“It is possible that the Indians may have rallied and cut off the Spaniards,” he answered. “Yet I do not think that they will have had the courage to do so. At first I was almost hoping it, as I thought we might have a better chance of escaping, but then I remembered that though many of the Indians might have been my friends, the Spaniards are my countrymen. I trust no disaster has befallen them.”
Don Eduardo and his lieutenant returned after the consultation; and the latter, with a sergeant’s party, was ordered to proceed along the ravine, to ascertain what had become of the main body. We watched the lieutenant and his men enter the ravine and advance, till they were hid by a turn of the cliffs. Don Eduardo then called us to him, and asked us our opinion as to what was likely to have occurred. We both assured him that we did not think the Indians would have rallied. What we said appeared somewhat to relieve his mind, and sitting down on a rock, he lighted a cigar, and offered some to us, which we declined, as neither Pedro nor I smoked. The men meantime had piled their arms, and lighted fires to boil their cocoa and to cook their provisions. Some were thus employed, others were smoking, and others had thrown themselves on the ground to rest after the fatigues of the day. We learned that they had received notice of the march of Catari’s army from an Indian spy, many of whom were in the pay of the Spaniards. They had watched for them for several days, and at last the colonel commanding the force had resolved to occupy the post where he attacked them, till they should attempt to pass. The view around the spot we occupied was very picturesque. It was also a very strong natural position, while its picturesqueness was increased by the horses and baggage mules picqueted under the trees, the gay costumes of their drivers, the camp-fires, the piles of arms, and the groups of soldiers, in varied attitudes, scattered here and there.
The sun had set and the short twilight had come to an end, when the tramp of men’s feet at a distance reached our ears. We listened anxiously. It was that of trained soldiers; and in a short time we saw them looming through the gloom of the evening. As they drew near, the advanced guard uttered a shout to warn us of their approach, which was responded to by the party on the hill. Soon afterwards they appeared on the summit, and as they marched into the centre of the space, they piled their arms, and joined their comrades round the fires. Each man came laden with the spoils they had retaken from the Indians.
After a portion of the troops had filed by, there came, with two soldiers guarding each of them, some fifty Indians who had been taken prisoners, and preserved to grace their triumph. Poor wretches, we found that though their lives were for the present spared, their fate was sealed, and that it was intended by a public execution to strike terror into the hearts of their countrymen. Those who could not move fast enough were dragged forward by ropes fastened to their wrists, or urged on at the point of the sword. When they halted, they were all huddled together like sheep in a pen, and a strong guard placed over them to prevent their escape. From the words we overheard, the soldiers appeared to be recounting eagerly, to those who had been left as a reserve, the adventures of the day. Pedro and I were shortly summoned by Don Eduardo to attend the colonel; but fortunately he was too tired and hungry to interrogate us closely, and after a few questions he dismissed us, with permission to join several of his officers round their watch-fires.
We were surprised at seeing only three or four wounded men; and we learned that, with the exception of one killed, they were the only sufferers among the troops. They were in high spirits, as this was the first success the Spanish forces had met with since the commencement of the outbreak. They boasted that they had killed several thousands of the Indians, though their own loss had been so small. They had followed them beyond the defile, where the remainder, entirely broken and dispersed, had saved themselves in the recesses of the forest. The officers civilly invited us to partake of their supper, Don Eduardo having recommended us to their notice; and afterwards, the picquets having been placed, we all wrapped ourselves in our cloaks and lay down to sleep.
Chapter Thirteen.
A battlefield at night—Our experiences of a Peruvian prison.
I am not fond of dwelling on horrors; but I should fail to give a true picture of warfare and its effects, were I to neglect to describe those scenes which are its never-failing accompaniments. I tried to sleep; but at first the blaze of the fire, the voices of those around me, and the din of the camp, kept me awake; and when that had ceased, all the soldiers except the sentries, and even the Indian prisoners, having dropped off asleep, there came up from the depths of the mountain gorge a sound which, as I suspected its cause, effectually banished repose. Though rendered faint by distance, it came through the quiet night air with a distinctness which was truly terrible. I listened with painful attention. There were the shrieks and groans of human beings in their mortal agony, and the suppressed roar and hissing snarl of the fierce puma and the sanguinary ounce, as they disputed over their prey. Many Indians, I guessed too surely, had crawled, desperately wounded, into the crevices of the rocks, where they lay concealed as the Spanish troops passed by, and escaped instant death to suffer a lingering and more terrible fate at the last. All night long those melancholy sounds continued, and though they might have been heard by my companions, they did not appear to disturb their repose. I scarcely knew whether to envy or commiserate their apathy.