The Guide of the Desert

CHAPTER IX

THROUGH THE DESERT

While, according to his orders, the captain of the soldados da conquista caused the camp to be raised and the mules to be laden, preparing everything for an immediate departure, the marquis – a prey to a terrible agitation – strode about his tent, cursing the fate which appeared to dog his steps, and obstinately to destroy his most skilful plans, constantly removing far from him at the moment when he thought to seize it, the rich treasure that he coveted – a treasure which, since he had laid himself out to seek it, had cost him so much fatigue and weariness of every kind, and for which he had during so long a time braved immense perils, and almost lost his honour.

Suddenly he stopped, striking his forehead. A new idea crossed his mind, giving a brightness to his eye; he tore a page from his pocketbook, wrote some words in haste, and gave it to a slave, ordering him to carry it, on his part, to doña Laura Antonia de Cabral.

The day was splendidly beautiful; the sun had risen, radiant on the horizon in waves of purple and gold; the morning breeze gently refreshed the atmosphere, and the birds, timidly perched under the foliage, sang with full vigour their joyous songs.

All was joy and happiness in that scene, so calm and majestic, which the hand of man had not yet deformed.

The black slaves, the half-caste hunters, and the Indian soldiers who composed the caravan, felt, spite of themselves, the magnetic influence of that delicious morning, and appeared to have forgotten their past perils and fatigues to care for nothing but the future, which appeared to them so sweet, and so full of seductive promise; it was in laughing, in singing, and in talking gaily among themselves, that they accomplished the rude task of raising the camp.

The marquis alone remained dull and pensive. It was because, scorched by the shameful thirst for gold, his heart concealed a terrible tempest, and remained insensible to the magnificent harmonies of nature which acted so powerfully on the rude but honest organisations of the Indians and Negroes.

However, the horses were saddled, the mules were again loaded, the rolled up tents were placed on a waggon drawn by several oxen. Doña Laura had stepped into her palanquin, which was immediately closed upon her. They only waited the order of the marquis to put themselves en route.

Don Roque was walking apart, absorbed in his thoughts; he appeared to have forgotten that all was ready for the departure, and that the moment had come to effect the descent of the mountain – to enter the desert.

At last the captain ventured to touch him lightly on the arm.

"What do you want with me, Don Diogo?" asked Don Roque, drily.

"My lord," answered he, "we only await your pleasure to commence the journey."

"If it is so, let us set out immediately," answered he, making a movement towards his horse.

"Pardon, my lord," pursued the Indian; "before you give orders for the march, I have some important information to submit to you."

"To me!" cried the marquis, looking at him with surprise.

"To you, my lord," coldly answered the Indian.

"Is it a new treason by which I am threatened?" pursued he, with a bitter smile; "And do you wish to abandon me – you also, Don Diogo?"

"You are doubly unjust to me, my lord," sharply answered the Indian; "I have no intention of abandoning you."

"If I am wrong, which is possible, excuse me, Don Diogo; and let us come to business, I beg you. Time flies."

"Some minutes more or less do not matter, my lord; we shall arrive quickly enough where we are going."

"What do you wish to say – explain yourself."

"What I have already had the honour to say to you this morning, my lord, that not one of us will return from this expedition."

The marquis made a gesture of impatience —

"Is it then for you to repeat to me your sinister predictions that you stop me thus?" he cried.

"By no means, your Excellency; I do not admit my right either to control your acts or to oppose your plans. I have warned you, that is all. I am now at your orders."

"You have not, I hope, whispered a word to anyone of these absurd crotchets which possess your brain?"

"What use would it be, my lord, to speak without your authority of what you term crotchets, and what I term certainties? The soldiers placed under my orders know as well as I do what awaits them in the desert. As to your slaves, what use would it be to frighten them beforehand? Is it not better to leave them in entire ignorance? For, I repeat, to escape will be impossible for us."

The marquis knitted his eyebrows, and crossed his arms with anger.

"Let us see," resumed he, with a subdued voice, but nevertheless, with trembled emotion, "let us make amend for it, Diogo."

