THE HUMAN SACRIFICE.
The army commanded by General Fuentes was composed of two thousand foot, eight hundred horse, and six pieces of cannon. It was an imposing force for these countries, where the population is very small, and where infinite pains are often required to raise an army half as numerous. As soon as the passage was effected, and the banks cleared of the fugitives, the general encamped his troops, resolved to give them a few hours' repose before resuming his march to form a junction with Don Tadeo de León. After giving these orders, as he was entering his marquee, an Indian came towards him.
"What do you want, Joan?" asked he.
"The great chief no longer needs me; Joan wishes to return to him who sent him."
"You are at liberty to do as you please, my friend; but I think you had better accompany the army."
The Indian shook his head.
"I promised my father to return immediately," he said.
"Go, then; I neither can nor wish to detain you; you can report what you have seen; a letter might compromise you in case of a surprise."
"I will do as the great chief commands."
"Well, good fortune attend you; but be particularly careful not to be taken in passing the enemy's lines."
"Joan will not be taken."
"Farewell! then, my friend," said the general, waving his hand as he entered his tent.
Joan took advantage of the permission granted and left the camp without delay. The night was dark; the moon was concealed behind thick clouds. The Indian directed his course with difficulty in the obscurity. He was more than once forced to retrace his steps, and to go wide about to avoid places which he thought dangerous. He proceeded thus, feeling his way as it were, till daybreak. At the first glimmering of dawn he glided like a serpent through the high grass, raising his head occasionally, and trembling in spite of himself, for he found he had, in the darkness, stumbled upon an Indian encampment. He had, inadvertently, got into the midst of the detachment commanded by Black Stag, who had succeeded in collecting the remains of his troops, and who, at that moment, formed the rearguard of the Araucanian army, whose bivouac fires smoked on the horizon, within distance of two leagues at the most.
But Joan was not a man to be easily disconcerted; he noticed that the sentinels had not yet perceived him, and he did not despair of getting out of the scrape he had blundered into. He did not, however deceive himself or attempt to fancy his position not critical; but as he confronted it coolly, he resolved to do all he could to extricate himself, and took his measures accordingly. After reflecting for a few seconds, he crept in a direction opposite to that he had before followed, stopping at intervals to listen. Everything went on well for a few minutes; nothing stirred. A profound silence seemed to hover over the country; Joan was beginning to breathe freely; in a few minutes he should be safe. Unfortunately, at that moment chance brought Black Stag directly before him; the vigilant chief had been making the round of his posts. The vice-Toqui turned his horse towards him.
"My brother must be tired; he has crept through the grass like a viper so long," he said, with an ironical smile; "he had better change his position."
"That is just what I am going to do," said Joan, without displaying the least astonishment.
And bounding up like a panther, he leaped upon the horse behind the chief, and seized him round the body.
"Help!" Black Stag cried, in a loud voice.
"One word more and you are a dead man!" Joan whispered in a threatening tone.
But it was too late; the chief's cry of alarm had been heard, and a crowd of warriors hastened to his succour.
"Cowardly dog!" said Joan, who saw his chance was gone, but who did not yet despair; "die then!" He plunged his poisoned dagger between his shoulders and cast him onto the ground, where the chief writhed in the agonies of death, and expired as if struck by thunderbolt. Joan lifted his horse with his knees and dashed full speed against the Indians who barred his passage. This attempt was a wild one. A warrior armed with a gun took a steady aim, the horse rolled upon the ground, with its skull crushed, and dragging its rider with it in the fall. Twenty warriors rushed upon Joan, and bound him before he could make a movement to defend himself. But he had time to conceal the dagger, which the Indians did not even think of looking for, as they did not know what weapon he had employed.
The death of Black Stag, one of the most respected warriors of the nation, threw the Araucanos into a state of consternation. An Ulmen immediately took the command in his place, and Joan and a Chilian soldier captured in the preceding combat, were sent together to the camp of Antinahuel. The latter felt great regret at receiving the news of the death of Black Stag; it was more than a friend he had lost, it was a right arm!
Antinahuel, in order to reanimate the courage of his people, resolved to make an example, and sacrifice the prisoners to Guecubu, the genius of evil—a sacrifice which we must admit is becoming more and more rare among the Aucas, but to which they have recourse sometimes when they wish to strike their enemies with terror, and to prove that they mean to carry on a war without mercy. Time pressed, the army must continue its march, therefore Antinahuel determined that the sacrifice should take place at once.
