The Guide of the Desert

CHAPTER XI

A STRATEGIC ASSAULT

When night was come, and obscurity had completely enveloped the landscape; Don Diogo entered the tent where the marquis was walking up and down, his head drooping, and his arms crossed on his chest.

"Ah, 'tis you, Captain?" said the young man, stopping. "What news?"

"Nothing, your Excellency," answered the Indian. "All is calm; the night, I think, will be tranquil."

"However, you have, if I am not deceived, something to say to me."

"Just so, your Excellency; I come to announce that I am about to quit the camp."

"You quit the camp!"

"Is it not necessary that I go out for information?"

"True; how long do you reckon to be on this excursion?"

"Who can say, your Excellency? Perhaps one day, perhaps two; perhaps only a few hours. All will depend on circumstances. It is possible that I shall never return."

The marquis remained an instant – his eyes fixed with a strange expression on the captain.

"Don Diogo," said he, at last, placing his hand in a friendly way on his shoulder, "before leaving me, permit me to ask you a question."

"Do so, my lord."

"What is the reason which induces you to manifest so great a devotion – so complete a self-denial?"

"What good would it do to tell you, my lord; you would not understand me."

"Several times have I asked myself this question without being able to reply. We have only known each other two months; before the treason of Malco, I had scarcely exchanged a few ordinary words with you."

"Mon Dieu, my lord," carelessly answered the Indian; "I in nowise interest myself in you, believe me."

"But, then," cried the marquis, with the utmost surprise, "why risk your life for me?"

"I have told you, my lord, that you would not understand me."

"Never mind, my friend; answer my question, I beg you."

"You wish it, your Excellency?"

"I demand it, as far as I am permitted to have my way on such a matter."

"Be it so; listen to me then, my lord; only I doubt, I repeat, whether you will understand me."

"Speak, speak."

"Do not be angry, then, my lord, I beg you, if what you are about to hear should appear a little hard. To a question frankly put I must make a candid answer. You personally do not interest me at all. You yourself have said that I scarcely know you. Only it happens that you are in some respects under my keeping; that when I was placed under your orders, I swore to defend you in all circumstances during the time we should travel together. When that miserable Malco betrayed you, I understood the responsibility that the treason caused to devolve upon me."

"But," interrupted the marquis, "that is no reason why you should sacrifice your life."

"It is not to you, my lord, it is to myself that I make this sacrifice – to my honour, which would be wounded if I did not, if necessary, fall by your side, in trying, up to the last moment, to protect you, and to make a shield for you by my body. But," added he, with a sad smile, "of what use is it to dwell on this subject my lord? Profit by my devotion, without disquieting yourself about other matters. Moreover, it is not so great a thing as you think."

"How is that?"

"Eh! Mon Dieu, my lord, for a very simple reason; we soldados da conquista, who incessantly make war against the Indian bravos, continually stake our lives, and always finish by being killed in some ambuscade. You see that the sacrifice I make for you is very little, and does not merit in any way that I should glory in it."

Don Roque felt emotion in spite of himself, at the artless loyalty of this half-civilised man.

"You are worth more than I am," he said, holding out his hand.

"Why, no, my lord; I am less civilised, that is all; and," he continued, "now that I have answered your question, we will, if you please, return to our business."

"I do not ask anything better, Captain; you told me, I think, that you intended to quit the camp?"

"We have not an instant to lose to try and gain information; we have to do, do not forget, with Indian bravos – the cleverest and bravest of the desert. They are tough adversaries."

"I begin to believe it."

"While I am absent, remain in the camp, keep a good watch, and make yourself personally certain that the sentinels do not sleep at their post."

"Depend upon me for that."

"I forgot one very important thing, my lord; if you are attacked by the Indians during my absence, and hard put to it, attach a red faja to the highest branch of the watch tree; this faja I shall see in whatever place I may be."

"That shall be done; have you any other recommendations?"

"None, your Excellency; it only remains for me now to take leave. Remember not to go out."

"I shall not stir a step; that's agreed on. You will find me again, I hope, in as good a situation as that in which you leave me."

"I hope so, my lord. Au revoir!"

Diogo bowed a second time, and left the tent.

The captain set out from the camp on foot.

The soldados da conquista rarely use horses; they only employ them when they have a long journey on the plain, for the Brazilian forests are so thick and encumbered with ivy and creeping plants, that it is literally impossible to traverse them, otherwise than hatchet in hand, which renders a horse not only useless, but in some respects an obstruction, to his master, by the embarrassment which he continually causes.

Thus the soldados da conquista are generally excellent pioneers. These men have legs of iron, nothing stops or retards them; they march with a speed and certainty which would shame our chasseurs à pied, who, nevertheless, justly enjoy a reputation as hardy fellows on the march.

Captain Diogo enjoyed among his companions – good judges in such a matter – a reputation for uncommon sagacity. He had on many occasions given proofs of admirable skill and address, but he had never found himself in such difficult circumstances before.

The Indian bravos, of whom he was the implacable foe, and to whom he had caused irreparable losses, held him in deadly hatred, mingled with superstitious terror. Diogo had so often, and with such good fortune, escaped the snares spread under his feet – so often escaped a nearly certain death – that the Indians had come to believe that this man was protected by some unknown charm, and that he possessed supernatural power.

