THE COUNCIL OF THE ULMENS.
The Indians, while collecting their dead, sought in vain the corpse of
the white man, and persuaded themselves that his comrades had carried
it off. The latter, on the other hand, reproached themselves bitterly
for having left their brother's body in the hands of the Pagans.
Now, what had become of Pedrito?
The bombero was one of those iron men, whom a powerful will leads to
their object, and whom death alone can conquer. He wished, therefore,
to be present at the council of the chiefs, the high import of which
he suspected; and instead of throwing his life away in an unequal
struggle, he found in Nocobotha's shot the pretext he was seeking. As
time pressed, he pretended, to be mortally wounded, and both friends
and enemies had been duped by his stratagem.
So soon as he had slipped down off his horse, by favour of the darkness
and combat, he was able, either by crawling like a lizard, or leaping
like a cougar, to hide himself in the hollow trunk of the tree of
Gualichu. There he buried himself beneath a pile of objects offered
by the devotion of the Indians, and was as safe as in the fortress of
Carmen. However, like a bold hunter, who has always time to be killed,
he had not thrown his weapons away. His first care was, without respect
for Gualichu, to wrap up his arm in a piece of cloth, in order to
prevent the flow of blood from his wound; then he arranged himself as
well as he could, with his head thrust slightly forward, to see the
scene that was about to take place.
All the chiefs were already assembled, and Lucaney, Ulmen of the
Puelches, was the first to speak.
"The Spaniard who dared to introduce himself among us, in order to
violate the secret of our deliberations, is dead; we are alone; let us
begin the ceremony."
"It shall be done, according to the desire of my brother, the Ulmen of
the Puelches," Nocobotha answered; "where is the wise matchi?"
"Here," said a tall, thin man, whose face was striped in different
colours, and who was dressed like a woman.
"Let the wise matchi approach and accomplish the rites."
"A matchitun is necessary," the sorcerer said, in a solemn voice.
The usual preparations for this conjuration were immediately made. Two
lances were planted, one on the right, one on the left of the sacred
tree; on the left hand one were hung a drum, and a vessel filled with
fermented liquor; twelve other vessels, containing the same liquor,
were ranged in a circle from one lance to the other. A sheep and a colt
were brought in, and deposited near the vessels, and two old squaws
placed themselves by the side of the drum. The preparations terminated,
the matchi turned to Nocobotha.
"Why does the Ulmen of the Aucas ask for the matchitun?" he asked.
Metipan stepped out of the circle.
"An hereditary hatred has for a long time separated the Aucas and
the Pehuenches," he said; "the interest of all the great nations
desires the end of this hatred. Kelzulepan, my ancestor, Ulmen of the
Pehuenches, carried off a white slave belonging to Medzeliputzi, Toqui
of the Aucas, and great grandfather of Nocobotha."
"Before the assembled chiefs, in the face of heaven, I have come to
tell Nocobotha, the descendant of Yupanqui, the son of the sun, that my
ancestor behaved badly to his, and I am ready, in order to extinguish
all discord, past, present, and future, to give him here a white,
young, lovely, and virgin slave."
"I give up, before Gualichu," Nocobotha answered, "the hatred which my
nation and I had sworn against you and yours."
"Does Gualichu approve our conduct?" Metipan asked.
The matchi seemed to reflect profoundly.
"Yes," he replied, "you have gained the protection of Gualichu; let the
white slave be brought up; perhaps he will demand that she should be
surrendered to him, instead of belonging to a man."
"His will be done," both Ulmens said.
Two warriors led up a girl of about seventeen, and placed her between
the lances, with her face turned to the tree of Gualichu. On seeing
her, Pedrito felt a cold perspiration break out all over him, and a
mist covered his eyes.
"Whence comes this strange emotion?" the bombero muttered to himself.
The girl's large black eyes had an expression of gentle melancholy.
She was dressed after the fashion of the Pehuenche women; the woollen
_quedito_ was rolled round her body, fastened on the shoulders by two
silver pins, and on her limbs by a _kepike_, or silken girdle, six
inches in width, and secured by a buckle. The two ends of a square
_pilken_, like a cloak, was fastened on her chest by a topu, adorned
with a magnificent head in gold. She had on her neck two collars of
beads, and on each of her arms four bracelets of glass, pearls, and
silver balls. Her long black hair was parted down the centre into two
tresses, tied up with blue ribbons, which floated on her shoulders,
and terminated in bells; on her head was a conical cap of blue and red
beads.
