But again upon the ground, and standing with face toward the fig-tree, the gravity of its expression is resumed, and he seems to hesitate about returning to the place of bivouac, where his youthful companions are now no doubt enjoying the sweets of a profound slumber.
“A pity to disturb them!” he mutters to himself; “and with such a tale as I have now to tell. But it must be told, and at once. Now that everything’s changed, new plans must be thought of, and new steps taken. If we’re to enter the Indian town at all, it will have to be in a different way from what we intended. Caspita! how the luck’s turned against us!”
And with this desponding reflection, he moves off from the scaffold; and, making his way among the mausoleums, once more approaches the spot where the South American banyan casts its sombre shadow over them.
Chapter Forty Eight.
Breaking bad News.
Caspar has been mistaken in supposing the other two asleep. One of them is—Ludwig, who sleeps soundly, and to all appearance peacefully. Not that he is indifferent to the seriousness of the situation, or less anxious about the upshot, than Cypriano. He but slumbers, because he is naturally of a more somnolent habit than his cousin, as also, being the weaker of the two, from the effects of a journey so long sustained, and travelling at such a pace. Moreover, he is not even yet quite recovered from the damage done him by the gymnoti; their electricity still acting on his nervous system, and producing a certain lassitude.
There is yet another reason why Ludwig has let himself go to sleep—one of a moral nature. As is known, he still adheres to his belief in the fidelity of Naraguana, and, so believing, is least of them all apprehensive about the result. At this moment he may be dreaming of the old cacique, though little dreams he that his dead body is so near!
Altogether different is it with Cypriano. This night there is no sleep for him, nor does he think of taking any. Though he lay down alongside his cousin, wrapping himself in his poncho, he did not long remain recumbent. Instead, soon starting to his feet again, he has been pacing to and fro under the fig-tree, wondering where Gaspar has gone. For, as known, the gaucho had slipped off without making noise, or saying word.