"I ask nothing better, your Excellency."

"Speak, but be brief; I repeat, time flies, an hour ago we ought to have been on our journey."

The captain scratched his forehead with an embarrassed air, but appearing all of a sudden to arrive at a decision.

"This is the state of the case, my lord," said he; "up to the present time we have traversed civilised countries, or nearly so, where we have only had to contend against ordinary dangers; that is to say, the bites of wild beasts or those of reptiles."

"Well?"

"Why, you understand, my lord, we are about, in a few minutes, to enter the territory of the redskins."

"To what are you driving, with these interminable preambles?" asked the marquis.

"To this, your Excellency; you are a great lord, expert in everything connected with civilised life, but pardon me for saying so, in complete ignorance of life in the desert. I believe then, with all due respect to you, my lord, that it would be well for you to permit me to take upon myself alone, from today, the responsibility of the journey of the caravan. There, your Excellency, that is what I wished to say to you."

The marquis remained some moments silent; his eyes fixed on the calm and loyal countenance of the captain.

"What you ask of me is very serious, Don Diogo," at last answered the marquis. "Treason surrounds me on every side; the men on whom I thought I had the most right to count have been the first to abandon me; you yourself consider this journey in advance to be a folly, and appear to be afflicted by sad presentiments."

"Your Excellency, I am not surprised at the suspicions against me which arise in your mind; on the contrary, I think them very natural. But the soldados da conquista are all tried men, chosen with the greatest care, and since the formation of this corps there has never been found a traitor in it. I do not say this for myself, but the honourable manner in which I have spoken to you – the things I have told you – ought to inspire, if not entire confidence in me, at least the commencement of it."

"Yes, I know; all your proceedings have been in good faith; you see that I render you justice."

"Not sufficiently, your Excellency; you judge me according to the knowledge acquired in civilised life, and not by that of the desert. Permit me, then, to make a simple observation."

"Speak."

"We are fifty leagues from the nearest town, a few leagues only from the Indian enemies, who only await an opportunity to attack us."

"That is true," murmured the marquis pensively,

"Good! You understand me, your Excellency; now, suppose I am a traitor?"

"I have not said so."

"Well! I admit nothing would be easier for me than to abandon you to yourself where we now are – to leave with my soldiers, and believe me, your Excellency, you would be as irremediably lost as if I gave you over tomorrow, or any other day, to the Indians."

The marquis turned pale, and his head fell on his breast with a troubled air. The logic of the captain's reason struck him to the heart, showing him his own powerlessness, and the great devotion of the man whom he accused, and who was ready so nobly to sacrifice his life to serve him.

"Pardon me my unjust suspicions, Don Diogo," he said; "my doubts are dissipated forever. I have faith in you; act in your own way, without even consulting me, if you think necessary. I swear to you, on my word of honour as a gentleman, that I will not embarrass you in anything; and that, under all circumstances, I will be the first to set the example of obedience."

"I regret that I only have a life to sacrifice for you, my lord," answered the captain.

"Do not speak any more of that, my friend, but act for the best."

"I will try to do so, my lord. First, will you inform me in what direction you intend to proceed?"

"We must first reach the borders of a little lake which lies in the neighbourhood of the Rio Bermejo."

"Oh, oh," answered the Indian, "the journey is long; we have to traverse, before arriving there, all the country of the Guaycurus and the Payagoas; then we shall pass the Rio Pilcomayo, to enter the Islano de Manso. It is a rough way, your Excellency."

"I have always thought that Malco Diaz made us take a wrong direction."

"You are wrong, my lord. The manner in which he has abandoned you shows that he had the greatest interest in bringing you as quickly as possible to the Indian territory."

"That is true."

"Now, my lord, if you will please to mount horse, we will set out as soon as you like."

"Immediately," answered the marquis.

The young man went towards the palanquin, in which doña Laura was shut up, whilst the captain rejoined his soldiers, and prepared all for the departure.

The marquis reined his horse to the right side of the palanquin, and slightly leaning from his saddle —

"Doña Laura," said he, "do you hear me?"

