He was trying to think of the most potent argument to employ, when a sudden outcry arose on all hands, and more than half the Indians, including the chief and his evil genius, turned towards the river as though in haste to meet someone. The canoes which the travellers had seen from a distance were drawing up to the wooden landing-stage.
“What’s this? What are they all doing?” asked the Prince; as well he might, for his assailants, so clamorous and threatening only a moment before, were falling on their knees one after the other, crossing themselves and shouting jubilantly:
“The padre! The holy padre!”
A pleasant-faced, athletic-looking man, wearing a large sombrero and a priest’s cassock, was standing on the little quay, holding up his hand to bless the kneeling 151 crowd, and at the same time throwing a quick glance of curiosity towards the prisoners.
“At least he’s a white man,” said the Prince, much relieved, as he signed to Count Oriolla to dismount and go to speak to the new-comer. In a couple of minutes he saw both men hurrying towards him. The priest raised his hat and, in excellent German, introduced himself as a Scots Jesuit whose duty it was to make periodical visits to the camps that had no church, to administer the sacraments to the devout.
“You must look leniently on them,” he said when the position was explained. “They are just grownup children. I will see that a proper apology is made. I suspect I can put my hand on the black sheep.” He pointed at Ahithophel, and, speaking in Spanish, ordered him and the cacique to come forward. Before he had spoken for a couple of minutes, it was clear enough to the strangers that the good missionary knew the class of men with whom he had to deal. Led by the cacique, the Indians were soon sobbing and groaning in chorus; and even the grey-headed counsellor bewailed his indiscretion when, passing from the moral to the politic side of the question, the Scotsman hinted at the possibilities of a German invasion to avenge this insult to royalty; and ended by forbidding anyone in the village, as a penance, to receive any present whatever from the travellers.
The power that just one white man of quick brain and strong will had over all these savages seemed incredible. The Prussians remained in the village three days, and during that time the Indians strained every effort to please and entertain them; not an article of 152 their property was interfered with, and when, on leaving, the Prince—forgetting the padre’s prohibition—offered trifling presents of knives, jewellery, and silk handkerchiefs, everyone edged away as though these things were poison.
“They have been good children, Father,” pleaded the Prince, and so earnestly that the Jesuit was obliged to give way; whereupon the Guaranis accepted the gifts with tears of gratitude, and readily offered a supply of guides who would ensure the travellers against molestation by others of their tribe between there and the Andes.
On the last day of their stay it was reported that a tapir had been seen in the forest a mile or two back; and the Scots cleric, himself a keen sportsman, undertook to show the Prussians a native hunt at its best. In this, however, he did not quite succeed, for some of the younger members of the tribe stole a march on the rest, and the visitors only saw the “finish.” The lads had started earlier in the morning, had discovered the tapir and driven him through the forest towards the river; and, as the white men reached the most practicable path, the ungainly beast charged out of it and made straight towards the water. But the cacique was too quick for him. Spurring his horse with the sharp angles of his stirrups, he dashed from the rear of the Prussians and flung his lasso over the animal’s head.
But this was not all. The tapir cared no more for this than a whale does for a single harpoon and line, and rushed straight on for the river, apparently dragging the hunter with him. All in a moment, however, there 153 came a clatter of hoofs, a cloud of dead leaves, chips, and dust, and four of the beaters dashed out from the forest path with their lassoes poised, and each bawling like a man possessed. Two lassoes whistled past the Prince’s head and seemed to fall at exactly the same moment on that of the tapir; these were followed by a third, which, as the beast had made a half stop, just missed him; then by a fourth, which fell unerringly.