At this graceful apparition the Indians, who are very fond of white
women, could not, despite their natural stoicism, restrain a murmur of
admiration.
At a signal from the matchi the ceremony began. The two old squaws beat
the drum, while the spectators, guided by the sorcerer, struck up a
symbolical song while dancing round the captive.
The drum ceased with the song; then the matchi lit a cigar, inhaled the
smoke, and thrice perfumed the tree, the animals, and the maiden, whose
bosom he at the same time laid bare. He put his mouth to it and began
sucking till he drew blood, and the poor child made superhuman efforts
not to shriek. The dancing, accompanied by song, began again, and the
old women beat the drum with all the strength of their arms. Pedrito,
full of compassion for the innocent victim of Indian superstition,
longed to fly to her help.
In the meanwhile, the matchi, with his swollen cheeks, gradually became
more excited; his eyes grew bloodshot, he seemed possessed by the
demon, and all at once became furious; he writhed and behaved like an
epileptic. Then the dance ceased, and Metipan, with a stroke of his
machete, cut open the flank of the colt, tore out its still palpitating
heart, and gave it to the sorcerer, who sucked the blood, and employed
it to make a cross on the maiden's brow. The latter, suffering from
inexpressible terror, began to tremble violently.
The storm, which had been gathering in the clouds, at length broke out.
A blue flash shot athwart the sky, the thunder rolled with a terrible
din, and a blast of wind dashed over the plain, sweeping away the
toldos, the fragments of which it dispersed far and wide.
The Indians stopped, terrified by the storm. All at once a formidable
voice, that appeared to issue from the tree of Gualichu, uttered the
ill-omened words.
"Retire, Indians! My wrath is let loose upon you. Leave here this
miserable white slave as an expiation of your crimes! Fly, and woe to
those who look back. Woe! Woe!"
A livid flash and a violent peal of thunder served as peroration to
this harangue.
"Let us fly!" said the matchi, who in his terror was ready to believe
in his god.
But, profiting by this unexpected intervention to enforce his own
power, he continued--
"Fly, brothers! Gualichu has spoken to his servant. Woe to those who
resist his orders."
The Indians had no need of this recommendation from their sorcerer; a
superstitious terror lent them wings. They rushed tumultuously toward
the horses, and soon the desert echoed again with their wild flight.
The tree of Gualichu was deserted, and the maiden alone lay fainting on
the ground, with her bosom still bare.
When all was quiet on the Pampa, and the sound of the horses' gallop
was lost in the distance, Pedrito gently thrust his head out of the
tree, examined the black depths of the night, and reassured by the
silence, ran up to the girl. Pale as a beauteous lily laid low by the
storm, the poor girl had her eyes closed, and did not breathe. The
bombero raised her in his muscular arms, and transported her close to
the tree, laying her on a pile of skins belonging to a destroyed toldo.
He placed her cautiously on this softer couch, and her head hung
insensibly on his chest.
It was a strange group, in the midst of this devastated plain, only
illumined by the lightning flashes. This young and lovely girl, and
this rude wood ranger, offered a touching picture.
Pain and sorrow were delineated on Pedrito's face. He, whose whole life
had been but one long drama, who had no faith in his heart, who was
ignorant of gentle feelings and sweet sympathies, he, the bombero, the
slayer of Indians, was moved and felt something new stir within him.
Two heavy tears ran down his bronzed cheeks.
"Can she be dead? Oh Heaven!"
This name, which he had hitherto only used in blasphemy, he uttered
almost with respect. It was a sort of prayer and cry from his heart.
This man believed.
"How to help her?" he asked himself.
The rain that fell in torrents eventually restored the maiden, who,
half opening her eyes, murmured in a faint voice;
"Where am I? What has happened?"
"She speaks, she lives, she is saved," Pedrito exclaimed.
"Who is there?" she asked, raising herself with difficulty.
At the sight of the bombero's gloomy face, she had a fresh outburst of
terror, closed her eyes again, and fell back exhausted.
"Reassure yourself, my girl. I am your friend."
"My friend! What means that word? Have slaves any friends? Ah, yes,"
she continued, speaking as if in a dream, "I have suffered terribly.
