Antinahuel, in order to reanimate the courage of his people, resolved to make an example, and sacrifice the prisoners to Guecubu, the genius of evil—a sacrifice which we must admit is becoming more and more rare among the Aucas, but to which they have recourse sometimes when they wish to strike their enemies with terror, and to prove that they mean to carry on a war without mercy. Time pressed, the army must continue its march, therefore Antinahuel determined that the sacrifice should take place at once.
At some distance beyond the camp the principal Ulmens and warriors formed a circle, in the centre of which was planted the Toqui's hatchet. The prisoners were brought thither. They were not bound, but in derision were mounted upon a horse without ears and without a tail. Joan, as the more culpable, was to be sacrificed last, and witness the death of his companion as a foretaste. But if at that fatal moment everything seemed to have abandoned the valiant Indian, he had not abandoned himself.
The Chilian prisoner was a rough soldier, well acquainted with Araucanian manners, who knew perfectly what fate awaited him. He was placed near the hatchet, with his face turned toward the Chilian frontiers. They made him dismount from his horse, placed in his hands a bundle of small rods and a pointed stick, with which they obliged him to dig a trench, in which to plant one after the other the little wands, while pronouncing the names of the Araucano warriors he had killed in the course of his long career. To every name the soldier pronounced, he added some cutting speech addressed to his enemies who replied to him by horrible execrations. When all the wands were planted Antinahuel approached.
"The Huinca is a brave warrior," said Antinahuel; "he will fill up this trench with earth in order that the glory and valour of which he has given proofs during his life may remain buried in this place."
"So be it!" said the soldier; "but you will soon see that the Chilians possess more valiant soldiers."
And he carelessly threw the earth into the trench. This terminated, the Toqui made him a sign to place himself close to the hatchet; the soldier obeyed. Antinahuel raised his club and crushed his skull. The poor wretch fell, but was not quite dead, and he struggled convulsively. Two machis immediately sprang upon him, opened his breast and tore out his heart, which they presented, palpitating as it was, to the Toqui. The latter sucked the blood, and then passed the heart to the Ulmens, who followed his example.
In the meantime, the crowd of warriors seized upon the carcass, which they cut to pieces in a few minutes, reserving the bones to make war whistles of. They then placed the head of the prisoner on a pike, and danced round it to the sound of a frightful song, accompanied by the pipes made from the bones.
Joan's eye and ear were on the watch at the moment when this frightful saturnalia were at their apogee, he judged the time propitious, turned his horse, and fled as fast as he could. A few minutes confusion ensued, of which Joan took full advantage; but the Araucanos hastened to pursue him. He soon perceived that the distance between him and his enemies rapidly diminished. He was passing by the side of a hill, whose steep ascent could not be climbed by horses, and with the quickness of conception peculiar to brave men he divined that this would be his only chance of safety. He guided his horse so as, in a manner, to brush the hill, and get upright in his saddle. The Araucanos came up, uttering loud cries. All at once, seizing a strong branch of a tree, he sprang from his saddle, and climbed up the branch with the velocity of a tiger cat. The warriors shouted with rage and astonishment at beholding this extraordinary feat.
Nevertheless, the Araucanos had by no means given up all hopes of retaking their prisoner. They left their horses at the foot of the mountain, and half a score of the most zealous and active set off upon Joan's track. But the latter had now some space in advance. He continued to mount, clinging by feet and hands, and only stopping when nature commanded to take breath.
But he found that a longer struggle would be useless; that at length he was really lost.