As Topsie spoke the Queen entered. She looked a shade weary, and her wounded arm was stiff and painful. Her watch all night by the couch of the youth Graviel, had deprived her of the sleep which is so necessary to the young, after fatigue and excitement.
“Aniwee salutes the great Caciques,” she said, with an inclination of her head, and raising her right hand slightly. “Are they willing to accompany her to-day? A large herd of wild horses has been observed not an hour’s march from here, and the Caciques may like to join the Araucanos in attempting the capture of some of them. To-morrow we hunt the wild bull, and next day a puma fastness is to be stormed. The Caciques shall not want excitement or feel dull, if Aniwee can prevent it.”
“We will gladly accompany you, Aniwee, and we thank you much for your kind thoughts for our pleasure,” answered Topsie. “But, Aniwee, there is one thing I must tell you. My friends and myself desire to see the great gold mine of Or again, also the hut far up near the snows of the Andes peaks, where I, and you and my brother found that old white-haired man, living all alone. You remember it all, of course—how we went on with him to the mine of Or, while you went back to fetch Piñone; how, during our expedition to the mine, the old man died and was buried by the side of his long dead wife, on the banks of that dark mysterious river up which we had paddled to reach the mine; but I don’t think I ever told you the most wonderful thing of that wonderful adventure, how, in that old hermit of one hundred and thirteen years, I and my brother discovered an ancient relative, a great-great-uncle, in fact, whom every one thought had been drowned eighty years before; nor did I tell you, at the time, of the existence of the great gold mine of Or, which was discovered by Sir Harry Vane—for such was the name of the hermit—and shown to us. I did not make known its existence for the reason, that I wished to return later on and explore it in your company. And it is for this very purpose that we have sought you. Tell us, Aniwee. Will you come?”
The young Queen looked puzzled for a moment, and then replied:
“You know well that Aniwee has no fear. But she must consult the warriors of Piñone, and obtain their consent. Is she not pledged to rule over them for her child, and must she not consult their interests and those of the young Cacique?”
“You speak rightly and well, Aniwee,” put in Sir Francis; “you wish, in fact, to consult your people ere giving a definite reply? I am sure we respect your wishes.”
“The great Cacique understands Aniwee,” she answered in a grateful voice. “And now will they come to her toldo, and take some refreshment ere setting out on the trail?”
On entering Aniwee’s tolderia our white friends found a large fire burning therein. A pot, hanging on a tripod, simmered over the fire. Some fish on a gridiron stood near, and seven cups of steaming maté, with silver bombiglias stuck into each, stood round the fire.
To Harry and Topsie, this evidence of thoughtful attention on Aniwee’s part was all the more pleasing, inasmuch as they knew that it was not the custom of the Indians to eat before setting out on a journey. It was plain that she had not forgotten the habits of her white friends.
The baby Queen was rolling about on some skins, playing with her silver toys, and close by sat Graviel on a low stool. His face, arm, and leg were all neatly bandaged, the work of Blancha and Aniwee; for the former loved the handsome youth with tender devotion, and the latter made it her special care and pleasure to attend on Piñone’s favourite retainer, and the saviour of her child.