Gustave Aimard
The Insurgent Chief
BOOK II. – THE MONTONERO
CHAPTER I
EL RINCÓN DEL BOSQUECILLO
It was about the middle of a southern summer; the heat during the whole day had been suffocating; the dust had covered the leaves of the trees with a thick layer of a greyish tint, which gave to the landscape – picturesque and varied as it was in the Llano de Manso, where our narrative recommences – a sad and desolate appearance, which, happily, was soon to disappear, thanks to the abundant shower of the night, which, in washing the trees, would bring back to them their primitive colour.
The llano presented, as far as the eye could reach, in all directions, only an uninterrupted chain of low hills, covered with a yellowish grass, dried up by the burning rays of the sun, and under which myriads of red grasshoppers uttered in emulation of each other their sharp twitterings.
At some distance on the right was a little stream, half dried up, which meandered like a silver ribbon, bordered with a narrow fringe of mastic trees, of guanas, and of thistles. Only on an elevated shore of this stream, called the Rio Bermejo, and which is an affluent of the Parana, there was a thick wood, a kind of oasis, planted by the all-powerful hand of God in this desert, and the fresh and green foliage of which strongly contrasted with the yellow tint which formed the chief feature of the landscape.
Black swans allowed themselves carelessly to drift on the stream; hideous iguanas wallowed in the mire; flights of partridges and turtledoves rapidly flew to the shelter of the trees; here and there vicuñas and viscachas were bounding and playing in the air; and high in the air large bald vultures were wheeling their flight in broad circles.
From the profound calm which reigned in this desert, and from its wild appearance, it would seem to have remained as it had come from the hands of the Creator, and never to have been trodden by a human foot.
But it was not so; the Llano de Manso – the furthermost plains of which reached the banks of the Grand Chaco, the almost impregnable refuge of the Indian bravos, or of those whom the cruelty of the Spaniards had, after the dispersion of the missions founded by the Jesuits, thrown back into barbarism – is in some respects a neutral territory, where all the tribes, by a tacit understanding, had their rendezvous for hunting. It is incessantly traversed in all directions by warriors belonging to tribes the most hostile to each other, but who, when they meet on this privileged territory, forget for the time their rivalry or their hereditary hatred, to remember only the hospitality of the llano – that is to say, the freedom that each one ought to have to hunt or travel as he pleased.
The whites have but rarely, and at long intervals, penetrated into this country, and always with some apprehension; so much the more, as the Indians, continually beaten back by civilisation – feeling the importance of preserving this territory for themselves – defended its approaches with unspeakable fury, torturing and massacring without pity the whites whose curiosity or ill fortune brought into this region.
However, notwithstanding these apparently insurmountable difficulties, bold explorers have not been afraid to visit the llano, and to traverse it at their risk and peril, with the design of enriching the domain of science by interesting discoveries.
It is to them that the wood of which we have spoken, and which appears an oasis in this sea of sand, owes its charming name of Rincón del Bosquecillo, out of gratitude, no doubt, for the freshness they have found there, and the shelter that has been offered them after their long and fatiguing journey in the desert.
The sun was rapidly setting on the horizon, considerably lengthening the shadow of the rocks, bushes, and a few trees here and there scattered in the llano. The panthers already commenced to utter their hoarse and mournful growlings as they sought their drinking places; the jaguars bounded out of their dens with dull cries of anger, lashing with their powerful tails their panting sides; troops of wild oxen and horses fled frightened before these dreadful kings of the night, whom the first hours of evening rendered masters of the desert.
At the moment when the sun, having reached the level of the horizon, was drowned, so to say, in waves of purple and gold, a troop of horsemen appeared on the right bank of the Rio Bermejo, proceeding apparently towards the bank of which we have spoken, on the summit of which was the thick wood called the Rincón del Bosquecillo.
These horsemen were Indian Guaycurus, recognisable by their elegant costumes, by the band which circled their heads, and especially by the matchless grace with which they managed their horses – noble sons of the desert – as fiery and as untameable as their masters.
They formed a troop of about fifty men, all armed as warriors, and not having any tuft of ostrich feathers or streamers at the point of their lances – which showed that they were on some important expedition, and not united for the chase.
A little in advance of the troop were two men, chiefs, as was shown by the vulture's feather placed in their red bands, and whose external appearance contrasted strongly with that of their companions.
They wore variegated ponchos, trousers of brown holland, and boots made of leather from horse's legs. Their arms —laco bolas, lance and knives – were the same as those of their companions; but here the resemblance stopped.
