THE CAMP.
Zeno Cabral, after his interview with the young painter, departed at gallop from the Valle del Tambo, followed naturally by the Spanish officers, who had no plausible motives for remaining with Don Pablo Pincheyra.
The Montonero galloped thus during about four hours, incessantly exciting his horse, the speed of which seemed almost a miracle, until arrived at a crossroad, where the route branched into two paths. Here he stopped, and leaning towards his two companions, who had followed him at almost as great a pace:
"Caballeros," said he, ceremoniously saluting them, "I beg you to accept all my thanks for the loyal manner in which you have kept the word you have given me; but here is your road," said he, pointing to the path on the left, "and this is mine," added he, indicating that to the right. "Let us separate now; I wish you a good journey."
"I thank you, monsieur," responded the count courteously; "only, Will you permit me to ask you a question?"
"Speak."
"It is not a question that I would ask you; it is a prayer that I desire to make."
"Prayer or question, speak, monsieur; I will answer you."
"Sir, my companion and I are Spaniards, from Europe—that is to say, strangers to this country. If you leave us here, we shall inevitably be lost, ignorant as we are of the route that we ought to follow."
"When do you wish to go?"
"Mon Dieu, señor! That is just what troubles us," said the captain, joining in the conversation.
"Just so; then you desire—"
"Mon Dieu! We desire to reach its advanced posts, and that as soon as possible."
The Montonero reflected for some time.
"Gentlemen," he at last answered, "what you wish is very difficult; it is evident that you will have great trouble in passing through our troops. I only see one way of getting you out of the difficulty, but I fear that you would not accept it."
"What way is this?" cried the two Spaniards.
"This is it—to follow me where I go; only I exact your word of honour, as soldiers and gentlemen, that you will be dumb as to what you may see and hear. On this condition I engage to enable you to reach, with very little delay, the advanced posts of your army. Do you accept?"
"Yes, we accept heartily, caballero," cried the two officers.
"Enough, gentlemen," said Zeno Cabral; "we make a new contract which, I am convinced, will be as loyally kept as the first. Come, then, gentlemen; we have already been here a long time."
"Proceed, sir," answered the count; "we follow."
They set out.
They proceeded thus till the evening, without exchanging a single word. Why should they speak? They had nothing to say.
At the moment when the sun disappeared behind the snowy peaks of the Cordilleras, on a sign from the partisan, the horsemen stopped.
Night was coming on, but the darkness was yet only so deep that the landscape, half veiled by the shadows of evening, appeared all the grander.
The path had by degrees become broader; it now formed a route bordered right and left by high forests of cork trees, through which it passed under magnificent arches of foliage; a thick, coarse grass reached nearly to the chests of the horses; and a waterfall, bounding in disordered masses from the top of a chaos of rocks, formed to the right of the travellers a large silvery sheet, in which the pale moon was reflected.
"We have arrived, gentlemen," said Zeno Cabral; "you can quit your saddles."
"Arrived!" said the count, looking round him.
"For the evening, at all events, count," answered the partisan; "for the few paces we have to go we can take on foot."
Speaking thus the Montonero had attached the bridle of his horse to the pommel of his saddle, and removed the stirrups.
"But our horses?" asked the captain.
"Do not disturb yourself about them."
"But they cannot remain thus."
"They will not remain here; be easy, care will be taken of them."
The count and the captain alighted.
"Well," resumed Zeno, "now wait a bit."
He then took a whistle which was hanging at his neck by a gold chain, concealed under his clothes, and gave a long and shrill whistle.
In a moment a man appeared.
"Ah! Ah! It is you, Don Sylvio," said the partisan, in a good-humoured tone.
"Yes, general, it is me," said the old soldier.
"Very good; let your men take care of the horses, and let us be conducted to the camp."
The officer turned towards the shrubbery from which he had so unexpectedly emerged.
"Hola!" cried he in a loud voice, "Come here, you fellows!"
The six soldiers, who were doubtless in ambuscade not far off, darted suddenly from the underwood, and, having respectfully bowed to Zeno Cabral, ranged themselves behind the old officer, ready to obey blindly the orders which they might receive.
"Is the camp far?" asked the Montonero, addressing Don Sylvio.
