the ranks, and each Indian looked at
his neighbour.
"He must die!" they shouted unanimously.
"It is well," Nocobotha answered.
These words, spoken in Indian, must reach the traitor's ear as a
vain sound, for the Aucas dialect is not generally understood by the
Spaniards.
Still, a man, clothed like the other chiefs, and protected by the
darkness, suddenly bounded far out of the circle, and uttered three
different times the hoarse croak of the urubús. He leant against the
trunk of the tree of Gualichu, and with his legs far apart, and a
pistol in each hand, waited. This man was Pedrito, the bombero.
A living wall, formed of hundreds of Indians, rose in arms before him,
and menaced him from all sides. Pedrito, to whom flight was impossible,
frowned, gnashed his teeth, and foamed with rage.
"I am waiting for you, dogs," he yelled.
"Forward! Forward!" the Indians shouted.
"Silence!" Nocobotha ordered in a rough voice. "I wish to question
him."
"What good is it?" Pincheira remarked, with a hateful expression. "He
is one of those rats of the Pampa, whom the Spaniards call bomberos. I
recognize him. Let us kill him at once."
"A bombero," the Indians yelled anew. "Death to him, death."
"Silence," said Nocobotha, "who dares to interrupt?"
At the command of the master silence was reestablished.
"Who are you?" the Toqui asked the bombero; "Who are you?" Pedrito
replied with a grin, and crossing his arms, though he did not let go
his pistols.
"Answer, if you would not die; you are in my power."
"A brave man only belongs to himself. He has always the resource of
letting himself be killed."
"Perhaps so."
"Try to take me."
"Surrender, and no harm will be done you."
"A bombero never surrenders."
"Why did you introduce yourself among us."
"¡Canario! I came to witness your Indian jugglery, and learn the object
of this nocturnal meeting."
"You are frank, at any rate, and I will take that into consideration.
Come! Resistance would be useless, so surrender."
"Are you mad, my master?"
"Forward!" Nocobotha, who was boiling with rage, shouted to the Indians.
The latter rushed on. Two pistol shots were fired, and two Indians
writhed on the sand. While the others hesitated, Pedrito returned his
pistols to his belt, and drew his machete.
"Make way," he shouted.
"Death!" the warriors repeated.
"Way, way!"
And Pedrito dashed at the Indians, hitting right and left, cutting
and pointing. Nocobotha threw himself in his path, with the roar of a
wounded lion.
"Ah, ah," said the bombero, "my worthy chief, with the diamond sun, it
is our turn."
All at once three shots were fired behind the Indians, and three
horsemen dashed upon them, scattering terror and death around. The
Indians, not knowing how many enemies they had to contend with,
believed, owing to the darkness and the number of dead, that a
considerable reinforcement had arrived, and began dispersing in all
directions, with the exception of the more resolute, who held their
ground and continued to resist the assailants. Among these were
Nocobotha, Pincheira, and a few renowned chiefs.
The three bomberos, summoned by the hoarse croaking of Pedrito, had
hastened up to their brother; they helped him to get onto the saddle of
the horse they had brought up for him.
"Ah!" they shouted, "Down with the Indian dogs!"
Nocobotha dealt the Spaniard a blow with the machete, to which he
responded by a cut that scarred his adversary's face. The Toqui uttered
a cry, not of pain but of rage.
"Eh," the bombero said to him, "I shall recognize you, if ever we meet
again, for you bear my marks."
"Villain!" the chief said, as he fired a pistol at him.
"Ah!" Pedrito muttered in his turn, as he sank in his saddle.
He would have fallen had not his sword prevented him.
"He has killed me," the wounded man said, in a faint voice. "Courage,
brothers, do not leave my corpse to them."
The three bomberos, supporting their brother, redoubled their ardour to
get him away from inevitable destruction; but how were they to fly?
The Indians, when the first moment of panic had passed, being able to
count their enemies, returned to the charge and threatened to overwhelm
them by their numbers. The position was horrible, and Pedrito, who had
retained his coolness, understood that his brothers were about to ruin
themselves for him, so, sacrificing his life to save them, he shouted--
"Fly! Leave me alone here; in a few minutes I shall be dead."
"No!" they replied, making their horses prance to ward off the blows,
"We will all get away or perish together."
Pedrito, who knew his brothers, was not ignorant that their resolution
was unbending.
The fight was going on at this moment, two yards at the most from the
tree of Gualichu, Pedrito, while his brothers were defending themselves
on all sides at once, slipped down to the ground, and when the bomberos
turned round, they found his horse without its rider. Pedrito had
disappeared.
"He is dead, what is to be done?"
"Obey him, as we were unable to save him," Juan answered.
"Forward, then!"
And all three, tearing up their horses' sides with their spurs,
bounded into the thick of the Indians. The collision was terrible;
still, a few seconds later, the bomberos, saved from danger by their
incredible audacity, were flying, like the wind, in three different
directions, while uttering cries of triumph.
The Indians recognized the inutility of a pursuit across the sand; so
they contented themselves with picking up their dead and counting the
wounded, altogether some thirty victims.
"These Spaniards are perfect demons, when they are obstinate,"
Pincheira said, remembering his own origin.
"Yes," Nocobotha answered him, mad with fury, "if ever I place my foot
on their chest, they will expiate the wrongs they have done my race for
centuries."
"I am entirely devoted to you," Pincheira continued.
"Thanks, my friend. When the hour arrives, I shall remind you of your
promise."
"I shall be ready; but at present what are your designs?"
"The scar that madman has made on my head compels me to fire the train
as soon as possible."
"Do so, I pray; and let us finish with these accursed Spaniards so soon
as we can."
"Then you really hate your countrymen?"
"I have an Indian heart, and that is saying enough."
"I will soon procure you the opportunity to slake your vengeance."
"May heaven hear you!"
"But the chiefs have again assembled round the council fire; come,
brother."
Nocobotha and Pincheira approached the tree of Gualichu, where the
Indians were grouped, motionless, silent, and calm, as if nothing had
disturbed their gathering.