The first was a young man of twenty-two at the most. His figure was tall, elegant, supple, and well formed; his manners noble, his least gesture graceful. No painting, no tattooing, disfigured his expressive features, of almost feminine beauty, but to which – an extraordinary thing in an Indian – a black beard, short and frizzled, gave a masculine and decided expression. This beard, added to the dull white of the skin of the young man, would have made him pass easily for a white man, if he had worn a European costume. However, let us hasten to state that among the Indians men are often met with whose skin is completely white, and who appear to belong to the Caucasian race. This singularity, therefore, did not attract any attention among their companions, who attached no other importance to it than to cause them to manifest for them a greater respect, believing them to be descended from the privileged race of men who first united them into tribes, and taught them the first elements of civilisation.
The young man, whose portrait we have briefly sketched, was the principal chief of the warriors by whom he was at this moment followed. He was named Gueyma, and notwithstanding his youth, he enjoyed a great reputation in his tribe for wisdom and bravery.
His companion, as far as it was possible – in spite of his upright figure, his hair black as the raven's wing, and his countenance free from wrinkles – to fix his age with any certainty, was about seventy. However, as we have said, no sign of decrepitude was observable in him; his eye shone with all the fire of youth, his limbs were supple and vigorous; his teeth, of which not one was missing, were brilliantly white, rendered more striking by the dark hue of his complexion, although, like the other chief, he had neither tattoo nor painting; but, in default of physical signs of old age, the expression of severity on his fine and intelligent countenance, his emphatic gestures, and the measured slowness with which he let fall the least word, would have proved to every man accustomed to the Indians that this chief was very aged, and that he enjoyed among his people a great renown for wisdom and prudence, rather holding his place at the council fire of the tribe, than at the head of a war expedition.
In the centre of the troop were two men who, by their complexion and their clothing, it was easy to recognise as Europeans.
These men, though they were without arms, appeared to be treated, if not as completely free, at least with a certain consideration, which proved that they were not looked upon as prisoners.
They were two young men of twenty-five or twenty-eight, dressed in the costume of Brazilian officers, with fine bold features, and careless and hearty expression. They galloped in the midst of the Indian warriors without appearing to concern themselves in any way as to the place whither they were being conducted, and talked gaily, changing from time to time a few words in a good-humoured tone, with the warriors nearest to them.
The sun had set below the horizon, and perfect darkness had almost immediately replaced the light of day – as happens in all intertropical countries, which have no twilight – at the moment when the Indians were ascending at a gallop the scarcely-traced path which led to the summit of the bank, and gave access to the wood.
Arrived in the middle of a glade – from which sprang a stream of water, clear and limpid, which, after a tortuous course through the rocks, fell in the form of a splendid cascade into the Rio Bermejo, from a height Of forty or fifty feet – the young Gueyma chief stopped his horse, leaped from his saddle, and ordered his warriors to instal themselves in a camp for the night; his intention being not to go farther that day.
The latter obeyed; they immediately alighted, and quickly occupied themselves with securing the horses, giving them provender, lighting the watch fires, and in preparing the repast for the evening.
Some five or six warriors had alone preserved their arms, and were stationed on the outskirts of the glade, to watch over the safety of their companions.
The two Brazilian officers, no doubt fatigued with the long journey during the great heat of the day, had, with a sigh of relief, heard the order of the chief, and had obeyed it with a speed which testified to the desire which they felt to take repose.
Twenty minutes later the fires were lighted, a covering constructed to shelter the whites against the abundant dew of the morning, and the warriors, clustered in little groups of four or five, ate with a good appetite the simple provisions placed before them – consisting for the most part of yams, baked under ashes, of the meal of manioc, and of meat dried in the sun, and roasted over the fire – the whole accompanied with limpid water from the stream – a wholesome and fortifying beverage, but in no way liable to get into the heads of the guests.
The chiefs had, through a warrior, invited the Brazilian officers to take part in the meal – a courteous invitation that the latter had accepted with so much the more pleasure as, with the exception of gourds full of sugar cane brandy, which they carried at their saddles, they were completely without provisions, and at over time thought they were condemned to a forced fast – a prospect all the more disagreeable for them, as they were literally dying with hunger, not having had the opportunity, since the previous evening, of taking any other refreshment than a little brandy, diluted with water, a regimen quite insufficient for them, but to which they had resolutely submitted, rather than exhibit their distress to the Indians, amongst whom they had accidentally been thrown. Happily for them, the Guaycurus chiefs had noticed this forced abstinence, and had kindly put an end to it by inviting the young men to sup with them – a proceeding which had the double advantage of saving the pride of the officers, and of breaking the ice between them and the Indians.
