Malco slung his carbine and darted like a shot, with a cry of triumph, on his enemy.
Leaping immediately to the ground, he darted towards him with a bound like a tiger, and raised his poignard to finish him, in case he was not quite dead.
But his arm fell powerless by his side, and he started back with a howl of disappointment and rage.
At the same moment he was vigorously seized from behind, and stretched upon the grass before he had even had the time to attempt to resist.
"Eh, eh, companion," said Diogo to him in a railing voice; "how do you like that? It is well done, is it not?"
This is what had happened:—
Diogo had immediately decided that if he continued to fly in a straight line, his enemy, mounted on a fresh horse, would not be long in overtaking him, and that even if he escaped him, he would inevitably fall into the hands of the Guaycurus.
He had then calculated his flight, so as to deviate by degrees in an imperceptible manner at first, in order to avoid the spot where he supposed their enemies had established their camp.
This first stratagem had completely succeeded. Malco Diaz, blinded by the desire to overtake Diogo, had followed him in the tracks that he had made, without caring to explain to himself the reasons for his route.
When the Indian had arrived at the outskirts of a wood, he had jumped to the ground, and with that remarkable dexterity which those of his race possess, he had made a sham horseman with grass, and covered it with the clothing which he himself wore; then, after having firmly attached it to the back of the horse, under the saddle and to the flanks of which he had placed piercing thorns, he had started the animal off in the direction which he wished him to take.