None of the Indians carried guns, and for that reason the Prince had more faith in the efficacy of his threat.
“Very well,” said the leader of the mounted Indians. “Follow us.”
It was but a short distance to the village or camp or tolderia; and, at the entrance to it, the Guaranis (for to that tribe they belonged) dismounted, and each of the white men found his bridle seized by an Indian.
“Who is your chief? Where is your cacique?” demanded Prince Adalbert impatiently.
His captors pointed to a young man who, accompanied by another much older, had just appeared from the largest of the huts and was coming towards them. The young chief proved to be a very mild-mannered 150 person. He said half apologetically that the tribe was poor, and that strangers were expected to make some offering on coming among them.
“We were prepared to make presents,” said the Prince good-humouredly, “but we object to being asked for them.”
The older man—evidently the Ahithophel of the tribe—whispered something, whereupon the chief said more spiritedly:
“You have been taken prisoners in our forest. You must ransom yourselves”—Ahithophel whispered again—“by giving up your arms and your baggage.”
Those of the Prussians who understood the cacique’s Spanish cocked their pistols.
“Patience; we must reason with them,” said the Prince in his own language.