After a tolerably long discussion, the chief urged his horse forward, and advanced without hesitation towards the rock.
Arrived at about ten paces from it, he stopped, and supporting himself carelessly on the long lance which he held in his hand:
"Why does the white huntsman earth himself like a timid viscacha?" said he, elevating his voice and addressing the gaucho; "The Aucas warriors are before him: let him come out from his ambuscade, and let him show that he is not a frightened and babbling old woman, but a brave man."
The chief waited an instant; then he resumed in a mocking voice:
"Come, my warriors are deceived, they thought to have unearthed a bold jaguar, and it is but a dog returning from the pampa that they are about to attack."
The eye of the gaucho flashed at the insult; he applied his finger to the trigger, and the charge flew.
But, sudden and unexpected as had been his movement, the wily Indian had foreseen it, or rather had guessed it; he threw himself rapidly on one side, there bounding in advance with the elasticity and certainty of a wild beast, he alighted in front of the gaucho, with whom he closed.
The two men rolled on the ground, grappling each other with fury.
Meanwhile, at the sound of the shot, the Indians had uttered their war cry, and had darted forward with the design of supporting their chief.
The gaucho seemed, therefore, doomed. If even he could have succeeded in overcoming the chief against whom he was fighting, he would evidently have had to succumb to the attack of ten Indians.