"Oh!" he said, in consternation, "It is the white slave of the tree of Gualichu."
The circle round the two girls had grown larger; but the superstitious Indians, nailed to the ground by terror, looked at them fixedly.
"The power of Gualichu," Mercedes added, to complete her triumph, "is great and terrible. It is he who sends me; woe to the man who would try to thwart his designs; back, all of you."
And seizing the arm of Doña Concha, who was still trembling with emotion, she advanced with a firm step. Waving her arm authoritatively, the circle divided, and the Indians fell back to the right and left, making way for them to pass.
"I feel as if I was dying," Doña Concha murmured.
"Courage, señorita, we are saved."
"Oh, oh!" a mocking voice said, "what is going on here?"
And a man placed himself in front of the girls, and looked impudently at them.
"The matchi!" the Indians said, who, being reassured by the presence of their sorcerer, again assembled round the prisoners.
Mercedes trembled inwardly on seeing her stratagem compromised by the advent of the matchi, and at the suggestion of despair, she made a final effort.