THE GUIDE.
Meanwhile, as we have seen in a preceding chapter, after the council held in the Valle del Tambo, Tyro had charged himself with the guidance of the little caravan, composed of two ladies, the French painter, the two gauchos, and himself.
As Tyro had foreseen, the travellers did not meet on this route any other obstacles than the material difficulties of the road—obstacles that by courage and perseverance they succeeded in overcoming.
The Guarani, as a warrior, thoroughly habituated to traverse an enemy's country, watched with extreme solicitude over the safety of those who had so frankly trusted to him, roaming continually round the caravan—in advance, in the rear, and on either side.
Every evening he camped in a position studied with care—a position which placed them, during their sleep, out of the range of a surprise.
The high peaks of the Cordilleras began by degrees to lower before the travellers. They had left the cold regions, and now found themselves in a temperate climate; the air became milder, the sun warmer, the atmosphere less sharp to breathe; the trees assumed less harsh tints, their branches were more leafy, and the birds appeared more numerous, and in brighter colours.
And the two ladies felt hope by degrees returning to their hearts, broken by suffering; and dimly saw, through a not distant future, the end of their misfortunes.
Some days had passed since their departure from the Valle del Tambo, when they found themselves almost in a civilised country, and although they had to redouble their prudence to escape the numerous bands of patriots which traversed the country in every direction, nevertheless, the prospect of soon getting away from these desolate mountains, in the midst of which they had so long wandered, rendered them joyous, and made them not only forget all they had suffered, but induced them to look at everything in a favourable light. For once, they were pursuing their journey gaily.
Tyro alone, who had taken on himself the responsibility of the general safety, did not give himself up to any foolish hope.
He knew, subtle Indian that he was, that the Montoneros, and other rovers on the highway or great plains, had the habit of hiding in the gorges of the mountains, to watch for the passing of travellers or caravans, and to dart on their prey, and carry it away, at the very moment when all danger seemed to have passed.
Tyro, deeply pondering on this circumstance—quite the reverse of his companions, whose features brightened more and more—became more and more gloomy, for he felt that each step that he made brought him nearer to a danger so much the more terrible, that it was, unless by a miracle from the Almighty, nearly inevitable.
On the day of which we speak, when, the camp was raised, and everyone ready to start, the Indian took the painter aside, and gave him all the information necessary to follow the path which opened into the defile, and turned round these abrupt flanks.
"Why so many details?" asked Emile; "Since you are with us, you will know how to guide us, I suppose."
"No, my friend, I shall not be with you," answered Tyro; "that is why I give you this information."
"What! You will not be with us!" cried the young man in surprise; "Where are you going then?"
"I shall be in the advance guard, my friend, in order to reconnoitre the country we must pass through."
"You are mad, my good Tyro; you know very well, and you have frequently told me so, that we have now nothing to fear. We are far from the Valle del Tambo, and the haunts of the Pincheyras. What is the use, then, of this superfluity of precaution?"
"My friend, although I, like yourself," coldly answered the Guarani, "am convinced that we are not threatened with any of the catastrophes which so long have been suspended over us, nevertheless, it would be terrible for us to fail at the very moment when we think we are safe; and as, in this matter, it is my honour which is at stake, let me, I beg, act in my own way."
"Be it so," said the young man; "do as you like, run, look, watch; I give you full liberty of action. We have with us two ladies whom I have sworn to save, and I have no right to be imprudent. Go, but do not be too long."
"As short a time as possible," answered he, bowing.
And putting his horse into a gallop, he darted forward, leaving the travellers to continue their journey.
"What has Tyro been doing to you, and why does he leave us thus?" asked the marchioness.
"He has been telling me, Madame," he answered, bowing to her, "the route we ought to take, and he has set off in advance as our trusty pioneer."
"Always devoted," replied the marchioness, smiling, "always faithful."
"Like his master," added, in a low voice, Doña Eva.
Several hours passed, and about eleven in the morning the travellers stopped under the shade of a clump of trees, so as to let the hottest part of the day pass.
Tyro had not reappeared; never since the commencement of the expedition had he made so long an absence. The painter felt uneasy, and several times had risen, and, with an anxious look, had examined the desolate route which stretched before him, till it was lost to sight. At last, about three in the afternoon, the young man gave the signal for starting.
They resumed their journey; only this time, instead of keeping near the ladies, Emile spurred his horse and dashed ahead.
The clump of trees under which the travellers had found a protecting shade had long disappeared in the distant bluish horizon, and the sun had begun sensibly to decline, when the painter perceived a horseman galloping towards him.
In this horseman the young man immediately recognised his guide.
Giving way, immediately, to the impatience which had so long tormented him, the painter put his horse into a gallop and soon rejoined him.
"Well," he asked, "what news?"
"Many things, my friend," resumed the Indian.
"I understand, pardieu!" cried he; "Only I wish to know whether these things are good or bad."
"That depends on how you judge them, my friend; for my part, I think them good."
"Let us have them, then."
