The Guide of the Desert

by Gustave Aimard

When he had reached the bank of the river, he looked around him an instant; then he threw himself on the ground, and commenced to crawl gently in the direction of a neighbouring wood, a part of which was washed by the water of a river.

Arrived at two or three steps from the wood, the Indian suddenly stopped, and thus remained for several minutes, without even the noise of his breathing being heard.

Then, after having, by looking around him, sounded the darkness, as it were, he huddled himself into a small space, like a wild beast ready to take a spring. Seizing his knife in the right hand, he lightly raised his head, and imitated, with rare accuracy, the hissing of the giboya, or boa constrictor.

Scarcely had this hissing sound been heard when the branches of the thicket were agitated; they were then separated with violence, and an Indian bounded in fright towards the river. At the same moment the captain darted behind him, buried his knife in the Indian's neck, and laid him dead at his feet.

This murder had been committed in less time than it has taken us to relate it. But a few seconds had flown, and the warrior was lying lifeless before his implacable enemy.

Don Diogo coolly wiped his knife with a tuft of grass, replaced it in his girdle, and leaning over his victim, he regarded him attentively.

"Come," he murmured, "fortune has favoured me; this is one of the chiefs; his costume will suit me."

After this "aside," which explained the secret motive for the murder he had just committed in so rude a manner, the captain took upon his shoulders the body of the Guaycurus, and concealed himself with it in the thicket, from which he had so skilfully drawn his enemy.

The reader must not conclude, from what we have just related, that the captain was a ferocious and sanguinary man. Don Diogo enjoyed amongst his companions a merited reputation for kindness and humanity, but the circumstances in which he was placed at that moment were exceptional. It was evident that if the Guaycurus spy, whom he had surprised and so pitilessly killed, had perceived him first, he would have stabbed him without hesitation. For that matter, the captain had taken care to say as much himself to the marquis. The war which was commencing was one of treachery and ambush.

Time was precious; he therefore hastened to despoil his victim, in whose vestments he clothed himself. By a fortunate coincidence the two men were about the same size.