Captive, he does not call her; in this also feigning pretence. He tells her that the reason for their not taking her direct to the estancia is, because of a party of Guaycurus, their enemies, being out on the war path, and it was to discover the whereabouts of these he and his followers were out scouting, when the sad mischance, as he flippantly terms it, arose. That having learnt where the hostile Indians were, he had needs return at once and report to the warriors of his tribe; thus the excuse for his not seeing her to her home. They could not leave her alone in the wilderness, and therefore of necessity she was going with them to their town; afterwards to be taken back to the estancia—to her mother. With such false tales, cunningly conceived, does he endeavour to beguile the ears of his captive.
For all that they are not believed; scarcely listened to. She, to whom they are told, has reasons for discrediting them. Though but a child in years, Francesca Halberger is not childish in understanding. The strange experiences and perils through which she, and all related to her, had passed, have given her the discernment of a more mature age; and well comprehends she her present situation, with other misfortunes that have led to it. She is not ignorant of the young chief’s partiality for herself; more than once made manifest to her in signs unmistakable—by acts as well as words. Besides, what he is not aware of, she had overheard part of the speech which passed between him and the vaqueano, as the latter was entering the sumac grove, to do that deed which has left her without a father. Instead, therefore, of Aguara’s words deceiving her into a false confidence, they but strengthen the feeling of repulsion she has all along had for him. Whether listening or not, she makes no reply to what he says, nor even deigns to look at him. Sitting listless, dejected, with her eyes habitually bent upon the ground, she rides on as one who has utterly abandoned herself to despair. Too sad, too terribly afflicted with what is past, she appears to have no thoughts about the future, no hopes. Or, if at intervals one arises in her mind, it rests not on him now by her side, but her father. For as yet she knows not that Naraguana is dead.
If somewhat changed the personnel of the Indian troop, much more is it altered in the general aspect and behaviour of those who compose it—a very contrast to what was exhibited on their way downward. No longer mirthful, making the welkin ring with their jests and loud laughter; instead, there is silence upon their lips, sadness in their hearts, and gloom—even fear—on their faces. For they are carrying home one of their number a corpse, and dread telling the tale of it. What will the elders say, when they hear what has occurred? What do?
The feeling among Aguara’s followers may be learnt from a dialogue, carried on between two of them who ride in the rear of the troop. They have been speaking of their paleface captive, and extolling her charms, one of them saying how much their young cacique is to be envied his good luck, in possession of such a charming creature.
“After all, it may bring him into trouble,” suggests the more sage of the speakers, adding, “ay, and ourselves as well—every one of us.”
“How that,” inquires the other.
“Well; you know, if Naraguana had been living, he would never have allowed this.”
“But Naraguana is not living, and who is to gainsay the will of Aguara? He’s now our chief, and can do as he likes with this captive girl, or any other. Can’t he?”
“No; that he can’t. You forget the elders. Besides, you don’t seem to remember the strong friendship that existed between our old cacique and him the vaqueano has killed. I’ve heard say that Naraguana, just before his death, in his last words, left a command we should all stand by the palefaced stranger, her father, and protect him and his against every enemy, as long as they remained in the Chaco. Strange protection we’ve given him! Instead, help to the man who has been his murderer! And now returning home, with his daughter a captive! What will our people think of all this? Some of them, I know, were as much the white man’s friend almost as Naraguana himself. Besides, they won’t like the old cacique’s dying injunction having been thus disregarded. I tell you, there’ll be trouble when we get back.”
“No fear. Our young chief is too popular and powerful. He’ll not find any one to oppose his will; which, as I take it, is to make this little paleface his wife, and our queen. Well, I can’t help envying him; she’s such a sweet thing. But won’t the Tovas maidens go mad with jealousy! I know one—that’s Nacena—”