In the evening, though they could ill spare them, they had to kill two or three horses for food. The next day they fell in with an ostrich-hunter, who, not knowing what had taken place during his absence, was quietly returning to Sandy Point. His troop of horses was, of course, an invaluable prize to the mutineers, and him they forced to go with them, in order that with his dogs he might help to supply them with food. He contrived to lag behind the main band, however, and when once fairly amongst the foot-stragglers, he suddenly turned round, and, galloping away, made good his escape, unpursued by the mutineers, who had no inclination to tire their horses unnecessarily.
They now conceived the plan of surprising the Indians, with the object of massacring them and seizing their horses and dogs, but unforeseen circumstances again transpired to frustrate their intentions. Five or six mutineers had left Sandy Point on the first day of the mutiny, and these men, on passing through the Indian encampment, besides stealing several horses, had killed an Indian who had remonstrated with them. This incident put the Indians on the alert; they despatched scouts in all directions, and as soon as these latter announced the coming of the main band, the camp was hurriedly broken up, and long before the mutineers arrived at Campo de Batalla, the site of the encampment, the Indians were half-way to the Cordilleras, and far out of reach of pursuit.
The day after their last disappointment poor Isidoro fell into their hands. He had crossed the Gallegos, which in the meantime had fallen considerably, two days before, and was travelling leisurely towards Sandy Point, little dreaming of what was in store for him, when one evening, on turning a bend in some cañon, he suddenly stumbled on the mutineers' camp. He was immediately surrounded, dragged from his horse, and taken to Riquelmes, who, without saying why or wherefore, ordered him to prepare to be shot within five minutes. Any attempt at resistance was, of course, useless, and Isidoro quietly resigned himself to his fate. Ten men were told off to do the fatal office, and Riquelmes was just going to give the command to fire, when it suddenly occurred to him that Isidoro might be useful for tracking the Indians, to find whom the mutineers still thought it was possible, and accordingly he agreed to spare Isidoro's life, warning him that, should he attempt to escape, he would be punished with immediate death.
The next day they continued their march. Isidoro, surrounded by a strong guard, was allowed to ride on horseback, his other horses, twenty-seven in number, being of course requisitioned by the mutineers. During the first day no opportunity to escape presented itself, but on the second day such an occasion occurred, and Isidoro adroitly profited by it. In the course of the march some specks were observed moving about on the horizon, which Riquelmes and his followers fancied must be the Indians; and appeal being made to Isidoro, he confirmed their supposition, although his own superior power of vision enabled him to detect that the specks in question were nothing but guanacos. Whereupon ensued great excitement. A halt was immediately made, and a council of war held, with the object of determining some ruse by means of which to obtain the Indians' horses. After everybody had spoken, Isidoro offered to decoy the Indians into the hands of the mutineers on condition that, in the event of his being successful, his own horses should be returned to him, and he should be allowed to go back to Sandy Point.
Isidoro was well known to most of the mutineers by reputation as a man of great craft and adroitness, and as they had no doubt of his ability to be as good as his word, his offer was eagerly accepted. He then explained that in the first place it was necessary, before maturing his plans, that he should reconnoitre the Indian camp, and in order not to arouse the suspicions of Riquelmes, he requested that two men should be sent to accompany him. Of these two he had no doubt that he would be able to dispose in some way or other, as soon as he had got a safe distance from the main band, as, strange to say, his capturers had neglected to take his revolver from him. The rest of his escape he left to Providence and his good horse.
But Fate was willing to make matters easier for him than he anticipated. Riquelmes was completely taken in by this little artifice, and, fearing lest the sight of the Chilians should awaken mistrust in the minds of the Indians, he suggested that Isidoro should go alone.
Five minutes afterwards Isidoro was leisurely cantering over the plain in the direction of the mysterious specks, to whose timely appearance he owed his sudden release. After he had gone about two miles, the plain was crossed by a deep cañon. Into this he descended, disappearing, of course, from view of the mutineers, who expected to see him shortly emerge again on the opposite side. How long they watched for his reappearance is neither here nor there, but after a certain lapse of time it no doubt gradually began to dawn upon them that they had been guilty of considerable simplicity, and that in all probability they would never see Isidoro again.
As for him, the moment he reached the bottom of the cañon, he clapped spurs to his horse, and followed its windings at breakneck speed till night-fall, and then, after a short rest, he rode up on the plain, and commenced travelling southwards again, so that by daybreak he was many miles behind the mutineers, and perfectly secure from any chance of being pursued. He was, of course, happy to escape with his life, but all his horses being lost, he was now a poor man; his prediction as to the unfortunate issue to his trip, which he had made on losing his whip in crossing the Santa Cruz, was thus strangely verified. It was providential, after all, that Guillaume and I had crossed the Gallegos when we did; for we should otherwise have doubtless been taken prisoners by the mutineers, together with Isidoro, and being bouches inutiles, they would probably have shot us.
The mutineers slowly worked their way northwards, their numbers being thinned by the fatal disputes, which were of frequent occurrence. The horseless stragglers, too, unable to keep up with the main body, gradually died off from starvation and exposure, and finally, in the month of February, an expedition sent to the Patagonian coast by the Argentine Government, captured all that remained of the band, in the persons of about forty half-starved wretches, who were found wandering about the country somewhere in the vicinity of Port Desire. They were taken up to Buenos Ayres, and some difficulty as to their extradition having arisen between the Chilian and the Argentine Governments, they are still in prison in that city. The most culpable of the band taken prisoners by the Magellanes were shot at Sandy Point, March, 1879, and the others were condemned to various periods of penal servitude.