Still I can remember long, long ago, being happy, but alas! The worst
misfortune is the recollection of past happiness in misery."
She was silent. The bombero gazed at her, and listened to her as if
suspended on her lips. That voice, those features! A vague suspicion
entered Pedrito's head.
"Oh, speak, speak again," he said, softening down the harshness of his
voice, "what do you remember of your youthful years?"
"Why think of past joys in misfortune? What does it avail?" she added,
shaking her head with discouragement. "My history is that of all
unfortunate persons. There was a time when, like other children, I had
the song of birds to lull me to sleep, flowers that smiled on me when
I awoke, and a mother who loved and embraced me--all that has fled
forever."
Pedrito had raised two poles covered with skins to shelter her from
the storm, which was gradually subsiding.
"You are kind, for you have saved me; still, your kindness was cruel,
for why did you not let me die? People who are dead no longer suffer.
The Pehuenches will return, and then--"
She did not conclude, and buried her face in her hands, with choking
sobs.
"Fear nothing, señorita; I will defend you."
"Poor man; alone against all! But before my last hour arrives, listen
to me, for I wish to relieve my heart. One day I was playing in my
mother's arms, my father was near us, with my two sisters and my four
brothers, resolute men who would not have feared twenty. Well! the
Pehuenches came up, they burned our estancia, for my father was a
farmer, they killed my mother, and--"
"Mercedes, Mercedes!" the bombero exclaimed, "Is it really you? Do I
find you again?"
"That was the name my mother gave me."
"It is I, Pedro, Pedrito, your brother," the bombero said, almost
shouting with joy, and clasping her to his bosom.
"Pedrito! My brother! Yes, yes, I remember. Pedrito, I am--"
She fell senseless into her brother's arms.
"Wretch that I am, I have killed her! Mercedes, my beloved sister,
come to yourself again, or I shall die."
The maiden opened her eyes again, and threw herself on the bombero's
neck, weeping with joy.
"Pedrito! My kind brother, do not leave me, defend me; they would kill
me."
"Poor girl, they will pass over my body before reaching you."
"They will do so," a sarcastic voice exclaimed behind the tent.
Two men appeared, Nocobotha and Pincheira. Pedrito, holding his sister,
who was half-dead with terror, with his left hand, leant against one of
the posts, drew his machete, and prepared for a vigorous defence.
Nocobotha and Pincheira, too enlightened to be the dupes of the
mysterious voice of Gualichu, and yield to the general panic, had,
however, fled with their comrades; but they had turned back unnoticed.
Curious to know the meaning of this enigma, and the author of the
mystification, they had listened to the entire conversation between
brother and sister.
"Well," Pincheira said, with a laugh, "you seem tolerably lively for a
dead man. It seems, Canario, that you must be killed twice, in order to
make sure that you will not recover. But, be easy, if my friend missed
you, I shall not do so."
"What do you want with me?" Pedrito said. "Let us pass."
"Not at all," Pincheira replied, "that would be rather too dangerous
an example. And stay," he added, after listening, "do you hear that
galloping? your affair is as good as settled, there are our _mosotones_
coming back."
In fact, the sound of a cavalcade momentarily drew nearer, and in the
pale gleam of dawn the dim outlines of numerous horsemen could be
distinguished in the distance. Pedrito saw that he was lost; he kissed
for the last time the pale brow of his unconscious sister, laid her
behind him, crossed himself, and prepared to die as a brave man should.
"Come," said Nocobotha, "let us have an end of this; it looks as if
this scoundrel were afraid of death."
"Make haste," Pincheira answered, "I hear our men, and if we do not
make haste, our prey will be torn from us."
"You did not fancy you were speaking so truly, Señor Pincheira," Pepe
exclaimed, suddenly appearing with his two brothers; "now, let us see
who is to be killed."
"Thanks, my brave brothers," Pedrito said joyously.
"Malediction!" Pincheira said with an oath, "Are these scoundrels
everywhere?"
"I will not have him escape me," Nocobotha muttered, as he bit his lips
till the blood came.
"Fie on you, caballeros," Pepe exclaimed ironically. "On guard, defend
yourselves like men, or I shall kill you like dogs."
The blades crossed, and the fight began with equal fury on both sides.