Chapter Forty Three.
In the Sacred Town.
That same sun which became so suddenly obscured over the salitral, to shine again in the later hours of the afternoon, is once more about to withdraw its light from the Chaco—this time for setting. Already appears its disc almost down upon the horizon; and the strangely-shaped hill, which towers above the Tovas town, casts a dark shadow over the plain eastward, to the distance of many miles. The palms skirting the lake reflect their graceful forms far over the water, whose surface, undisturbed by the slightest breath of air, shows smooth and shining as a mirror; broken, however, here and there, where water-fowl disport themselves upon it. Among these may be observed the great musk duck, misnamed “Muscovy,” and the black-necked swan; both indigenous to the Chaco; while in the shallower places along shore, and by the edges of the islets, appear various species of long-legged waders, standing still, or stalking about as if on stilts; the most conspicuous of all being the scarlet flamingo, side by side with the yet taller garzon, already known to us as “soldier-crane.”
A scene of tranquil yet picturesque beauty—perhaps no fairer on earth—is the landscape lying around the Sacred Town of the Tovas.
And on this same day and hour, a stranger entering within the precincts of the place itself might not observe anything to contrast with the tranquillity of the scene outside. Among the toldos he would see children at play, and, here and there, seated by their doors young girls engaged in various occupations; some at basket work, others weaving mats from the fibres of split palm leaves, still others knitting redes, or hammocks. Women of more mature age are busied with culinary cares, preparing the evening repast over fires kindled in the open air; while several are straining out the honey of the wild bee, called tosimi, which a party of bee-hunters, just returned to the tolderia, has brought home.
A few of the men may also be observed moving about, or standing in groups on the open ground adjoining the malocca; but at this hour most of them are on horseback out upon the adjacent plain, there galloping to and fro, gathering their flocks and herds, and driving them towards the corrals; these flocks and herds composed of horned cattle, sheep, and goats—the Tovas Indians being somewhat of a pastoral people. No savages they, in the usual sense of the term, nor yet is hunting their chief occupation. This they follow now and then, diversifying the chase by a warlike raid into the territory of some hostile tribe, or as often some settlement of the palefaces. For all civilisation of a certain kind has made progress among them; having its origin in an early immigration from Peru, when the “Children of the Sun” were conquered by Pizarro and his conquistadores. At that time many Peruvians, fleeing from the barbarous cruelty of their Spanish invaders, sought asylum in the Chaco, there finding it; and from these the Tovas and other tribes have long ago learnt many of the arts of civilised life; can spin their own thread, and sew skilfully as any sempstress of the palefaces; weave their own cloth, dress and dye it in fast colours of becoming patterns; in short, can do many kinds of mechanical work, which no white artisan need feel ashamed to acknowledge as his own. Above all, are they famed for the “feather-work,” or plume embroidery—an art peculiarly Indian—which, on their first becoming acquainted with it, astonished the rough soldiers of Cortez and Pizarro, as much as it delighted them.
To this day is it practised among several of the South American tribes, notably those of the Gran Chaco, while the Tovas particularly excel in it. But perhaps the highest evidence of these Indians having some civilisation, is their form of government, which is in reality Republican. For their cacique, or chief, although sometimes allowed to rule by hereditary succession, is more often chosen by the sub-chiefs and warriors; in short, elected just as the President of a Republic.
This gives the key to Aguara’s doubts and fears on returning to the Sacred Town with Francesca Halberger as his captive. Nor are the latter yet allayed, despite three days having elapsed since his return. Though he has done all in his power to conceal from his people the true facts in relation to her father’s death, still certain details of the tragedy have leaked out; and it has become known to most, that the hunter-naturalist is not only dead, but died by the hand of an assassin. This last, however, they suppose to have been the other white man late on a visit to them—Valdez the vaqueano. For the same tale which Aguara had told to his captive on the way, he has repeated, with some variations, to the elders of the tribe assembled in council within the malocca. So far not much of a fiction; only that part accounting for the death of the young brave who fell to Halberger’s bullet—a stray shot, while the latter was defending himself against Valdez.
And the daughter of the murdered man has been brought back with them, not as a prisoner, but because it was inconvenient to take her direct to her own home. She can and will be sent thither at the first opportunity which offers. So promises the deceitful son of Naraguana to those of the tribe who would call him to account.
Meanwhile, the girl has been entrusted to the charge and safe keeping of Shebotha, a sort of “mystery woman,” or sorceress, of much power in the community; though, as all know, under the influence of Aguara himself. But he has not dared to take the youthful captive to his own toldo, or even hint at so doing; instead, he still keeps his wicked purpose to himself, trusting to time and Shebotha for its accomplishment. According to his own way of thinking, he can well afford to wait. He has no thought that anyone will ever come after the captive girl; much less one with power to release her. It is not probable, and from a knowledge possessed only by himself, scarcely possible. Her father is dead, her mother doomed to worse than death, as also her brother and that other relative—his own rival. For before parting with him, Rufino Valdez had said what amounted to so much; and possibly by this time the Señora Halberger, with what remained of her family, would be on the way back to Paraguay; not returning voluntarily, but taken back by the vaqueano. With this belief—a false one, as we know—the young Tovas chief feels secure of his victim, and therefore refrains from any act of open violence, as likely to call down upon him the censure of his people. Though popular with the younger members of the tribe, he is not so much in favour with the elders as to fly in the face of public opinion; for were these aware of what has really taken place, it would go ill with him. But as yet they are not; silence having been enjoined on the youths who accompanied him in that ill-starred expedition, which they, for their own sakes, have hitherto been careful to keep.
For all, certain facts have come to light in disjointed, fragmentary form, with deductions drawn from them, which go hard against the character of the young cacique; and as the hours pass others are added, until discontent begins to show itself among the older and more prominent men of the tribe, chiefly those who were the friends of his father. For these were also friends of her father, now alike fatherless, though made so by a more cruel fate. Low murmurings are here and there heard, which speak of an intent to prosecute inquiry on the subject of Halberger’s assassination—even to the carrying it into Paraguay. Now that they have re-entered into amity with Paraguay’s Dictator, they may go thither, though the purpose be a strange one; to arraign the commissioner who acted in restoring the treaty!
With much whispering and murmurs around, it is not strange that the young cacique, while dreaming of future pleasures, should also have fears for that future. His own passion, wild as wicked, has brought him into danger, and a storm seems brewing that, sooner or later, may deprive him of his chieftainship.