THE PARTISAN.
We must now return to the Guaycurus chiefs, whom we left at the moment when, following Don Zeno Cabral, they entered a cavern where the Montonero—at least according to the words he made use of in accosting them—appeared to have given a rendezvous to the Cougar.
This cavern—the entry of which, without knowing it well, it was impossible to distinguish from without, by reason of the conformation of the ground of which it formed the centre, and of the difficulty with which it was reached—was vast and perfectly light, on account of a number of almost imperceptible fissures which allowed the light to penetrate at the same time as it renewed the air. At the bottom and on the sides several galleries opened, which were lost under the mountain at probably very great distances. The spot where the partisans stopped, that is to say at a few steps from the opening, contained several seats formed by blocks of oak awkwardly squared, and two or three masses of dried leaves, serving probably for beds to those who came to seek a temporary refuge in this place.
In the centre of the cavern a great fire was lighted. Over this fire, suspended by a chain from three stakes placed triangularly, was boiling an iron pot, while a quarter of guanaco, spitted on a ramrod fixed in the ground, was roasting very gently; some potatoes were cooking under the cinders, and several bullock-horn cups containing some harina tostada were placed near seats on the ground. The arms of Zeno Cabral, that is to say, his gun and his sabre, were leaning against one of the walls of the cavern; he had only kept his knife in his right pocket.
"Señores," said the partisan with a courteous gesture, "permit me to offer you the poor hospitality that the circumstances in which we are compel me to give you. Before anything else we will eat and drink together to establish confidence between us, and to remove all suspicion of treason."
These words were spoken in Portuguese; the captains answered in the same language, and sat, after the example of their Amphytrion, on the seats prepared for them.
Zeno Cabral then unhooked the pot and served with uncommon skill and vivacity, in the couis which he presented to his guests, some tocino, chorizo, and charqui, seasoned with camotes and ají, which form the national dish of these countries.
The meal commenced; the chiefs vigorously attacked the dishes placed before them, helping themselves with their knives instead of forks, and drinking in turn water slightly dashed with brandy to remove its brackishness.
The Indians do not speak as they eat, so their meals are generally short. After the charqui, it was the turn for the guanaco; then the harina tostada was taken, diluted with warm water, and at last Zeno Cabral made the maté[1] and offered it to his guests.