“Warriors!” he cried, “has not Gilwinikush fought the hated enemy on our ground, on our behalf, and shall we scout advice from our best friends? Not so. Piñone bids ye charge and surround the Cristianos, and he will give a horse in exchange for every prisoner.”
As he spoke the Araucanian warrior turned, and with Gilwinikush charged straight upon the scene of battle. But as they reached it, the sharp order was passed along the ranks of Araucanians to open and surround, and like magic it was done. The effect, too, was magical; the Cristianos saw it was hopeless to resist, and their leader bade them surrender, an order they were not loth to obey. But one of the Cristianos apparently did not heed this command. He was engaged in fierce combat with an Araucanian youth, who parried his furious blows with a strange skill. It seemed as though both had resolved that one or the other must die, so obstinately and determinedly did both dispute the struggle for mastery.
“It is Graviel!” exclaimed Piñone, as he eyed the combatants. “The boy fights well. Yet, have I not given the order to desist fighting? Has not the chief spoken? Why does the warrior disobey?”
He rode towards the fighting men as he spoke, his eyes keenly roving the battle field. Then for the first time he missed Aniwee.
Again his eyes scoured the plain. But ten minutes since, and he had seen her well, and in good fighting trim, but now he could see her nowhere. Then an anxious expression stole across his face, and a troubled look settled in his roving eyes.
“Aniwee,” he murmured, “where art thou?”
Unconsciously he quickened his pace, and came up with the combatants just as the seeming Cristiano, rushing at Graviel, had thrown his long arms round the slim youth’s form, and borne him from his horse by spurring his own forward. Quick as lightning, however, a knife flashed out in the hand of the young Araucanian, and before his assailant could disarm him, he had plunged it into that assailant’s breast.
With a yell of agony Graviel’s antagonist let go his hold. Not so the former, however, for seizing the wounded man round the neck, he dragged him from his horse, and the two rolled struggling to the ground.
In a moment Piñone was off his steed and bending over them. As he did so, he started back as if an adder had stung him. The next instant, however, he had swung his axe above his head, and brought it with fierce force upon the skull of Graviel’s foe. This settled for good and aye the life for which that foe was struggling. The victim relaxed his grasp of the Araucanian, his teeth became clenched, and he fell back dead. In that moment his features became disclosed, revealing those of Inacayal.
“So perish the traitor and serpent,” burst from Piñone’s lips, as he bent over Graviel and raised him up.