However, as often happens between persons who do not know each other, or who at least know one another but little, the first few minutes were embarrassing to these four companions, so different in manners and disposition.
The officers, after a ceremonious bow, which the chiefs acknowledged in a very awkward fashion, seated themselves on the grass, and attacked the provisions set before them, at first with a certain forbearance which politeness demanded; but they soon gave way to the imperious demands of their appetites.
"Epoï!" said the old chief, with a smile of good humour, "I am happy, gentlemen, to see you so much enjoy so poor a meal."
"Upon my word," answered one of the officers, laughing, "poor or not, chief, it comes at a time when we cannot disdain it."
"Hum!" said the second, "it is just twenty-four hours since we have eaten; and that is rather a long time."
"Why did you not say that before?" resumed the chief; "We would immediately have given orders for you to have the necessary provisions."
"A thousand thanks for your kindness, chief; but it neither suited our dignity nor our disposition to make such a request to you."
"The whites have strange scruples," murmured Gueyma, speaking rather to himself than to the officers.
However, they heard the remark, to which one of them replied —
"It is not a question of delicacy, chief, but an innate feeling of propriety amongst men who not only respect themselves, but also in themselves respect those whom they are charged to represent."
"You will excuse us, Señor," pursued Gueyma, "we Indians, almost savages, as you call us, know nothing of those subtle distinctions that you are pleased to establish; the life of the desert does not teach such things."
"And we are, perhaps, only the more happy that it is so," added the old chief.
"Possibly," answered the officer; "I will not discuss so futile a point with you. Let us quit this subject, and allow me to offer you a mouthful of brandy."
And after having uncorked his gourd, he presented it to the chief.
The latter, pushing away the gourd, looked in astonishment at the officer.
"You refuse me?" asked the latter, "For what motive, chief? Have I not accepted what you have offered me?"
The Indian several times shook his head.
"My son is not accustomed to be in the company of the Guaycurus," said he.
"Why this question, chief?"
"Because," answered he, "if it were otherwise, the young pale chief would know that the Guaycurus warriors never drink that liquid which the whites name ardent spirits, and which makes them stupid; the water from the springs which the Great Spirit, Macunhan, has profusely scattered in the desert is sufficient to slake their thirst."
"Excuse my ignorance, chief; I had no intention of offending you."
"Where there is no intention, as the paleface says," answered the old chief, smiling, "an injury cannot exist."
"Well spoken, my master," gaily pursued the young man. "I should have been annoyed if an inconsiderate action on my part had disturbed the good understanding which ought to exist between us; so much the more, as I wish to ask you a few questions, if it is not inconvenient."
The meal was concluded. The two chiefs had rolled up some tobacco in palm leaves, and were smoking; the officers had lighted their cigars.
"What are the questions that the paleface wishes to ask me?" pursued the Indian.
"First, let me tell you, that since chance has brought me among you, I am a prey to continual astonishment."
"Epoï!" said the chief, smiling; "Indeed!"
"Upon my word, yes. I had never seen an Indian. At Rio de Janeiro, when they spoke to me of the redskins, they were represented as men quite savage, fierce, faithless – entirely sunk in the most horrible barbarism. I thus acquired an impression which, according to what I now see, was most erroneous."
"Ah, ah! And what does the paleface now see?"
"Why, I see men brave, intelligent – enjoying a civilization different to ours, it is true, but which is civilization, nevertheless – chiefs like you and your companion for example, speaking the Portuguese language as well as myself, and who, in all circumstances, act with a prudence and wisdom, and a circumspection which I have often regretted I have not met with in my own countrymen. That is what I have seen among you up to the present time, chief, without taking account of the white complexion of your companion, which – you will admit – added to his features, and the expression of his countenance, gives him rather the appearance of a European than of an Indian warrior."
The two chiefs smiled as they exchanged a stealthy look, and the elder resumed, with an expression of pride —
"The Guaycurus are descendants of the great Tupinambas, the ancient possessors of Brazil, before the whites had robbed them of their territory. They are called by the palefaces themselves Cavalheiros. The Guaycurus are masters of the desert; who would dare to resist them? When many winters shall have blanched the hair of my son, and he shall have seen other Indian nations, he will recognise the immense difference that exists between the noble Guaycurus and the miserable savages scattered here and there in the llanos."