At some distance beyond the camp the principal Ulmens and warriors formed a circle, in the centre of which was planted the Toqui's hatchet. The prisoners were brought thither. They were not bound, but in derision were mounted upon a horse without ears and without a tail. Joan, as the more culpable, was to be sacrificed last, and witness the death of his companion as a foretaste. But if at that fatal moment everything seemed to have abandoned the valiant Indian, he had not abandoned himself.
The Chilian prisoner was a rough soldier, well acquainted with Araucanian manners, who knew perfectly what fate awaited him. He was placed near the hatchet, with his face turned toward the Chilian frontiers. They made him dismount from his horse, placed in his hands a bundle of small rods and a pointed stick, with which they obliged him to dig a trench, in which to plant one after the other the little wands, while pronouncing the names of the Araucano warriors he had killed in the course of his long career. To every name the soldier pronounced, he added some cutting speech addressed to his enemies who replied to him by horrible execrations. When all the wands were planted Antinahuel approached.
"The Huinca is a brave warrior," said Antinahuel; "he will fill up this trench with earth in order that the glory and valour of which he has given proofs during his life may remain buried in this place."
"So be it!" said the soldier; "but you will soon see that the Chilians possess more valiant soldiers."
And he carelessly threw the earth into the trench. This terminated, the Toqui made him a sign to place himself close to the hatchet; the soldier obeyed. Antinahuel raised his club and crushed his skull. The poor wretch fell, but was not quite dead, and he struggled convulsively. Two machis immediately sprang upon him, opened his breast and tore out his heart, which they presented, palpitating as it was, to the Toqui. The latter sucked the blood, and then passed the heart to the Ulmens, who followed his example.
In the meantime, the crowd of warriors seized upon the carcass, which they cut to pieces in a few minutes, reserving the bones to make war whistles of. They then placed the head of the prisoner on a pike, and danced round it to the sound of a frightful song, accompanied by the pipes made from the bones.
Joan's eye and ear were on the watch at the moment when this frightful saturnalia were at their apogee, he judged the time propitious, turned his horse, and fled as fast as he could. A few minutes confusion ensued, of which Joan took full advantage; but the Araucanos hastened to pursue him. He soon perceived that the distance between him and his enemies rapidly diminished. He was passing by the side of a hill, whose steep ascent could not be climbed by horses, and with the quickness of conception peculiar to brave men he divined that this would be his only chance of safety. He guided his horse so as, in a manner, to brush the hill, and get upright in his saddle. The Araucanos came up, uttering loud cries. All at once, seizing a strong branch of a tree, he sprang from his saddle, and climbed up the branch with the velocity of a tiger cat. The warriors shouted with rage and astonishment at beholding this extraordinary feat.
Nevertheless, the Araucanos had by no means given up all hopes of retaking their prisoner. They left their horses at the foot of the mountain, and half a score of the most zealous and active set off upon Joan's track. But the latter had now some space in advance. He continued to mount, clinging by feet and hands, and only stopping when nature commanded to take breath.
But he found that a longer struggle would be useless; that at length he was really lost.
The Araucanos came up panting from their long run, brandishing their lances and clubs with cries of triumph. They were not more than fifty paces from him at the most. At this awful moment Joan heard a voice whisper—
"Lower your head!"
He obeyed, without thinking of what was going on around him, or of whence this recommendation could come. The sound of four shots rattled sharply in his ears, and four Indian warriors rolled lifeless on the ground before him. Restored to himself by this unhoped-for succour, Joan bounded forward and stabbed one of his adversaries, whilst four fresh shots stretched four more upon the earth.
Joan was saved! He looked around him to ascertain to whom he owed his life. Valentine, Louis, and the two Indian chiefs stood beside him. These were the four friends who, watching from a distance the camp of the Araucanos, had witnessed the desperate flight of Joan, and had come bravely to his aid.
"Well, Joan, old fellow!" said Valentine, laughing, "you have had a narrow escape!"
"Thanks!" said Joan, warmly; "I shall not forget."
"I think we should act wisely if we now placed ourselves in safety," Louis observed.
"Don Louis is right." said Trangoil-Lanec.
The five men plunged into the woods of the mountain; but they had no occasion to dread an attack. Antinahuel, upon hearing the reports which the warriors who had escaped the Frenchmen's rifles gave of the number of enemies they had to combat, was persuaded that the position was occupied by a strong detachment of the Chilian army: consequently, he struck his camp, and went away in one direction, whilst the adventurers escaped in another.