"At a gunshot at the most, general."
"You will guide us; as to you," he added, turning to the soldiers, "you know where you have to put the horses."
The soldiers bowed without answering, and quickly approached the horses.
Don Zeno looked round him as if he wished to fathom the darkness, and assure himself that no enemy was watching him; then, motioning Don Sylvio to go on before him:
"Come, gentlemen," he said; "let us go on."
The three then entered the wood, following the captain. Notwithstanding the increasing darkness, the latter found his way with a certainty which showed either that, like certain animals, he had the faculty of seeing in the dark, or that he had a thorough knowledge of the locality through which he was passing.
A quarter of an hour thus passed, during which the four men marched in Indian file—that is to say, following each other one by one—without exchanging a word. At the end of this time they began to perceive the reddish tints of several fires shining through the trees, which now became thicker.
"Halt! Who goes there?" suddenly cried a man.
"Zeno and liberty!" answered the captain, coldly.
"Pass!" said the sentinel, lowering his gun.
The travellers continued their journey. At about ten paces further on, a second sentinel stopped them, and then a third barred their passage at the moment when they reached the skirt of a large glade, in the midst of which was established a camp, which, by the number of fires lighted, appeared to be considerable. This sentinel, when he had exchanged the password with the captain, did not raise his gun as the others had done; he contented himself with turning half round.
"Officer of the guard!" he said; "Reconnoitre!"
There was a movement in the glade, the clatter of arms was heard, followed immediately by the hasty step of several men, and ten soldiers, commanded by an officer, came towards the sentinel.
"¡Vive Dios!" said in a low voice the captain Don Lucio Ortega, to the partisan, "Receive my felicitations, señor; you maintain a rare discipline in your camp."
"What would you have, captain?" asked Don Zeno, smiling; "It ought to be so. Would it not be very stupid for us some day, for a want of a little vigilance, to be surprised by the enemy?"
The officer who had been called by the sentinel arrived at this moment, followed by several soldiers, apparently ready to aid him, if necessary.
But this time it was Zeno Cabral who took on himself to reply. On perceiving the officer, he motioned away Don Sylvio, and taking his place:
"Each one in his turn," said he in a low voice, placing his hand in a friendly way on the old officer's shoulder.
"That is right," answered the latter, bowing respectfully, and moving off.
"Who goes there?" cried the chief of the patrol, who had come to the call of the sentinel.
"Ah!" exclaimed the Montonero, apostrophising the officer, "Are you there, then, Captain Don Estevan Albino?"
"Cuerpo de Cristo!" cried the officer; "It is the general's voice."
"There! I knew you would recognise me."
"Ah! This is a fortunate arrival!" said the captain.
"You know," said Don Zeno, "that I expect that you will permit me to pass."
"¡Vive Dios! General, are you not chief among us? We will escort you."
"Come, gentlemen," said he, addressing the two Spaniards, "I believe we shall be well received."
"I should like to see it otherwise," grumbled Don Sylvio, through his moustache.
The news of the arrival of the general had now been spread through the camp; those who had been watching had risen; the sleepers, rudely awakened, had imitated them, rubbing their eyes; and all hastened, with torches and cries of joy, into the presence of the chief whom they adored.
Zeno Cabral then entered his camp, amidst the bright reflection of the torches, agitated by the night breeze.
As soon as the chief found himself in the midst of his staff, who hastened round him to congratulate him, he, by a gesture, ordered silence.
"Gentlemen," said he, pointing to the two men who accompanied him, and who stood modestly behind him, "these two caballeros are my friends, and not my prisoners. Although devoted to another cause than our own, and not sharing our political convictions, they are, for a time at least, placed under the security of our honour. I commend them to your honourable care; see that they want for nothing, and are treated with the respect due to them."
"Thank you, general," said the two men; "we did not expect less from your courtesy."
The introduction over, the soldiers occupied themselves with the newcomers.
Probably the arrival of the general, as the Montoneros called him, was expected, for a vast tent in the middle of the camp had been raised for him; but, notwithstanding the weariness and hunger that he felt, he did not consent to retire then, till he had seen the Spaniards installed as comfortably as circumstances would permit.