The young officer bowed affirmatively.
"So," said he, "the Guaycurus are the most civilised among the Indians?"
"The only civilised," answered the chief, with pride; "the Great Spirit loves and protects them."
"I admit it, chief; but that does not explain to me how it is that you speak our language with perfection – a perfection which you warriors are far from attaining, for they can scarcely understand a word I say to them."
"The Cougar has lived many years," answered he; "the snows of many a great winters have fallen on his head since he saw the light. The Cougar was a warrior before the paleface was born. At that time the chief visited the great villages of the whites; for several moons he even lived amongst them as if he had formed part of their families. He thus loves them, although he has left them forever to rejoin his tribe. The whites taught the Cougar their language. Has my son any other questions to ask him?"
"No, chief; I thank you sincerely for the frank and friendly way in which you have been pleased to answer me. I am the more delighted at the sympathy which you say you have for my countrymen, as in the circumstances in which we are placed, this sympathy cannot but be very conducive to the satisfactory termination of the business we have in hand."
"I hope it may be so."
"And I also, with all my heart. Are we still far distant from the place where the interview is to take place? I confess that I am anxious for the conclusion of the treaty between us."
"Then let my son rejoice, for we have reached the spot assigned by the Guaycurus captains, to the chiefs of the palefaces. The interview of which he speaks will take place probably tomorrow, two or three hours at most after sunrise."
"What! We have already reached the place called by the Spaniards the Rincón del Bosquecillo?"
"It is here."
"Thank God, for the general will not be long before he comes here, as we have already come; and now, chief, accept again my thanks. I am going, with your permission, to take a few hours' repose, which I really want, after the fatigues of the journey which has just finished."
"Let my sons sleep; sleep is good for young men," answered the chief, with a benevolent smile.
The officers immediately withdrew under the awning prepared for them, and were not long before they slept.
The chiefs remained, facing each other.
The Guaycurus warriors, stretched before the fires, slept, enveloped in their ponchos.
But the sentinels watched, and were motionless as bronze statues, their eyes open to the surrounding country, and their ears ready for the least sound.
A complete calm reigned in the desert; the night was warm, clear, and starlight.
The Cougar looked for a moment pensively at his companion, and then, after looking inquiringly around him —
"Of what is Gueyma thinking at this moment?" said he, with a gentle voice, and in a tone of tender nation; "Is he communing with his heart? Do his thoughts recall the pleasant memory of Dove's Eye, the Virgin with the azure eyes or is his spirit busy with the meeting scheduled for tomorrow?"
The young man trembled, raised his head and cast an uncertain look, in which a spark glowed, on the old chief, who looked at him sadly.
"No," he replied with a voice, silent and broken by inner emotion: "my father has not clearly read in the heart of his son; the memory of Dove's eye is ever present in Gueyma's soul: she need not be called up to shine even more. The result of the conference that will take place tomorrow is not of the young chief's concern. His mind is elsewhere; he wanders in the midst of the clouds guided by the wind to seek his father."
The face of the old chief suddenly grew dark with these words; he frowned his brow and answered after a while with an uncertain, emotional voice:
"Is that thought still tormenting you, my son?"
"Still!" replied the young man with some animation; "Until the Cougar has fulfilled his promise."
"Which promise is that, that my son reminds me of?"
"This, to reveal to me my father's name; because I never knew him as a child; and because the warriors of my nation sadly turn their heads when I ask them why he left from our midst so long ago."
"Yes, surely," replied the Cougar, "I did promise that to my son, but he gave me another one, doesn't he remember?"
"Yes, my father; forgive me, I do remember, but my father is good, and will be tolerant toward a young man and pardon an impatience that only comes forth from his childish love."
"My son is not only one of the most feared warriors of his nation, but also one of the most renown chiefs; he must be the example of patience for all. It will seal his mouth better, if I don't disclose the secret; to learn that when he is so impatient the men will follow him therein, to give him this and this only thought; it is: to see him once happy."
After he had spoken these words in a tone both stern and moved, the old chief wrapped his poncho around him, stretched himself on the ground and closed his eyes.
Gueyma gave him a glance with a mixture of indescribable anger, reverence and despondency; then he sighed deeply, and let his head sink to his chest, overwhelmed by sleep. He lay down beside his fellow tribesmen. Soon there were no more people awake in the whole of the Indian encampment, except for the sentinels appointed to watch over the common safety.
