A small whistle made of bone depended from Tyope's neck. He raised it to his lips and blew a shrill, piercing blast. The warriors in his neighbourhood turned their faces toward him. He beckoned to one of them to approach. To this man he gave directions in a low tone. They were to the effect that they should offer the most determined resistance to the enemy, while at the same time they were to retire gradually but slowly from the actual position, as if yielding to pressure. Their sturdy resistance was to cover the movements of the main body.
Tyope now stealthily crept away from the line of the fight. Soon he met a group of his people who, outside of the range of missiles, were waiting to be called into action. He sent the majority of them to the front to reinforce the others. Two runners were despatched to the south and southwest with orders. With the remainder he set out slowly, penetrating deeper into the timber. He thus collected, one after another, the various groups into a fairly compact body, always sending a few men back to reinforce the fighting portions. Over one hundred men were now engaged with the Tehuas. The remainder moved, as Tyope confidently hoped, upon the cave-dwellings of the unprotected Puye by a detour which would enable the Queres to avoid the rather exposed site of Tzirege.
A tremendous noise from the south indicated that a hand-to-hand encounter was going on there. The noise lasted but a short time, then it subsided. Shortly afterward a warrior rushed panting up to Tyope.
"Nashtio," he said, "the Moshome have taken five scalps."
"Where?" Tyope snorted.
"There;" he pointed southward.
"And we?"
"Three."
"Have the people gone back?"
"A little."