The captain knew well the opinion that the Indians had of him; he knew that if ever he fell into their hands, not only had he no quarter to hope for, but, moreover, that he had to expect the most frightful tortures. This certainly, however, had no influence on his mind; his boldness was not dismayed, and, far from taking precautions during the course of his various expeditions, it was with unspeakable pleasure that he braved his adversaries to the face.

The expedition that he was now making was the boldest and most difficult of all he had attempted.

His intention was nothing less than to enter a village of the Guaycurus, to be present at their meetings, and thus succeed in discovering their secrets.

After having left the camp, the captain rapidly descended the hill, proceeding, notwithstanding the thick darkness which surrounded him, with as much certainty as by daylight, and walking with such lightness, that the noise of his steps would, at some yards' distance, have been imperceptible to the most practised ear.

When he had reached the bank of the river, he looked around him an instant; then he threw himself on the ground, and commenced to crawl gently in the direction of a neighbouring wood, a part of which was washed by the water of a river.

Arrived at two or three steps from the wood, the Indian suddenly stopped, and thus remained for several minutes, without even the noise of his breathing being heard.

Then, after having, by looking around him, sounded the darkness, as it were, he huddled himself into a small space, like a wild beast ready to take a spring. Seizing his knife in the right hand, he lightly raised his head, and imitated, with rare accuracy, the hissing of the giboya, or boa constrictor.

Scarcely had this hissing sound been heard when the branches of the thicket were agitated; they were then separated with violence, and an Indian bounded in fright towards the river. At the same moment the captain darted behind him, buried his knife in the Indian's neck, and laid him dead at his feet.

This murder had been committed in less time than it has taken us to relate it. But a few seconds had flown, and the warrior was lying lifeless before his implacable enemy.

Don Diogo coolly wiped his knife with a tuft of grass, replaced it in his girdle, and leaning over his victim, he regarded him attentively.

"Come," he murmured, "fortune has favoured me; this is one of the chiefs; his costume will suit me."

After this "aside," which explained the secret motive for the murder he had just committed in so rude a manner, the captain took upon his shoulders the body of the Guaycurus, and concealed himself with it in the thicket, from which he had so skilfully drawn his enemy.

The reader must not conclude, from what we have just related, that the captain was a ferocious and sanguinary man. Don Diogo enjoyed amongst his companions a merited reputation for kindness and humanity, but the circumstances in which he was placed at that moment were exceptional. It was evident that if the Guaycurus spy, whom he had surprised and so pitilessly killed, had perceived him first, he would have stabbed him without hesitation. For that matter, the captain had taken care to say as much himself to the marquis. The war which was commencing was one of treachery and ambush.

Time was precious; he therefore hastened to despoil his victim, in whose vestments he clothed himself. By a fortunate coincidence the two men were about the same size.

The Indians possess a particular talent, not only for personation, but even put themselves into the very skin of those whose features they wish to borrow.

With very trifling exceptions, the painting of the Guaycurus chiefs is all the same, and as their bearing differs very little, when an Indian of pure race assumes their costume, he easily attains a complete disguise.

In a few instants the dead man was despoiled; only the captain took care to place under the enemy's poncho his own pistols and knife.

After having carefully concealed his own vestments in a hole which he dug for that purpose, the captain assured himself that profound silence reigned around him; then, reassured or nearly so, he took the corpse again upon his shoulders, attached a large stone to its neck, to prevent it from floating, and, carefully separating the branches of the thicket (the roots of which were planted in the water), he pushed it gently into the river, without making the least noise.

This delicate operation terminated, the captain glided again into the thicket, with a smile of satisfaction.

Two hours thus passed away, during which the mysterious silence of the desert was not disturbed.

Diogo began to weary of the length of his task; he was seeking some means of bringing it to an end, and of joining the Guaycurus, who could not, in all probability, be far removed, when a slight trembling of the dry leaves awakened his attention.

He soon perceived the step of a man who was approaching him; this man, although walking cautiously, did not appear to think the situation dangerous enough to demand great precautions – hence this trembling which, slight as it was, had not escaped the delicate and experienced ear of the captain.

But what was this man, and what did he want?

These questions that Diogo addressed to himself, and which were impossible for him to answer, only resulted in alarming him seriously for his personal safety.

To guard against anything which might happen, the captain held himself on his guard; the critical moment had arrived to contend with artifice against those whom he wished to deceive. He prepared himself to sustain bravely the shock, whatever it might be, with which he was threatened.

Arrived at about four paces from the thicket, in the midst of which the captain had placed himself – motionless and silent as a block of granite – the unknown rover stopped.

For some seconds there was perfect silence, during which one could almost have heard the brave soldier's heart beating.

He could not, by reason of the darkness, see his enemy, but he guessed where he was, and became very uneasy, considering his silence and his stillness as a bad omen.

On a sudden the cry of an owl was heard in the air twice repeated. Perfectly modulated as this imitation was, the ear of an Indian could not be deceived.

The captain understood that this cry was a signal from his unknown visitor; but to whom was it addressed? Was it to him, or was it to some warriors ensconced in the neighbouring thickets?

Perhaps the precautions of Diogo had not been well taken; the knot which tied the cord round the neck of the warrior whom he had killed had perhaps come undone, the body had floated, and the Guaycurus, perceiving the corpse, had discovered the treason, and were coming at this moment to avenge their brother by killing his assassin.