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CHAPTER XIII.
THE AMBUSCADE

Curumilla and his two companions descended the steep sides of the Corcovado; if the ascent had been difficult, the descent was not less so. Everywhere escaped thousands of hideous creatures; and not unfrequently they caught glimpses of snakes, unfolding their threatening rings under the dead leaves which on all sides covered the ground. Sometimes they were obliged to crawl on their knees, at others to jump from branch to branch.

This painful and fatiguing march lasted nearly three hours. At the end of that time they found themselves again at the entrance of the grotto where they had left their horses. The two white men were literally knocked up, particularly the count. As for Curumilla, he was as fresh and active as if he had not gone a step. Physical fatigue seems to have no hold on the iron organisation of the Indians.

"My brothers require test," he said; "we will remain here for them to recover their strength."

A half hour passed away without a word being exchanged. Curumilla had disappeared for a time.

When he returned he drew from his belt a small box which he presented to the count, saying, "Take this."

"Oh!" cried Don Tadeo, joyfully, "coca!"

"Yes," said the Indian, "my father can take some."

"What is all that to do?" said the count.

"My friend," said Don Tadeo, "America is the promised land; its privileged soil produces everything: as we have the herb of Paraguay, which is so good a substitute for tea, we have coca, which, I assure you, advantageously supplies the place of the betel, and has the faculty of restoring the strength and reviving the courage."

"The deuce!" said the young man. "You are too serious, Don Tadeo, to leave me for an instant to suppose you wish to impose upon my credulity; give me quickly, I beg, some of this precious drug."

Don Tadeo held out to the count the coca he had prepared. The latter put it into his mouth without hesitation. Curumilla, after having carefully reclosed the box and returned it to his belt, saddled the horses. All at once a sharp firing was heard.

"What is all that?" Louis cried, springing up.

"The fight beginning," Curumilla replied coolly.

At that moment the cries became redoubled.

"Come!" said Don Tadeo; "one hour's delay cannot cause any great harm to my daughter."

"To horse, then," said the chief.

As they drew nearer, the noise of the fierce fight that was raging in the defile became more distinct; they recognised perfectly the war cry of the Chilians mixed with the howlings of the Araucanos; now and then bullets were flattened against the trees, or whizzed around them.

"Halt!" cried the Ulmen suddenly.

The horsemen checked their horses, which were bathed in sweat. Curumilla had conducted his friends to a place which entirely commanded the outlet of the defile on the side of Santiago. It was a species of natural fortress, composed of blocks of granite, strangely heaped upon one another by some convulsion of nature, perhaps an earthquake. These rocks, at a distance, bore a striking resemblance to a tower; and their total height was about thirty feet. In a word, it was a real fortress, from which a siege might be sustained.

"What a fine position," Don Tadeo observed.

They dismounted: Curumilla relieved the horses of their equipments, and let them loose in the woods. A slight movement was heard from among the leaves, the boughs of the underwood parted, and a man appeared. The Ulmen cocked his gun. The man who had so unexpectedly arrived had a gun thrown on his back, and he had in his hand a sword, crimson to the hilt. He ran on, looking around him on all sides, not like a man who is flying, but, on the contrary, as if seeking for somebody. Curumilla uttered an exclamation of surprise, quitted his hiding place, and advanced towards the newcomer.

"I was seeking my father," he said earnestly.

"Good!" Curumilla replied; "here I am."

"Let my son follow me," said Curumilla, "we cannot stay here."

The two Indians climbed the rocks, at the summit of which Don Tadeo and the young count had already arrived.

The two whites were surprised at the presence of the newcomer, who was no other than Joan; but the moment was not propitious for asking explanations; the four men hastened to erect a parapet. This labour completed, they rested for a while.

"When I saw," he said, "that the prisoner had succeeded in escaping, in spite of the valiant efforts of the men who escorted him. I thought it would be best you should be acquainted with this news, and I plunged into the forest, and came in search of you."

"Oh!" said Don Tadeo, "if that man is free, all is lost."

The four men placed themselves, gun in hand, on the edge of the platform. The number of the fugitives increased every instant. The whole plain, just before so calm and solitary, presented one of the most animated spectacles. From time to time men were to be seen falling, many of them never to rise again; others, more fortunate, who were only wounded, made incredible efforts to rise. A squadron of Chilian horsemen came out at a gallop, driving before them the Araucanos, who still resisted. In advance of this troop a man mounted on a black horse, across the neck of which a fainting woman was reclining, was riding with the rapidity of an arrow. He gained ground constantly upon the soldiers.

"It is he," cried the Don, "it is the general."

At the same time the count and Curumilla fired. The horse stopped short, reared perfectly upright, fought the air with its forefeet, appeared to stagger for an instant, and then fell like lead, dragging its rider down with it.

