EXPLANATIONS.
The fire had been lighted; the four men, conquered by sleep, and fatigued by the struggle which they had had with the lions, were wrapped in their ponchos and their blankets, and were not long in getting to sleep.
When the sun appeared on the horizon, the four men awoke nearly at the same time.
Zeno Cabral, thanks to the repose that he had taken, had recovered, and, apart from some feebleness of speech, he awoke fresh, and in a condition to continue his journey.
The first care of the Montonero on awaking was to rise and run to his horse, which he began carefully to groom, and then gave him some provender.
This duty accomplished, the young man returned to his companions, who had carelessly and without curiosity noticed his movements.
As to the painter, he had drawn from his game bag some palomas, had plucked them, and spitting them on the ramrod of his gun, had placed them over the fire, placing at the same time some sweet potatoes on the hot embers.
The Frenchman was thinking of refreshment; the events of the night had sharpened his appetite, and made him ready for breakfast.
The great haste which the Montonero had exhibited with regard to his horse was but a pretext for him to put his ideas in order, and to prepare to answer questions which the Indian chiefs would no doubt put to him. The surprise that they had manifested on seeing that he knew Don Emile had not escaped him; he did not wish to give them time for their doubts to change into suspicions; he knew the instinctive distrust of the Indians, and it was of the greatest importance to him not to arouse it; he therefore resolved to confront the difficulty so as to avoid disagreeable remarks.
"Eh, Don Emile!" said he gaily to the young painter, taking his seat by his side; "You are a man of precaution, it seems to me that's a succulent breakfast that you are preparing there."
"A breakfast of which you and these caballeros will take part, I hope," graciously answered the young man.
"As to me, I accept your offer with the greatest pleasure; but," added he, changing his tone, "will you permit me to ask you a question?"
"Two, if you like, señor."
"You will pardon this apparent indiscretion, for which the interest I have in you is the only excuse."
"I am persuaded of it, señor; but you can speak. I have not, thank God, occasion to fear any indiscretion."
"If that is the case—and I congratulate you on it—I will explain myself without fear."
"Pardieu!" said Emile, turning the spit on which he was concentrating all his attention; "Speak, my dear sir; do not hesitate the least in the world."
The two chiefs, apparently indifferent to this conversation, which they understood perfectly, for it was carried on in Spanish, listened attentively to it.
"In the first place," pursued the Montonero, "let me express my astonishment at meeting you here, when I thought you were very far off."
"The matter is very simple however. After the storm that had assailed us near the Valle del Tambo, when you had left us as well as Señor Pincheyra, I confess that my companions and I were much embarrassed."
"What! Señor Don Pablo Pincheyra left you suddenly?" cried the Montonero, feigning surprise.
"Mon Dieu! Yes," answered the young man, good naturedly; "he pretended that we were too far from his camp for his escort to be useful to us, and that, since you thought fit to attend to your affairs, he did not see any reason why he should not attend to his; and thereupon made us his compliments, and went away—of which, between ourselves, I was very glad, for notwithstanding all the courtesy which Don Pablo has manifested towards us, his company, I confess, was not at all agreeable to me."
"But the persons with whom I had set out from the camp of Casa-Frama, and whom I had commended to you before my departure?"
"Señor Don Pablo did not concern himself with them, and after having taken leave of me in a few words, he set off with his partisans."
"Ah! And then?"
"Then I also set out, a little embarrassed, as I have already told you. Happily for me, and for the persons who accompanied me, at the moment when lost in the mountains, we wandered through unknown paths without knowing where to direct our steps, Providence sent us a numerous troop of Indian horsemen."
"What!" quickly interrupted Zeno Cabral; "These whites of whom you spoke to me last night, chief—"
"That caballero and the persons of his suite," answered the old chief, affirmatively nodding his head.
"That, upon my word, is a very extraordinary incident. When the chief spoke to me on the subject, I boldly answered that I did not know you."
All the suspicions of the chief had suddenly vanished before this frank explanation.
The Montonero understood that he had attained the end which he sought.
"You have no other questions to ask me, señor," said the painter, in a slightly jeering tone.
"Well, I will ask you one thing more."
"Do so; I will answer you."
"Well, I should like to know if chance, alone, has brought you here?"
"The two wild animals brought me here," answered the young man, in a somewhat sardonic tone.
"Which means—?"
"Simply this—wakened by the roar of the lions, the thought suddenly occurred to me to chase them. As soon as my resolution was taken, I rose, seized my gun, and, without any other indications than the roar of the animals, I immediately pursued them. Chance led them here, and I followed them; that is the whole history—are you satisfied with it?" added he.