By degrees, quiet was re-established in the camp; the Montoneros resumed their places round their bivouac fires, and were soon asleep under their mantles.
The sentinels alone kept watch.
We are wrong; there was another that kept watch—Zeno Cabral.
Leaning on a table, his head between his hands, he was examining attentively, by the uncertain light of a smoky lamp, a map unrolled before him.
The map was one of the viceroyalty of Buenos Aires.
Now and then, on certain places on the map which he was so carefully studying, the Montonero stuck pins, the heads of which had been dipped in black or red wax.
Don Zeno had, for about an hour, given himself up to this work, which so much absorbed him that he had forgotten fatigue and sleep, when the curtain of the tent was drawn aside, and a man appeared.. At the sound of his steps the general raised his head.
"Ah! It is you, Don Juan Armero?" said he, saluting the person in a friendly way; "What news? You return from a reconnoitering trip, do you not?"
"Just so, general," answered Don Juan, after having given a military salute to his chief; "I have just arrived, and I bring news."
"Speak without fear. Everyone is asleep."
"That may be, but if you will allow me, I will tell you the news in the open air—not here."
"How is that?" said Don Zeno; "We are, I think, in a very good position to talk here."
"Excuse me, general," said Don Juan Armero, "but these walls of canvas, which intercept the view, without preventing words from being heard, cause me a fear which I cannot surmount. I am afraid, though I may be deceived, that there may be a spy on the watch."
"Is what you have to say to me important, then?" asked Don Zeno.
"I think it is of some importance."
"Hum!" said Zeno, in a reverie; "Come then."
The night was calm; millions of stars glittered in the dark blue sky; the breeze gently agitated the leafy tops of the trees; the moon, on the wane, spread an uncertain light on the landscape.
The two men proceeded a few steps silently side by side. Zeno Cabral was reflecting, and Don Juan Armero respectfully waited till his chief should address him.
"Well," the partisan asked, "what is this news, Don Juan? You can without fear tell me here."
"Just so, general," he answered. "I have been, as you know, on a journey of discovery. The Brazilian army has left its cantonments in the Banda Oriental; a division of this army is advancing by forced marches in this direction to take possession of the fords of the rivers, and the mouths of the defiles, so as to permit a second division, which follows it at a day's march behind, to invade Tucumán."
"Oh! Oh!" murmured the partisan, "That is, indeed, serious. Is this news reliable?"
"Yes, general."
"Well, go on; but just a word—have you learned by what general this Brazilian division is commanded?"
"Yes, general."
"And his name is?" he asked.
"It is the Marquis Don Roque de Castelmelhor."
Something like a smile crossed the austere face of the Montonero, and gave him an inexpressible look of hope and hatred.
"What direction do these troops follow?" he said.
"They are preparing to cross the desert plains of the Abipones."
"Good!" he murmured; "However quick they will march, we will rejoin them; and," slightly raising his voice, "what news of the Guaycurus?"
"None, general."
"That is strange; have you nothing else to communicate to me?"
"Pardon, general; I have indeed some more important news for you."
"Come, speak! I am listening."
"Don Pablo Pincheyra, the Bear of Casa-Frama, has suddenly abandoned his inaccessible repair."
"I know it," said the general.
"But what you doubtless do not know is, that, furious at having been so completely deceived by you, he is pursuing you—with only a few men, it is true."
"Good!" said Zeno Cabral, smiling; "Let them come, Don Juan, let them come. Anything else?"
"Nothing, general, unless it is to ask you if your expedition has succeeded, and if you are satisfied."
"Enchanted, Don Juan, enchanted! I hope that, in a few days, we shall have attained the end that I have for so long contemplated."
"God grant it, general."
"Thank you, Don Juan," said he. "I hope God will not destroy my hopes. Good night."
The officer bowed and immediately retired, and Zeno Cabral regained his tent with slow steps.
"Ah!" murmured he, falling on a seat; "Would that fortune may at last favour me, and that I may be allowed to capture them all by a throw of the net!"
He remained a short time pensive; then, having trimmed his lamp, he again bent over his map.
The most profound silence reigned without; except the sentinels, everyone in the camp was asleep.
Till the morning, the general's lamp burned in his tent.
He alone, of the partisans, kept unquiet vigil.