The Indians, struck with terror at this unexpected attack, redoubled their speed, and fled across the plain.

CHAPTER XIV.
THE FORTRESS

"Quick, quick!" the count cried, springing up, "let us secure the general."

"One instant!" said Curumilla, phlegmatically; "the odds are not equal, let my brother look."

At the moment a crowd of Indians debouched from the defile. But these wore a good countenance. Marching in close older, they withdrew step by step, not like cowards who fled, but like warriors proudly abandoning a field of battle which they contested no longer, but retreated from in good order. As a rearguard a platoon of a hundred men sustained this brave retreat. All at once a fusillade broke out with a sinister hissing, and some Chilian horsemen appeared, charging at speed.

The Indians, without giving way an inch, received them on the points of their long lances. Most of the fugitives scattered over the plain had rallied to their companions and faced the enemy. There was during a few minutes a hand-to-hand fight, in which our adventurers wished to take a part. Four shots were suddenly fired from the temporary fortress, the summit of which was covered with a wreath of smoke. The two Indian chiefs rolled upon the ground. The Araucanos uttered a loud cry of terror and rage, and rushed forward to prevent the carrying off of their fallen chiefs. But with the quickness of lightning Antinahuel and Black Stag abandoned their horses and sprang up, brandishing their weapons, and shouting their war cry.

The Chilians, whose intention was only to drive back their enemies out of the defile, retired in good older, and soon disappeared. The Araucanos continued their retreat.

General Bustamente had disappeared some time before.

"We can continue our route," said Don Tadeo rising. "You see the plain is clear; the Araucanos and the Chilians have retired each their own way.

"There are too many eyes concealed there," said Curumilla, pointing to the forest.

"You are mistaken, chief," Don Tadeo objected; "the Araucanos have been beaten. Why should they persist in remaining here, where they have no longer anything to do?"

"My father is not acquainted with the warriors of my nation," Curumilla replied; "they never leave enemies behind them, when they have any hope of destroying them."

"Which means?" Don Tadeo interrupted.

"That Antinahuel has been wounded, and will not depart without vengeance."

Don Tadeo was struck with the just reasoning of the Indian.

"For all that, we cannot remain here," said the young man. "It is incontestable that in a few days we shall fall into the hands of these demons."

"Yes." said Curumilla.

"Well, I confess," the count continued, "that this prospect is not flattering. But I think there exists no position so bad that men cannot be extricated from."

"Does my brother know any means?" the Ulmen asked.

"In two hours night will be here. Then, when the Indians have fallen asleep, we will depart silently."

"Indians do not sleep," said Curumilla, coolly.

"The devil!" the young man exclaimed; "if it must be so, we will pass over their dead bodies."

"I allow," said Don Tadeo, "that this plan does not appear to me absolutely hopeless, I think, towards the middle of the night we might try to put it into execution."

"Good!" replied Curumilla, "I will act as my brothers please."

Since the departure of Valentine in the morning, the four men had not had time to eat, and hunger began to assert its claims, therefore they took advantage of the repose the enemy allowed them to satisfy it. The repast consisted of nothing but harina tostada soaked in water – rather poor food, but which want of better made our adventurers think excellent.

They were abundantly furnished with provisions – in fact, by economizing them, they had enough for a fortnight; but all the water they possessed did not exceed six leather bottles full, therefore it was thirst which they had most to dread.

The sun declined rapidly towards the horizon; the sky, by degrees, assumed the darkest line; the tops of the distant mountains became lost in thick clouds of mist – in short, everything announced that night would shortly cover the earth.

A troop composed of fifty Chilian lancers issued from the defile; on gaining the plain they diverged slightly to the left, and took the route that led to Santiago.

"They are palefaces," said Curumilla, coolly.

These horsemen formed the escort which Don Gregorio had assigned to Don Ramón, to accompany him to Santiago. All at once a horrible war cry, repeated by the echoes of the Quebradas, resounded close to them, and a cloud of Araucanos assailed them on all sides at once.

The Spaniards, taken by surprise, and terrified by the suddenness of the attack, offered but a feeble resistance. The Indians pursued them inveterately, and soon all were killed or taken. Then, as if by enchantment. Indians and Chilians all disappeared, and the plain once more became calm and solitary.

"Well," said Curumilla to Don Tadeo, "what does my father think now. Have the Indians gone?"

"You are right, chief, I cannot but allow. Alas!" he added, "who will save my daughter?"

"I will, please Heaven!" cried the count. "Listen to me. We have committed the incredible folly of thrusting ourselves into this rathole; we must get out, cost what it may; if Valentine were here his inventive genius would find us means, I am convinced. I will bring him back with me."