"I hear you," answered the young girl, although she remained invisible.

"Will you listen to me for a few minutes?" pursued the marquis.

"It is impossible for me to do otherwise," murmured she.

"You have received my letter this morning? Have you read it?"

"I have read it."

"I thank you, Señorita."

"I do not accept thanks which I do not merit."

"For what reason?"

"Because this letter has not in the least influenced my immovable determination."

The marquis made a gesture of scorn.

"You do not accept my conditions?"

"No."

"Consider, that a terrible danger threatens you."

"It will be welcome, whatever it may be, if it delivers me from the slavery in which you hold me."

"That is your last word, Señorita?"

"The last."

"But such obstinacy is folly."

"Perhaps. In any case it avenges me of you."

"It is to death that you are proceeding."

"I hope so; but you only asked of me a few minutes for conversation. They have nearly passed. Spare me then, Señor, speaking anymore to me, for I shall not answer you. Moreover, I perceive that your bandits are resuming their journey."

Indeed, the caravan began to descend the slope of the mountain, the path narrowed more and more, and a long conversation became absolutely impossible.

"Oh; curses on you," cried the marquis with rage.

The young girl only answered by a burst of mocking laughter. Don Roque made a last gesture of menace, and buried his spurs in the flanks of his horse.

The captain had brought to bear on his arrangements for the march the qualities both of a soldier and an experienced trapper.

The soldados da conquista, accustomed for a long period to make war on the Indians, had been placed in advance by him, and on the flanks of the caravan, under orders to clear the route, and to carefully watch the thickets both to the right and left.

The half-caste hunters, formed in a single compact troop, advanced, fusil on thigh and finger on trigger, with eye and ear on the watch.

The Negro slaves formed the rearguard.

The caravan, thus disposed, could not but present a considerably extended and imposing line. It was composed of fifty-five men in all, of whom about forty-five were resolute fellows, for a long time accustomed to track the desert, and who could be reasonably counted on in case of need. As to the other ten, they were Negro or mulatto slaves who had never seen fire.

The caravan slowly descended the mountain, its track cleared right and left by the soldiers sent out by the captain as scouts.

By degrees, as the travellers approached the desert, the landscape changed, and assumed a more imposing and grand aspect.

Some moments more, and the descent would be finished.

Don Roque approached Don Diogo, and touching him lightly on the shoulder —

"Well," said he, smiling, "we shall soon be on the plain, and we have not seen a living soul. Believe me, captain, the threats made by the Indians are but rodomontade; they have tried to frighten us, that is all."

"Do you speak seriously, my lord?" said the Indian. "Do you really believe what you say?"

"Certainly, dear Don Diogo; and everything, it appears to me, gives me reason to do so."

"Then you are taking a wrong view of it, your Excellency, for I certify to you that the Guaycurus have advanced nothing that they do not intend to carry out."

"Do you fear an attack?" said the marquis.

"An attack – not, perhaps, immediately, but at least a summons."

"A summons; on the part of whom?"

"Why, on the part of the Guaycurus, probably."

"Come, you are jesting. On what do you base such supposition?"

"I do not suppose, your Excellency, I see."

"What, you see – "

"Yes, and it is easy for you to do the same, for before a quarter of an hour the man whom I warn you of will be before you."

"Oh, oh! That is good."

"Look, your Excellency," said Diogo, stretching his arm in a certain direction; "do you see that grass which quivers and bends with a regular movement?"

"Yes, I see it; well?"

"You remark, do you not, that this movement is only partial, and continually advances towards us?"

"Just so; but what does that prove?"

"That proves, your Excellency, that an Indian is coming towards us at a gallop."

"Come, you are jesting, captain."

"Not the least in the world, my lord; you will soon have a proof of it."

"I shall only believe it when I see it."

"If it is so," pursued the captain, hiding a smile, "believe, then, for here he is."

At that moment a Guaycurus Indian, armed as a warrior, and mounted on a magnificent horse, suddenly emerged from the high grass, and boldly reined up across the path, within a pistol shot of the Brazilians, waving in his hand a tapir skin.

