“Yes, mother, I thank God that He put it into my head to do so, for, as you truly say, that thief would otherwise have got clean away.”
“Look there; they are bringing him up before Cuastral,” put in Harry quickly. “Perhaps he will confess what he has done with the poor little Cacique. Poor Aniwee, how miserable she looks; and Graviel, I believe, has gone out of his mind. What a terrible spectacle he presents!”
A large circle had formed around the captive, who stood sullenly facing Cuastral and Piñone. It was strange, this latter thought, that Kai Chileno evinced no surprise at beholding his father and himself, a fact which at once impressed the young warrior with the belief, that this conspirator knew something of the plot, whereby he and Cuastral had been carried away captives from their people, and handed over to the mercies of the Traucos.
“Speak, Kai Chileno,” exclaimed Cuastral vehemently, “or by slow torture you die. What know you of the fate of the child of Piñone and Aniwee? Whither has it been spirited? Thou knowest Cuastral of old; beware that thou dost not lie.”
“And if I tell thee, Cuastral, that I know not, what then?” inquired the sullen thief, looking up boldly at the Araucanian Cacique.
“Then, as I have told thee, thou shalt die. Once only has Cuastral been fooled, and that was when a traitor betrayed him into the hands of the Cristianos. It shall never more happen, I tell thee, Kai Chileno,” answered the chief in a stern voice.
“But how can my lips tell thee that which I do not know?” continued the accused stubbornly.
The Cacique waved his hand.
“Warriors,” he commanded peremptorily, “place the prisoner on the fire, and let him burn to death.”
The wretch eyed first the Cacique and then the gleaming wood of the bivouac fire. Then he looked back at Cuastral. He saw nothing but a stern, determined face, and he knew that he must either confess or die.