UPON THE TRACK.
It was the evening of the eighth day, after twenty leagues from Arauca. In a virgin forest of myrtles, cypresses, and espinos, which cover with their green shade the lower parts of the Cordilleras—four men were seated round a fire. Of these four men, two wore the Indian costume, and were no other than Trangoil-Lanec and Curumilla; the others were the count and Valentine.
The spot on which our travellers had halted was one of those glades so common in American forests. It was a vast space covered with the trunks of trees that have died from age, or been struck by lightning, deeply inclosed between two hills.
The Indians were too experienced to commit the fault of stopping of their own accord in this place; and it was only from the impossibility of going further that they had consented to pass the night there.
The day had been a rough one, but the night promised to be mild and tranquil. The travellers attacked their supper bravely, in order to be the sooner able to enjoy the repose they stood so much in need of. They did not exchange a word during the repast; the last morsel swallowed, the Indians threw upon the fire a few armfuls of dry wood, of which they had an ample provision at hand, then folded themselves in their ponchos, and fell asleep. Valentine and Cæsar alone were left to keep guard.
It was almost an hour since he had taken Valentine's place, when Cæsar, who had till that time lain carelessly stretched before the fire, sharply raised his head, sniffed the air in all directions, and gave a surly growl.
"Well, Cæsar," said the young man whilst patting the animal, "what's the matter, my good dog?"
The Newfoundland fixed his large intelligent eyes upon the count, wagged his tail, and uttered a growl much stronger than the first.
"Very well," said Louis; "we will go on the lookout. Come along, Cæsar."
The count examined his rifle and his pistols, and made a sign to the dog, who watched all his motions.
"Now, Cesar," he said, "look out, my fine fellow!"
The animal, as if he had only waited for this order, sprang forward, followed step by step by his master, who examined the bushes, and stopped at intervals to cast an inquiring glance around him.
At length, after numberless windings, the dog crouched, turned its head towards the young man, and uttered one of those plaintive howls, so like a human complaint, which are peculiar to the race. The count started; putting the bushes and leaves apart with precaution, he looked, and with difficulty repressed a cry of painful astonishment at the strange spectacle which presented itself to his eyes. Within twenty paces from him, in the centre of a vast glade, fifty Indians were lying round a fire, buried in the sleep of intoxication, as could be divined from the leather bottles scattered without order upon the sand, some full of aguardiente, others empty.
But what attracted the particular attention of the young man was the sigh of two persons, a man and a woman, firmly bound to two trees. The head of the man reclined upon his breast, his large eyes were flooded with tears; deep sighs seemed to rise from his very heart, as he looked towards a young girl standing bound before him.
"Oh!" the count murmured, "Don Tadeo de León! My God! Grant that that woman be not his daughter!"
Alas! it was she. At their feet lay the Linda, bound to an enormous post.
The young man felt the blood flow back to his heart; forgetful of his own preservation, he seized a pistol in each hand, and was about to spring forward, when a heavy hand was laid upon his shoulder, and a voice whispered in his ear—
"Prudence!"
"Prudence!" the young man repeated, in a tone of painful reproach; "look there!"
"I have seen," replied Trangoil-Lanec, "but my brother will look in his turn," he added.
And he pointed to a dozen Indians, who, awakened by the cold of the night, or perhaps by the involuntary noise made by the two men, in spite of their precaution, rose and looked suspiciously around.
"That is true!" Louis murmured, quite overcome. "Oh, my God! Will you not come to our aid?"
The chief took advantage of the momentary prostration into which his friend had fallen, to lead him back a little, so as to avoid increasing the aroused suspicions of the Indians.
"Still," the young man exclaimed, "we shall save them, shall we not, chief?"
The Araucano shook his head.
"At this moment it is impossible," he replied.
"Brother, now that we have recovered their track, which we had lost, they must be saved."
A smile passed over the lips of the Indian warrior.
"We will try," he said.
"Thanks! thanks, chief," the young man cried.
"Let us return to the camp," said Trangoil-Lanec. "Patience, my brother," the Indian added in a solemn voice; "nothing is urgent—in an hour we shall be on their track again."
"That is true," the young man said, hanging down his head with forced resignation.
The two men regained their encampment, where they found Curumilla and Valentine still asleep.