"Perfectly, my dear sir," answered the Montonero, and mentally adding—"this lion hunt is only a pretext; it conceals something from me; I will watch."
"And now, if you like, señor," resumed the young man, "we will take breakfast."
"With all my heart," answered the Montonero.
The palomas were taken from the spit, the sweet potatoes drawn from under the embers, and the breakfast began. We need not add that the four people did justice to this improvised repast.
The meal finished—and it did not last more than a quarter of an hour, for the dangers of desert live induced frugality—the cigarettes were lighted.
"I think," said Emile, addressing the chiefs, "that it is time for us to return to the camp. If nothing detains Don Zeno Cabral in this place, he will perhaps do us the honour to accompany us."
"It would be with the greatest pleasure that I should accept your obliging offer, caballero," answered the partisan. "Unhappily, my way is diametrically opposite to that in which you are going."
"Permit me, then, caballero, to take leave of you," answered the young man, rising.
"You will not go away without taking the skin of your lion."
"And that of the lioness, that I am happy to offer you," added Gueyma
"I thank you, and accept your offer joyfully," said the young man; "unhappily, I do not know how to proceed to skin these noble animals."
"Will you permit us to say a few words to our friend? We shall then be happy to render you this service."
"Very well, gentlemen, I am at your orders," answered the young man, stretching himself again upon the grass; and he mentally added— "Perhaps I shall thus learn something."
But the painter's hope was completely deceived; it was in vain for him to pay the most earnest attention; it was impossible for him not to hear, for they spoke in a very high voice, but to understand a word of the conversation, for the simple reason that, either from mistrust or because they could more easily express their thoughts in that language, the conversation of the three men took place in Guaycurus.
The conversation lasted for more than an hour, in a very animated way; at last, Zeno Cabral turned towards Emile, who was still lying on the grass, and carelessly smoking his cigar. Extending his hand to him, he said in a friendly tone—
"I am going, Señor Don Emile; we leave on good terms, I hope?"
"I do not see why it should be otherwise, señor," answered the young man, taking the hand that was extended to him.
"Thank you; adieu, Don Emile," and he went towards his horse, that he began to saddle and bridle.
The French painter had risen, and had gone to the wild beasts, which the Indian chiefs, as soon as their conversation was ended, had proceeded to skin. The young man was anxious to be present at this curious operation, which the Guaycurus, armed only with their knives, executed with unimaginable skill and rapidity.
"Don Emile!" cried Zeno Cabral.
"What do you want with me, señor?" answered the latter.
"Not adieu; it is au revoir that I ought to have said; I do not know how it is, but I have the conviction that we shall soon see one another again."
"And I, too," answered the painter.
"What do you mean?" asked Zeno Cabral.
"Nothing more than what you say yourself, señor; you have a conviction—I have a presentiment—is there anything astonishing in that?"
The partisan looked at him with profound attention; then, appearing to take a sudden resolution—
"Au revoir, Señor Don Emile," said he, in a sorrowful voice; and lifting his hand to his hat, which he slightly raised, set off at a full gallop.
The young man followed him some time with his eyes along the windings of the route; when at last he had disappeared on the border of a forest, into which he plunged without slackening his pace, the painter shook his head.
"There is evidently something in the wind; I must watch more than ever!"
The two chiefs, after having skinned the lions, were proceeding to rub the inside of the skins with ashes, so as to preserve them from decomposition until they could dry them in the sun.
It was about seven o'clock in the morning. The camp of the Guaycurus was not more than half a league from the spot where the partisan had established himself for the night; the distance, then, could be accomplished in very little time.
"Well!" asked the painter, "What shall we do now, chiefs?"
"What you like, señor," answered the Cougar; "the skins are prepared; it only remains for us to shoulder them."
"That shall devolve on me," said the young man; "I have already given you sufficient trouble."
The old chief smiled gently.
"Let me carry one, and you shall take the other."
The painter offered no further objection; he soon felt the justice of the remark of the old Indian. The skin that he had taken on his shoulders still wet, was very heavy and difficult to carry.
As there was nothing else to do in the partisans' camp, they then set off left the bloodstained bodies of the lions to the vultures, who had been for a long time wheeling above them, and who swooped down immediately the men had disappeared.
The latter had resumed—walking with that gymnastic step peculiar to the Indians, and which, in a very short time, enables them to cover a great deal of ground—the way to their camp, followed with great difficulty by the Frenchman, who was nearly all the time forced to run to keep up with them.
We will now explain to the reader what motive had led the young man so suddenly to the camp of Zeno Cabral.
To do this we must go back a few hours to the moment when the Cougar and Gueyma, after having conversed a long time with Arnal round the council fire, had risen, and made the tour of the camp to assure themselves that everyone was asleep, and had then gone away under the pretext that they were going to reconnoitre a spot where they had seen a fire in the night, shining like a solitary lighthouse at a short distance off.
