At the sound of her voice, tears filled the large languishing eyes of the dying Trauco, but he smiled gently, and caught hold of her hands, which he pressed in his. Then he began to purr and coo softly, never taking his gaze from off her face. He took no notice of Lady Vane or the others. His whole attention appeared to be absorbed in the pretty fair-haired girl who seemed to sympathise in his sufferings, and to share his woe.
“Oh, Uncle Francis! cannot we save him? Are his wounds mortal?” inquired the girl, looking round piteously at the baronet, who advanced as she spoke and bent over the wounded creature. But as he did so a fierce look came into the Trauco’s eyes, he relaxed his hold of Topsie’s hands, and tried to raise himself up on his elbows. He evidently meant mischief, and she, who knew his great strength, at once called out to her uncle to stand back. Warned by Topsie’s earnest voice Sir Francis retired, whereupon the Trauco relaxed his efforts and lay back again. Once more his hands seized those of Topsie, and held them gently, while the great, dark eyes were riveted again to her face. Suddenly a shiver ran through his huge frame, and she felt his grasp tighten, while a piteous, pleading look came into his eyes. At the same time he drew her hands slowly towards his lips and gently kissed them, the purring and cooing being renewed. Only for a minute though; it was his last exertion. A heavy film clouded the beautiful eyes, one long, low sigh escaped him, and then the head of this strange being fell backwards as Death claimed him for his own.
“It is all over,” whispered Topsie, as she rose from his side; “let us get away quickly. If the other Traucos surround us, we shall fare badly. Aniwee, I have strange news for you. I will tell you when we reach the valley; but if you will all take my advice, let us keep silence till then.”
They made their way down the steep hillside, Topsie leading. She was wondering whether Cuastral and Piñone had escaped, and was revolving in her mind how she should break to Aniwee the startling tidings that they lived. An unforeseen incident assisted her.
They had reached the valley, and were proceeding to cross it, when something lying on the ground attracted their attention. On going up to it they perceived that it was an old poncho, the threads of which had been wrought in gold, but were now considerably faded. Something on it, however, caught Aniwee’s eye. She stooped to pick it up, and at the same time uttered a low cry. Then she stared fixedly at the poncho in her hands, on the breast of which was embroidered a single name, the name of Piñone.
“It is Piñone’s poncho,” she gasped. “It is the one which he wore when he started on the raid against the Cristianos, and from which he never returned; but how comes it here in the land of the Trauco?”
“That is just what I have to tell you, Aniwee,” now put in Topsie; “the great strange news I promised you is this. Both Cuastral and Piñone live. For many a weary day they have been the Traucos’ prisoners. Last night we all three escaped and reached yon forest, but the Traucos pursued, and I was retaken. Since then I have seen nothing of either Cuastral or Piñone, and I believe and hope that they have eluded their pursuers. If so, we may come upon them in the forest yet. You stare, but it is true. Inacayal told you they were dead, but Inacayal is a traitor. It was he who betrayed Cuastral and Piñone. To him they owe their long captivity.”
“And I have left my child in his care,” moaned the young Queen, wringing her hands. “He will do evil to the Guardia Chica. Ah! why did I not listen to Graviel, who never loved him?”
“Come, Aniwee, be brave; remember you are a Warrior Queen. Inacayal will not dare to harm the child amidst so many warriors,” said Topsie encouragingly, for the young Queen was visibly overcome.
“And we must give all our energies now to the assistance of Cuastral and Piñone, Aniwee,” put in Sir Francis Vane. “What the white Cacique has related is truly wonderful, and sounds like a dream.”