"Yes," said Curumilla, "my paleface brothers are right; our friend is indispensable to us: a man shall go, but that man shall he Joan."

With his knife Curumilla cut off a piece of his poncho, about four fingers in width, and gave it to Joan, saying – "My son will give this to Trangoil-Lanec, that he may know from whom he comes."

"Good!" said Joan; "where shall I find the chief?"

"In the toldería of San Miguel."

The three men shook hands with him warmly. The Indian bowed, and began to descend. By the last glimpses of daylight they saw him creep along to the first trees of the mountain of Corcovado; when there, he turned round, waved his hand to them, and disappeared in the high grass. A gunshot, then, almost immediately followed by a second, resounded in the direction taken by their emissary.

"He is dead!" the count cried in despair.

"Perhaps he is!" replied Curumilla, after some hesitation; "but my brother may now perceive that we are really surrounded."

"That is true!" Don Tadeo murmured. And he let his head sink down into his hands.

CHAPTER XV.
PROPOSALS

Don Tadeo and his companions set to work to fortify themselves. They raised a sort of wall, by piling stones upon one another to the height of eight feet; and as in that country the dews are very heavy, by means of Curumilla's lance, and that of Joan, which he had left behind him, they established something like a tent, by stretching upon them two ponchos.

These labours occupied the greater part of the night. Towards three o'clock in the morning Curumilla approached his two companions, who were struggling in vain against the sleep and fatigue that oppressed them.

"My brothers can sleep for a few hours," he said.

The two men threw themselves down on the horsecloths and very soon were fast asleep. Curumilla now glided down the declivity of the rocks, and arrived at the base of the fortress.

The chief took off his poncho, stretched himself on the ground, and covered himself with it. This precaution being taken, he took his mechero from his belt, and struck the flint without fearing, thanks to the means of concealment he had adopted, that the sparks should be seen in the darkness. As soon as he had procured a light, he collected some dry leaves at the foot of a bush, blew patiently to kindle the fire till the smoke had assumed a certain consistency, then crept away as he had come, and regained the summit of the rocks. His companions still slept.

"Hugh!" he said to himself, with satisfaction, "we need not now be afraid that the marksmen will hide in the bushes beneath us."

Shortly a red light gleamed through the darkness, which increased by degrees. The flames gained so rapidly that the summit of the mountain appeared almost immediately to be on fire.

The object Curumilla had proposed to himself was attained; places which an hour before had offered excellent shelter had become completely exposed. Don Tadeo and the count, awakened by the cries of the Indians, naturally thought an attack was being made, and hastily joined the Ulmen.

"Eh!" said Don Tadeo, "who lighted this bonfire?"

"I!" Curumilla replied; "see how the half-roasted bandits are scuttling away!"

His two companions took part in his glee.

From want of aliment, the fire was extinguished as rapidly as it had been lighted, and the adventurers turned their eyes towards the plain. They uttered a simultaneous cry of surprise and alarm. By the first rays of the rising sun, and the dying flames of the conflagration, they perceived an Indian camp surrounded by a wide ditch.

"Hum!" said the count, "I do not see how we shall extricate ourselves."

"Look there!" Don Tadeo exclaimed, "it seems as if they wanted to demand a parley. Let us hear what they have to say."

Several men had left the camp, and these men were unarmed. One of them, with his right hand, waved over his head one of those starred flags which serve the Araucanos as standards.

"Let one of you come down," a voice shouted, which Don Tadeo recognised as that of General Bustamente, "in order that we may lay before you our conditions."

"If one of us descends," said the count, "will he be at liberty to rejoin his companions if your proposals are not accepted?"

"Yes," the general replied, "on the honour of a soldier."

"I will come," the young man cried.

He then laid down his arms, and with the activity of a chamois, leaped from rock to rock and at the end of five minutes found himself face to face with the leaders of the enemy. They were four: Antinahuel, Black Stag, Bustamente and another. The general and Antinahuel had wounds in the head and the breast, while Black Stag wore his arm in a sling.

"Caballero," said Don Pancho, with a half smile, "the sun is very hot here; are you willing to follow us to the camp? You have nothing to fear."

"Señor," the young man replied, haughtily, "I fear nothing – my actions might satisfy you of that. I will follow."

"If you are afraid, señor," said the general, "you can return."

"General," retorted the young man, haughtily. "I have your word of honour, besides which there is one thing you are ignorant of."

"What is that, señor?"

"That I am a Frenchman, general."

"Your hand, señor," he said; "you are a brave young man, and it will not be my fault, I swear to you, if you do not go back satisfied."

