THE LYNX.
In the course of the past few days certain events had taken place in Araucania which we must explain. The policy adopted by General Fuentes had produced the best results. The chiefs restored to liberty had returned to their tribes, where they had warmly persuaded their mosotones to conclude a definite peace. These persuasions had been eagerly listened to.
The Huiliches, who asked no better than to resume the course of their peaceful labours in safety, warmly gave their adhesion to the conditions their Ulmens submitted to them.
A grand council was solemnly convoked on the banks of the Carampangne, at the closing of which six deputies, chosen from among the wisest and most respected chiefs, having at their head an Apo-Ulmen named the Lynx, and followed by a thousand well-armed horsemen, were sent to Antinahuel, in order to communicate to him the resolutions of the council, and demand his assent.
When he perceived at a distance this numerous troop advancing amidst clouds of dust, Antinahuel breathed a sigh of satisfaction, thinking what a noble reinforcement was coming: for the malocca which he was so anxious to attempt upon the Chilian frontier.
The troop which Antinahuel had perceived continued to approach, and soon came within speaking distance. The Toqui then observed with secret dissatisfaction that it was commanded by the Lynx, who had always been tacitly opposed to him. When the horsemen had arrived within ten paces of the camp the Lynx made a sign, and the troop halted; a herald stopped in front of the chiefs, and saluted them respectfully.
"Toqui of the four Uthal-mapus," he said, in a loud voice, "and you Ulmens who hear me—the Lynx, the venerated Apo-Ulmen of Arauca, followed by six Ulmens no less celebrated than himself, is sent to you to enjoin obedience to the orders emanating from the supreme Auca-coyog."
After speaking thus the herald bowed respectfully and retired. Antinahuel and his Ulmens looked at each other in astonishment, for they could not comprehend what it all meant. The Toqui alone suspected some treachery planned against himself; but his countenance remained impassive, and he asked his Ulmens to accompany him to the council fire. At the expiration of a minute the Lynx arose, made two steps forward, and spoke as follows:—
"The grand Auca-coyog of Arauca, in the name of the people, to all persons who are at the head of warriors, salutation! Certain that all our compatriots keep their faith, we wish them peace in that genius of goodness, in which alone reside true health and holy obedience. This is what we have resolved: war has fallen unexpectedly upon our rich plains, and has changed them into deserts; our harvests have been trampled under the feet of horses, our cattle have been killed or driven away by the enemy, our crops are lost, our toldos are burnt, our wives and children have disappeared in the tempest. We will have no more war, and peace must be immediately concluded with the palefaces. I have spoken."
A profound silence followed this speech. Antinahuel's Ulmens were struck with stupor, and looked towards their chief with great anxiety.
"And upon what conditions has this peace been concluded?" asked the Toqui.
"The conditions are these," the Lynx replied; "Antinahuel will immediately release the white prisoners; he will dismiss the army; the Araucanos will pay the palefaces two thousand sheep, five hundred vicunas, and eight hundred head of cattle; and the war hatchet is to be buried."
"Hum!" said the Toqui with a bitter smile; "these are hard conditions. If I should on my part refuse to ratify this shameful peace?"
"But my father will not refuse," the Lynx suggested.
"But I do refuse!" he replied, loudly.
"Good! my father will reflect; it is impossible that can be his last word."
Antinahuel, cunning as he was, had no suspicion of the snare that was laid for him.
"I repeat to you. Lynx," he said, in a loud voice, "and to all the chiefs who surround me, that I refuse to ratify these dishonourable conditions. So, now you can return whence you came."
"Not yet!" said the Lynx, in his turn, as sharply as the Toqui. "I have not finished yet!"
"What else have you to tell me?"
"The council, which is composed of the wise men of all the tribes, has foreseen the refusal of my father."
"Ah!" Antinahuel cried. "What have they decreed in consequence?"
"This: the hatchet of Toqui is withdrawn from my father; all the Araucanian warriors are released from their oath of fidelity to him; fire and water are refused to my father; he is declared a traitor to his country, as are all those who do not obey, and remain with him. The Araucanian nation will no longer serve as a plaything, and be the victim of the wild ambition of a man unworthy of commanding it."
During this terrific peroration Antinahuel had remained motionless, his arms crossed upon his breast.
"Have you finished?" he asked.
"I have finished," the Lynx replied; "now the herald will go and proclaim in your camp what I have told you at the council fire."
"Well, let him go!" Antinahuel replied. "You are welcome to withdraw from me the hatchet of Toqui. Of what importance is that vain dignity to me? You may declare me a traitor to my country; I have on my side my own conscience, which absolves me; but what you wish above all else to have you shall not have and that is my prisoners. Farewell!"
And with a step as firm as if nothing had happened to him, he returned to his camp. But there a great mortification awaited him. At the summons of the herald all his warriors abandoned him. One after the other, some with joy, others with sorrow. He who five minutes before counted more than eight hundred warriors under his orders, saw their numbers diminish so rapidly that soon only thirty-eight were left.
The Lynx called out an ironical farewell to him from a distance, and departed at a gallop with all his troop. When Antinahuel counted the small number of friends left to him, an immense grief weighed upon his heart; he sank down at the foot of a tree, covered his face with his poncho, and wept.
In the meantime, thanks to the facilities which the Linda had procured Don Tadeo, the latter had been able for some days past to approach Rosario. The presence of the man who had brought her up was a great consolation to the young lady; but when Don Tadeo, who had thenceforward no reasons for secrecy, confessed to her that he was her father, an inexpressible joy took possession of the poor child. It appeared to her that she now had no longer anything to dread, and that since her father was with her she should easily escape the horrible love of Antinahuel. The Linda, whom Don Tadeo allowed from pity to be near her, beheld with childish joy the father and daughter talking together.
This woman was really a mother, with all the devotedness and all the abnegation which the title implies. She no longer lived for anything but her daughter.
Whilst the events we have described were taking place, the three Chilians, crouched in a corner of the camp, absorbed by their own feelings, had attended to nothing—seen or heard nothing. Don Tadeo and Rosario were seated at the foot of a tree, and at some distance the Linda, without daring to mingle in their conversation, contemplated them with delight. His first grief calmed, Antinahuel recovered himself, and was as haughty and as implacable as ever. On raising his eyes his looks fell mechanically upon his prisoners.
Antinahuel, whose attention was roused, had watched Maria carefully, and was not long in acquiring the moral proof of a plot being laid against him by his ancient accomplice. The Indian was too cunning to let them be aware of his suspicions; still he held himself on his guard, waiting for the first opportunity to change them into certainty. He ordered his mosotones to tie each of his prisoners to a tree, which order was immediately executed.
At sight of this, the Linda forgot her prudence; she rushed, dagger in hand, towards the chief, and reproached him with his baseness. Antinahuel disdained to reply to her reproaches; he merely snatched the dagger from her hand, threw her down upon the ground, and ordered her to be tied to a large post with her face turned towards the ground.
"Since my sister is so fond of the prisoners," he said "it is but just that she should share their fate."
"Cowardly wretch!" she replied, vainly endeavouring to release herself. The chief turned from her in apparent contempt; then, as he fancied that he must reward the fidelity of the warriors who followed his fortunes, he gave them several bottles of aguardiente. It was at the end of these orgies that they were discovered by the count, thanks to the sagacity of the Newfoundland dog.