"Good!" Trangoil-Lanec replied, "my brother knows everything; after taking up the body of their comrade, the ravishers crossed the river, and went in the direction of the mountains. Now, what will my brother do?"
"Trangoil-Lanec is an experienced chief, he will wait for Don Valentine; Curumilla is younger, he will go upon the track of the ravishers."
"My brother has spoken well; he is wise and prudent; he will find them."
"Yes, Curumilla will find them," the chief replied, laconically.
After saying these words, he arose, saddled his horse, and left the camp; Trangoil-Lanec soon lost sight of him. He then returned and took his place by the wounded man. The day passed away thus. The Spaniards had all left the plain; the Indians, for the most part, had followed their example; there only remained a few tardy Araucanos; but these, also, were preparing to depart. Towards evening, Louis found himself much better; he was able, in a few words, to relate to the Indian what had passed; but he told him nothing new, he had divined it all.
"Oh!" said the young man, as he ended, "Rosario! poor Rosario is lost!"
"My brother must not be depressed with grief," Trangoil-Lanec replied softly; "Curumilla is upon the track of the ravishers; the young pale maiden will be saved!"
"Do you seriously tell me that, chief? Is Curumilla really in pursuit of them?" the young man asked, fixing his anxious eyes upon the Indian; "can I indeed hope that?"
"Trangoil-Lanec is an Ulmen," the Araucano replied proudly: "no lie has ever soiled his lips, his tongue is not forked; I repeat that Curumilla is in pursuit of the ravishers. Let my brother hope; he will see again the little bird which sings such sweet songs in his heart."
A sudden flush crossed the young man's face at these words; a sad smile curled his pale lips; he gently pressed the hand of the chief, and closing his eyes, he sank gently back in the hammock. All at once the furious galloping of a horse was heard from without.