After their departure, Arnal made sure of the calm sleep of Dove's Eye, spread several furs over her, and then, wrapping himself in his furs, the chief lay down not far from the young girl, and was soon asleep.
The Indians keep but a poor lookout when they do not suspect enemies near them.
In the desert where the Guaycurus were now camped, a surprise was not to be feared; moreover, their two most experienced chiefs were on the lookout, and would warn them of the least danger.
Half an hour after the departure of the chiefs, Emile Gagnepain, comfortably lying near a fire, removed the furs which covered his face.
There was the most profound silence in the camp.
After a careful examination, the young man, convinced that all the warriors were asleep, and that consequently no one would notice him, rose, passed his pistols through his girdle, and seized his gun.
Light as were the steps of the painter, a man heard him, and abruptly raised his head. Emile inclined his ear, said a few words, and the other lay down again without taking any further notice of him.
The young man entered the enramada, which served for a refuge to the marchioness and her daughter. The marchioness did not sleep; with her back supported against the trunk of a tree, she held on her knees the charming head of her daughter, plunged in a calm and refreshing sleep.
The marchioness raised her head on the arrival of the young man; she seemed to be anxious to question him. But the latter quickly put a finger to his lips to recommend prudence, and took his place by her side, not, however, without having cast on the sweet countenance of Doña Eva a look full of love and admiration.
The marchioness, rendered anxious by the visit of the young man at such an hour, impatiently waited for him to speak.
"Reassure yourself, Madame," said he, in a low voice; "up to the present time, God be praised, we have not, I think, anything to fear."
"But," she answered in the same tone, "you have not interrupted your sleep without important reasons."
"I have, indeed, a motive in coming here, Madame, but this motive only arises from fears and suspicions."
"Explain yourself, I beg, Don Emile."
"The fact is this, Madame. For several days I have heard frequently the name of your implacable enemy, Don Zeno Cabral."
"Ah!" said she, with sudden emotion. "These people are his friends. We are lost!"
"Do not go so fast or so far, Madame; although we should certainly redouble our precautions, and keep ourselves on our guard."
"Dear Don Emile, do not leave me in this situation. Something has happened, has there not?"
"Of what is passing I am ignorant, Madame; only, in case there should be anything important, I am resolved to know it. That is why I have ventured to disturb your repose."
"But what is it that has happened?" pursued she.
"Less than nothing, Madame."
"Ah, you at last avow—I knew well that—"
"Pardon, Madame," interrupted he, quickly; "you misunderstand me, here is the fact in a few words."
"Tell me quickly, I beg you."
"This evening," the young man resumed, "the three Guaycurus chiefs had a long conversation round the council fire; then, after this conversation, the Cougar and Gueyma, after having gone the round of the camp, set out, to go, as they said, and reconnoitre on foot."
The marchioness remained a short time in a reverie, and then, raising her head—
"I do not think that is anything extraordinary, or that it should disquiet us," said she.
"There would be nothing, indeed, disquieting in this sortie," answered he, "if it had not been induced by a motive."
"It has a motive?"
"Yes, Madame. Without doubt the desire of visiting the people camped near us, whose fire can be seen shining in the darkness."
"Oh!" she said, with a thrill of fear, "You are right; that is serious. What do you intend doing?"
"I intend to set out from the camp to follow the two chiefs to this encampment, where, perhaps, I shall meet faces that I know."
"You run great danger in this excursion," said the marchioness.
"I thank you sincerely for this good opinion, Madame, and to justify it I shall set out as soon as possible."
"Mon Dieu! If you are discovered!"
"I will take precautions not to be so, Madame."
"These Indians are so crafty."
"Bah! If they discover me I shall get out of it by inventing some pretext or other. But I wish to assure myself whether my conjectures are true. I leave you, Madame."
"Go then, since you insist on it," answered she, with sadness, "and heaven bless you."
The young man bowed respectfully to the marchioness, and quitted the enramada. At his exit from the camp, a sentinel half opened his eyes.
"Where are you going, brother?" asked the Indian.
"I have been wakened by the wild beasts. I cannot sleep, and am going to kill one of them."
"Success to you," answered the sentinel.
Lying on the ground, again he closed his eyes.
"Good," said Emile, as soon as he was alone. "I have no further need of secrecy now. This sleepy sentinel has done well to question me abruptly. Thanks to him, I have found what I was seeking."
Things had turned out better for the Frenchman than he had dared to hope; for he had no occasion to offer his pretext, and his explanation with Zeno Cabral was quite friendly.