"With all my heart; but perhaps it would be better, instead of remaining stationary in the middle of the route, if we continued our journey. I should like that at first you alone should hear what I have to tell you."
"You are right, my friend; let us push on then, and as we proceed you shall tell me what you have done," said the young man. "Now, speak," added he.
Tyro, by habit rather than from prudence, looked carefully round him.
"What I have to report is not much," he said, "but I think it very important for you."
"Go on!" answered the young man with impatience.
"Briefly, it is this. We are approaching the plains. The more we advance in this direction, the greater is the risk of finding enemies before us. We must, therefore, be continually on our guard against the traps that may be set for us. I do not know Why, but this morning, I felt myself seized with secret anxiety, without apparent cause."
"It is the same with me," interrupted the young man, who became suddenly sad; "I do not know what is passing within me, but I have the presentiment of a misfortune, or at least of an important event. Is it for good? Is it for evil? That is what I cannot say."
"I incline to the former opinion, my friend, and for this reason: this morning, after having for some minutes talked with you, I left you to go in search of news, as you know."
The painter nodded, and the Guarani continued:
"I followed the path for a long time without seeing anything suspicious; I was even preparing to retrace my steps to rejoin and reassure you; but I did not like to do so without taking a last precaution. I alighted, and with my ear to the ground, I listened. I then heard a distant sound, indistinct, but resembling that produced by a numerous troop of horsemen. I remounted and started ahead. A quarter of an hour afterwards all my doubts were removed; I was right; at about two gun shots before me I saw, coming at a moderate pace, the advance guard of this troop."
"The advance guard!" cried Emile; "They are soldiers then." "Partisans; but listen attentively, my friend; for now the question becomes more interesting."
"Speak! Speak!"
"You have heard, have you not," he resumed, "that the Portuguese have taken as auxiliaries several Indian tribes."
"Just so; but what has this to do with the matter?"
"Wait, wait, my friend. The troop that I have met is composed of warriors of these tribes—the most warlike of all, perhaps, the Guaycurus."
"What do you infer from this?"
"A very simple thing; according to the route that they travel, these warriors are proceeding towards Brazil."
"Brazil!" cried the young man.
"Yes, Brazil, the country that we wish to reach."
"What can we do in the matter, my poor friend?"
"It only depends on yourself, my friend; here is what is to be done!"
"Let us have it then," answered the young man.
The Indian did not remark, or feigned not to remark, the tone in which this was said, and continued coldly:
"These Guaycurus warriors form a troop of at least two hundred men, enemies of the Spaniards. Either they will try to glide unperceived in the midst of the Montoneros who skirt the plains, or, if they cannot escape thus, they will open a passage at the point of their lances."
"Well!" said the young man, becoming attentive.
"Well, my friend, in joining them we shall follow their fortunes."
"But you forget one thing, my poor friend, and a very important thing."
"What is it, mi amo?"
"This; we cannot thus join ourselves to this troop; if we are sufficiently foolish to discover ourselves to it we shall be immediately taken prisoners."
"Is it that only which embarrasses you, my friend?"
"My faith, yes," laughingly replied the young man.
"Then, my friend, be easy; I charge myself with causing you to be received by this troop in a manner not only flattering, but also advantageous to you. I know Indian customs."
"Very good, my friend; continue."
"I will claim the rights of Indian hospitality. You need have no dread of treachery; they would die themselves to defend you."
"Hum! Do you know, that this is very tempting that you thus propose to me, my friend?"
"Accept it, then!"
"I do not demand anything better; but I ought to consult the ladies."
"Well, my friend, consult them, then; but quickly, if possible, for time presses."
"It shall not be long," responded the young man, and, turning bridle with that promptness which formed the basis of his character, he rejoined at a gallop the ladies, who were not a great distance in arrear.
They listened with serious attention to the communication of the young man; the project of Tyro appeared to them simple, and sure of success. Consequently, they agreed to it promptly.
The Guarani prepared himself speedily to put it into execution.
We have reported in full his interview with Gueyma, at the conclusion of which he returned to his companions, who awaited his return with impatience, not unmixed with anxiety; but all inquietude ceased when they learned the noble and frank response of the chief.
Emile, followed by the two ladies, then advanced towards the Guaycurus, who had halted to receive their visitors, and warmly thanked Gueyma for the protection which he had consented to accord to him and his companions.
The Indian chief replied with majestic dignity, that, in acting as he had done, he fulfilled a duty prescribed by honour; that thanks were superfluous; and that while the strangers remained with the warriors they would be considered as cherished brothers, and as children of the nation.
The Cougar remained a passive spectator of this scene, with which he had not interfered in any way; when the strangers had retired, he leaned towards the ear of Gueyma:
"Have you well considered these gentlemen?" he demanded.
"Yes," responded the chief; "why do you ask me the question?"
"Because two of them are women."
"Well, what of that?"
"More than you suppose," he said, and strode away, ending brusquely the interview, to escape the questions to which he did not care to: reply.