These reasons, specious as they were, were still accepted as good by the officers. Cucharés breathed again, but he had not yet finished with the capataz.
"Good!" the latter said. "Strictly speaking, you might be right in your remarks, and I would put faith in your statements, had I not other and graver charges to bring against you."
The lepero shrugged his shoulders once more.
"I know, and can supply proof, that, by your remarks and insinuations, you sow discord and rebellion among the peons and troopers. This morning, before the réveillé, believing that no one saw you, you rose, and with your dagger pierced ten of the fifteen water skins still left us. The noise I made in running toward you alone prevented the entire consummation of your crime. At the moment when the captain gave us orders to assemble, I was about to warn him of what yon had done. What have you to answer to this? Defend yourself, if it be possible."
All eyes were fixed on the lepero. He was livid. His eyes, suffused with blood, were haggard. Before it was possible to guess his intention, he drew a pistol and fired at the capataz, who fell without uttering a cry; then with a tiger-bound he leaped on his horse, and started at full speed. There was an indescribable tumult. All rushed in pursuit of the lepero.
"Down with the murderer!" the captain shouted, urging his men by voice and gestures to seize the villain.
The Frenchmen, rendered furious by this pursuit, began firing on Cucharés as on a wild beast. For a long time he was seen galloping his horse in every direction, and seeking in vain to quit the circle in which the troopers had inclosed him. At length he tottered in his saddle, tried to hold on by his horse's mane, and rolled in the sand, uttering a parting yell of fury. He was dead!
This event caused extreme excitement among the soldiers: from this moment they felt that they were betrayed, and began to see their position as it really was—that is to say, desperate. In vain did the captain try to restore them a little courage; they would listen to nothing, but yielded to that despair which disorganises and paralyses everything. The count gave the order for departure, and they set out.
But whither should they go? In what direction turn? No trace was visible. Still they marched on, rather to change their place than in the hope of emerging from the sepulchre of sand in which they believed themselves eternally buried. Eight days passed away—eight centuries—-during which the adventurers endured the most frightful tortures of thirst and hunger. The troop no longer existed; there were neither chiefs nor soldiers; it was a legion of hideous phantoms, a flock of wild beasts ready to devour each other on the first opportunity.
They had been reduced to splitting the ears of the horses and mules in order to drink the blood.