The five personages now proceeded silently for several minutes through the camp, till they came to a tent much larger than the rest, where a number of long lances tied together, with scarlet pennons at their points, stuck in the ground, denoted that it was the hut of a chief. Buffalo skulls, lying here and there, served as seats. In one corner, upon a heap of dry leaves, reclined a woman, with her head enveloped in bandages. This was the Linda. She appeared to be sleeping. On the entrance of the party, however, a flash of her wild-looking eye gleamed through the darkness of the hut.

Everyone seated himself, as well as he could, upon a skull. When all were placed, the general said, in a short, clear manner —

"Now, then, señor, let us know upon what conditions you will agree to surrender?"

"Your pardon, señor," the young man answered; "we do not agree to surrender on any conditions whatever. It is you who have proposals to make."

CHAPTER XVI.
THE MESSENGER

Joan remained a short time, crouched in the high grass, reflecting. Presently he began to run. Satisfied that he was alone, he unrolled his lasso, pulled out the running noose, and fastened it to the end of a bush. Upon this bush he tied his hat so that it could not fall; he then retreated with great caution, unrolling his lasso as he went. When he had gained the extremity of the lasso, he drew it gently, by little pulls, towards him, giving a slight oscillating movement to the bush.

This movement was perceived by the sentinels; they sprang towards the bush, saw the hat, and fired. In the meantime, Joan scampered away, with the swiftness of a guanaco.

He arrived within sight of San Miguel at three o'clock in the morning. When he entered the toldería, shadow and silence prevailed on all sides; the inhabitants were asleep, a few dogs were baying the moon; he did not know how to find the men he was in search of, when the door of a hut opened, and two men, followed by an enormous Newfoundland dog, appeared upon the road.

Joan remembered having seen at Valdivia, with the Frenchmen, a dog like the one that had given him so formidable a welcome; and, being a man of prompt resolution, he formed his without hesitation, and cried with a loud voice —

"Are you the Muruche, the friend of Curumilla?"

"Curumilla!" Trangoil-Lanec exclaimed, as he drew nearer; "if he sends you to us, you must have something to report to us?"

"Are you the persons I seek?" Joan asked.

"Yes, but in the hut, and by the light of a candle, we shall recognise each other better than here."

The three men entered the hut, followed by the dog. Without losing time, Trangoil-Lanec took out his mechero, struck a light, and lit a candle.

"Good!" he said, "it is he whom Curumilla once sent to Valdivia."

"Yes," Joan replied.

Joan pressed that loyal hand, Trangoil-Lanec turned towards Joan, saying —

"I expected last night, at sunset, the arrival of Curumilla and two friends."

Joan bowed respectfully, and drew from his belt the piece of stuff which Curumilla had sent.

"A piece of Curumilla's poncho!" Trangoil-Lanec exclaimed violently. "Of what terrible news are you the bearer?"

"The news I bring is bad; nevertheless, at the time I left them, Curumilla and his companions were in safety, and unwounded."

"Curumilla cut this piece off his poncho, saying, as he gave it to me, 'Go and find my brothers, show them this stuff, then they will believe you.' I set out, I have travelled twelve leagues since sunset, and here I am."

Joan then made the recital they required of him, to which Valentine and the Ulmen listened with the greatest attention.

What was to be done? These three indomitable men found themselves opposed by an impossibility, which rose implacable and terrible before them. Valentine was the first to decide.

"Good Heavens!" he exclaimed, "since we have nothing left but to die with our friends, let us hasten to join them."

"Come, then," the two Indians replied. They left the hut just as the sun was rising.

The two men leaned into their saddles. Then commenced a desperate journey. It lasted six hours, then in sight of Corcovado.

"Here we must dismount," said Joan.

The horses were abandoned, and the three companions began to climb the mountain.

"Wait here for me," said Joan; "I will see how the land lies after a while."

His companions threw themselves on the ground, and he crept away. Instead of ascending higher, the Indian soon disappeared behind one of the numerous masses of granite. His absence was so long, that his friends were preparing to resume their march, at whatever risk, when they saw him come running quickly.

"Well, what is going on?" Valentine asked. "What makes you have such a joyful countenance?"

"Curumilla," Joan replied, "has burnt the forest behind the rocks."

"What good advantage can that conflagration procure us?"

"An immense one. The warriors of Antinahuel were concealed among the bushes and beneath the trees; they have been forced to retire."

"Come on, then," cried Valentine.

"Let us be gone," said Valentine, "it will be hard if, with the assistance of these three resolute men, I cannot save my poor Louis."

Followed by his dog Cæsar, who looked at him, wagging his tail, he followed Trangoil-Lanec, who trod in the steps of Joan. In twenty minutes they found themselves at the foot of the rocks, from which Don Tadeo and Curumilla made them joyous signals of welcome.