"Fire on that vagabond," cried the marquis, shouldering his carbine.

"Do not do that," said the captain.

"What! Is he not an enemy?" pursued the marquis.

"That may be, your Excellency; but at this moment he is an envoy."

"As an envoy – that savage? You are jesting with me without doubt," cried the marquis.

"By no means, my lord; let us hear what this man has to say to us."

"What good will it be?" said he, with scorn.

"If it were only to know the projects of those who have sent him."

The marquis hesitated an instant, then placing his carbine again in his shoulder belt —

"Well, that is possible," murmured he; "better allow him to explain himself. Who knows? Perhaps they desire to treat with us."

"It is not probable," answered the captain laughing; "but, in any case, if you will permit me, my lord, I will go and question him."

"Do so, do so, Don Diogo; I am curious to know this message."

The captain bowed; then, after having thrown down his tromblon, his sabre, and his knife, he proceeded at a trot towards the Indian.

"You are mad," cried Don Roque, darting towards him; "what, do you abandon your arms? Do you wish, then, to be assassinated?"

Don Diogo smiled, shrugging his shoulders with disdain, and, holding back the marquis's horse by the bridle to prevent him advancing any further —

"Do you not see that that man is without arms?" said he.

The marquis made a gesture of surprise, and stopped; he had not remarked that circumstance.

CHAPTER X

THE GUAYCURUS

The vast territory of Brazil is even at the present time inhabited by numerous Indian tribes, spread over the sombre forests and the vast deserts which cover that country.

Of these nations, two especially hold an important place in the history of the aboriginal races of Brazil; these are the Payagoas and the Guaycurus.

The latter most particularly occupy our attention.

After having exchanged with the marquis the few words which we have reported, Don Diogo advanced alone, and without arms, towards the Indian, who was boldly stationed across the path, and who regarded him as he approached without making the slightest movement.

These two men, although of a common origin, and both descended from the aboriginal race, and from the first owners of the soil which they trod, offered, nevertheless, two quite distinct types, and formed the most complete contrast.

The Guaycurus, painted as a warrior, proudly draped in his poncho, boldly sitting on his horse – as untamed as himself – his flashing eye firmly fixed on the man who advanced towards him, whilst a smile of proud disdain played upon his lips, would have well represented in the eyes of an observer the type of that powerful race, confident in its right and in its power, which, since the first day of its discovery, has sworn an implacable hatred to the whites; has retreated step by step before them, without ever having turned their back; and which has resolved to perish rather than submit to an odious yoke and a dishonourable servitude.

The captain, on the contrary – less vigorously built, embarrassed in his exact and artificial costume, bearing on his features the indelible mark of the servitude to which he had submitted, constrained in his posture, replacing haughtiness by effrontery, and only fixing by stealth a saturnine look on his adversary – represented the bastard type of that race to which he had ceased to belong, and the costumes of which he had repudiated, to adopt without understanding them, those of his conquerors, instinctively feeling his inferiority, and submitting, perhaps unknown to himself, to the magnetic influence of that nature which was so strong because it was free.

"Who are you, dog?" said the Guaycurus, harshly, casting on him a look of contempt; "You who bear the garments of a slave?"

"I am as you are, a son of this land," answered the captain, in a morose tone, "only more happy than you; my eyes are open to the true faith."

"Do not employ your lying tongue in sounding your own praises. It ill becomes you to me," answered the warrior, "to boast of the sweetness of slavery."

"Are you then come, crossing my route, to insult me?" said the captain, with an ill-suppressed accent of rage. "My arm is long, and my patience short."

The warrior made a gesture of disdain.

"Who would dare to flatter himself to frighten Tarou Niom?" said he.

"I know you; I know that you are famed in your nation for your courage in combat and your wisdom in council. Cease, then, from vain romancing and bombast."

"A fool sometimes gives good counsel," was the warrior's repartee; "what you say is just. Let us come, then, to the real subject of this interview. I wait while you explain."

"Why have you not reported to the palefaces the message with which I charged you for them?"