"Halloh, chief," he said, as he looked round, "tell me why you are laughing so. Were it only to follow your example, I should be glad to know the cause of this extreme gaiety."
Curumilla fixed his intelligent eye on him, and replied, with a smile full of good humour—
"The Ulmen is pleased."
"I can see that," Valentine replied, "but I do not know why, and want to do so."
"Curumilla has killed the bear," the Aucas said, sententiously.
"Nonsense!" Valentine remarked, in surprise.
"My brother can look, there is the chief's cousin."
Unicorn looked savage, but Valentine and his friends peered in the direction indicated by the Araucano. Curumilla's lasso, securely fastened to the branch on which the hunters were standing, hung downwards, with a black and clumsy mass swaying from its extremity. It was the bear's carcass.
Curumilla, during the conversation between Unicorn and his relative, carefully watched the animal's movement; like Valentine, its motions did not seem to him natural enough, and he wished to know the truth. Consequently, he waited the departure of his friends, fastened his lasso to a branch, and while the bear was carelessly descending from its perch, fancying it had got rid of its visitors, Curumilla lassoed it. At this unexpected attack the animal tottered and lost its balance—in short, it fell, and remaining suspended in the air; thanks to the slip knot, which pressed its throat and saved it from broken bones; as a recompense, however, it was strangled.
The hunters began drawing up the lasso, for all burned to know were they deceived. After some efforts the animal's corpse was stretched out on a branch. Valentine bent over it, but rose again almost immediately.