Perhaps they have gone up to the mountains or into the wastes of the interior, where the Golden Land has already sprung into existence, and concerning which so many wonderful stories have been related to adventurous Spaniards about the monks Cabeça de Vaca and Niça: where wild people were walking about in civilised clothing, where the towns were laid out with emerald and turquoise, and whose fort Cibolla was ten miles long.
Some people who tried to find out this remarkable land, never returned from it. In the time of Valdivia the Spanish imagination became excited about this El Dorado. If any wondered how Bria Rocca's people disappeared, without leaving a trace behind them, they could console themselves with the fact that they were now very happy, and that they had gone in search of brethren to Cibolla town, where they were now wallowing in milk and honey. Although they wondered why they could not follow the Indians, the Spaniards now quietly settled in Chili; they have ceased to dig trenches round the town, and to post guards along the roads; they no longer teach their bloodhounds to scent out the two-footed wild animal; there is peace and tranquillity in the whole country. The merchants count out their money and the great lords lavishly spend it; pretty women walk about in silks, and little children ride on their fathers' knees. Yes, yes! the Spaniards have everything—riches, happiness, and splendid towns, also beautiful women and tiny, chattering offspring. . . . .
"Let us wait until they can repay us," said Bria Rocca.
A new lake would be found, and the waterfalls would have cut for themselves new passages. Still, Bria Rocca's people have taken refuge there with their herds and flocks, whilst the eager searchers for El Dorado have failed to discover the way to fairyland. The Chilian volcano has rested for a hundred years, and only a few craters have shown from a distance that he too was one of those gigantic bombarders of the heavens who now rests conquered. But perhaps he sleeps merely—such great beings dream long. Whilst, then, he is thus dreaming, the Southern voluptuous plants have entwined themselves round about him, and every kind of grass and tree derives nourishment from his presence; at his foot a forest of red cedar has formed, and on his head tamarisk bushes live and flourish. From the autumn greenery which covers the mountain, dark caverns peep out. These are the mouths of ancient lava-streams by which one might get at the mountain's heart. According to the stories of the Omagua tribes, it was through such that the Aruacans made their way to the Cordillera interior. There were always a few adventurers who attempted to penetrate these caverns in search of the Golden Land, but they, as a rule, never returned, and nobody troubled about them. Once, however, two monks, accompanied by an Indian who understood the language, left Sant-Jago in search of this mysterious country. Had all three disappeared, no one would have made much ado; but it so happened that the Indian returned soon afterwards without the monks. He was interrogated on the subject, but he merely said that his comrades had perished—in what way he declined to tell. He had sworn by the great teeth of Mahu-Mahu that he never should divulge the secret. Valdivia had him placed on the bench of torture, and it appears that he felt the thumb-screwing instruments, and boiling oil had greater effect upon him than the big teeth of Mahu-Mahu, and so he promised to disclose everything. According to his story he and his comrades, after they had provided themselves with torchlights, entered the Chillon cavern, where, after proceeding a few hundred yards, they discovered on the moist soil the footprints of Aruacans. They knew them to be theirs, for they were marked by india-rubber heels, worn as a rule by the Aruacans to protect them from serpents. As they advanced further the cavern got wider in extent, and from its steep sides great rocks stood out. The descent, which became steeper and steeper as they advanced, was crossed by a stream that one could hear but not see from the cavern's mouth. Over this stream a bamboo suspension bridge become visible later on, similar to that which the Aruacans had erected over the Matocka river.
The volcanic footpaths got more and more difficult to tread upon, and at times he and his companions were obliged to climb upon the rocks, as if they were trying to ascend a mountain.
Finally the opening became so narrow that two men could hardly walk through it, and there they reached a spot that seemed hollowed out beneath. They advanced further when the earth gave way, and they all fell down to the cavern depths. It was a trap from which there was no escape. After they had for a few hours vainly endeavoured to rise from this pitfall, they suddenly heard sounds of voices, and—recognised the Aruacans. They recognised them from the wool which covered their bodies. The Indians pulled them up with long ropes, blindfolded them, and bound their hands behind their backs, driving them on between two tough trees. Ere long the echo from the narrow passage ceased, and the atmosphere revealed to them that they were in the open air. When their eyes were unfolded they saw they were in the Chillon crater. It was a dreadful smoking valley, with a funnel-like descent, whose sides were then just as bare as when the last eruption had taken place.
All around there were red-brown stone piles, quite burnt out—dead for ever—on which no plant could live. Not even a piece of moss or of lichen was to be seen upon them.
Lower down the valley got compressed, and on its sides numberless small holes, like wasps' nests, were visible. Neither grass nor flower could be observed anywhere—nothing of that kind, indeed, but a few pale green trees scattered about at intervals. These were upas-trees, in the poison of whose sap the Indians dip their spears. Every surrounding plant had been killed by their exhalations, so that they alone grew in the valley.
On the sides of this dreadful valley a wide, hollow border was to be seen; it represented the last active volcano; in appearance it resembled the gallery of a great amphitheatre. On this gallery stood the Aruacan fathers with Bria Rocca. Under it was formed a sort of semicircle, where many large china jugs might be seen placed near one another, whose mouths were for the most part covered with india-rubber; some were open. As the captives were brought before Bria Rocca two such jugs were procured, and the two monks, tied to a couple of columns, were then killed with two long axes, similar to those with which the Aruacans cut the hevea-trees. Their blood poured out into the jugs; their bodies were thrown down the precipice. After this the Indians carried away the jugs with the blood and placed them near the others. Soon thereafter numerous serpents peeped out of holes in the walls: in appearance they were like cigars. A traveller who does not know this serpent might be deceived, and, imagining it a cigar, pick it up—which would mean death. One bite from this serpent is fatal. These dreaded reptiles crept in thousands into the jugs in which the murdered Spaniards' blood had been placed, and when they filled them two Indians approached and carefully put two india-rubber covers over them, so as to prevent their exit.