“I have given you a lesson, he said. In future, try to remember that Indian parents have hearts as well as you.”
Andresito’s first act on arriving at the Plaza was certainly not that of a bloodthirsty tyrant; for, marshalling his men on foot, he led them straight into the cathedral to hear Mass, and as soon as the service was ended, began to converse amicably with the principal inhabitants of the town. The cowardly commandant, Bedoya, had found a place of concealment; perhaps his conscience pricked him, for only a few weeks before he had instigated the massacre of an entire Indian village. At any rate, he would not face the Guaycurus, and in imitation of their valiant leader, the whole garrison deserted their barracks, leaving them at the new-comers’ disposal.
In Mr. Postlethwaite, Andresito speedily recognised a far-seeing, wise, and courageous old man, whose advice would be worth listening to; and after a few days, the Englishman’s influence over him became so great that, during the young leader’s occasional outbursts of ungovernable temper or drunkenness, his 36 followers would invariably send for the tactful merchant and beg him to manage their chief for them.
No doubt this peaceful state of things might have lasted indefinitely but for two unpleasant factors; the first of which was the spite and jealousy of Mexias, the Indian chief’s secretary—a vulgar toady and adventurer who could not be loyal to white man or red, and who, alarmed at the willingness with which Andresito listened to Postlethwaite’s counsels, lost no opportunity of poisoning his mind against the honest merchant.
The second probable cause of trouble was the ill-bred conduct of the Spanish and Portuguese residents towards the Indian chiefs. We all know, either from history or experience, that it is dangerous and unwise to ignore the natural barrier that exists between the white and the coloured races; but that is no reason why a man should be gratuitously insulted because he is an Indian; and when Andresito found himself regarded socially with contempt and ridicule by people who, a fortnight earlier, would have knelt and grovelled to him for their lives, he was not unnaturally out of temper.
From these two causes, relations became more and more strained, and one morning a file of soldiers appeared at Postlethwaite’s house, arrested him on a variety of stupid and trumped-up charges, and lodged him in the common prison among criminals of the lowest type. His elder daughter at once went to Andresito’s hotel, but could not obtain an interview with him till the next day. Then the chief happened to be in a good humour, and after some little argument, 37 admitted that the arrest was due to Mexias’ having told him that her father meditated escaping to Buenos Ayres to warn the Portuguese; and on the girl’s indignantly denying this, the prisoner was set at liberty.
As a peace-offering for this affront to the Europeans, Andresito gave a great dinner-party to the chief residents, which was to be followed by a display of picturesque Indian dances. Very few of the Spaniards or Portuguese accepted the invitation, and those who did were particularly offensive in their comments on the dancing. Andresito left the hall in a towering rage.
The following morning the Postlethwaite household was again disturbed by a visit from Indian soldiers.
“What now?” asked the merchant, losing patience.
“All those who received invitations to the General’s entertainment last night are to come and report themselves; the gentlemen at the Plaza and the ladies at the barracks,” said a soldier civilly.