So the council of chiefs had decided; and they had delayed until the morrow the punishment of their victim, to give her a night of anguish, of torment, and of terror.
When the sentence was made known, cries of joy welcomed it, and a furious delirium seized the Indians.
It was a night of orgies—a night of blood and of horror; brandy increased the excitement of these wild natives; dances, accompanied with perpetual yells, surrounded the young girl, and wound their fantastic chains about the stake to which she was fastened. Sometimes the circle narrowed, and enlaced her in its furious whirls: the Indians ran through the uncultivated fields, brandishing blazing pine-branches, and surrounding the victim with light.
And it was thus until sunrise, and worse yet when its first rays illuminated the scene. The young girl was detached from the stake, and a hundred arms were stretched out to drag her to execution, when the name of Martin Paz involuntarily escaped her lips, and cries of hatred and of vengeance responded.
It was necessary to climb by steep paths the immense pile of rocks which led to the upper level of the river, and the victim arrived there all bloody; a canoe of bark awaited her a hundred paces above the fall; she was deposited in it, and fastened by bonds which entered her flesh.
"Vengeance and death!" exclaimed the whole tribe, with one voice.
The canoe was hurried on with increasing rapidity and began to whirl.
Suddenly a man appeared on the opposite shore— It is Martin Paz! Beside him, are Don Vegal and Liberta.
"My daughter! my daughter!" exclaims the father, kneeling on the shore.
"My father!" replied Sarah, raising herself up with superhuman strength.