Gustave Aimard
The Insurgent Chief

CHAPTER VI
AT CASA-FRAMA

The horsemen who advanced in the canyon, in the direction of Casa-Frama – as the headquarters of the Pincheyras was called – formed a troop of about thirty men. All were well armed and well mounted. Their costume had a military appearance, and, although riding at a hand gallop, they preserved their order, and rather resembled soldiers or partisans than peaceable travellers who had come to the Cordilleras on business.

Two horsemen, mounted on magnificent black animals, richly harnessed, preceded by a few paces the body of the troop, and were talking together with some animation. They had not yet perceived Don Pablo or the French painter, who, half hidden by the fragments of rock, observed them attentively.

"These are indeed the persons whom I expected," said he; "come let us go into the camp again."

"Why not receive them here where we are, since they must absolutely pass before us?"

"Better that they should not find us here; I ought to receive these persons with a certain decorum that their rank exacts."

"As you like; but it will be rather difficult to reenter the camp without being overtaken by them, especially at the pace they are coming."

"Do not be uneasy about that," pursued Don Pablo, smiling; "still follow me."

"Let us go," said the painter, repressing a movement of curiosity.

Indeed, it seemed impossible, from the place where they were, for the two men to regain the camp without being not only perceived, but overtaken in a few minutes by the travellers.

However, against all probability, it was nothing of the kind.

The partisan, after having scaled, followed by the painter, some blocks of rock, massed without apparent order one upon the other, found himself at the entrance of a natural cavern, of which so many exist in the mountains, and into which, after having removed the brambles and brushwood which masked the mouth of it, he boldly entered. The painter did not hesitate to follow him, curious to see this passage so skilfully concealed, and the existence of which, without any trouble, the partisan revealed to him – a passage which at some time or other might be of the greatest importance to the young man. The cavern was large, spacious, and airy; daylight penetrated it by imperceptible fissures, and produced a dim light sufficient to walk without fear and to wander in this labyrinth of galleries, which opened right and left, and were lost under the mountain at probably considerable distances, or perhaps had exits in several directions.

After a rapid walk of a few minutes, a dull and continuous sound, resembling a considerable fall of water, was heard, and became louder and louder. At last the two men emerged from the cavern and found themselves on a narrow platform, two or three yards broad at the most, masked completely by a sheet of water which fell from a great height two or three yards before the platform, and broke with a great sound upon a chaos of rocks twenty yards lower down, where it divided into two branches, forming a little farther off two distinct rivers.

"We have arrived," said the Pincheyra, turning towards his companion, to whom, till then, he had not addressed a word; "do you recognise this place?"

"Perfectly. It is just at the foot of this cascade that the camp is established; your toldo is not more than a gunshot from it."

"You are quite right. You see that I have not deceived you."

"It is true; but how shall we descend into the valley? It appears to me that the road is scarcely practicable."

"You are mistaken; it is, on the contrary, most easy, as you shall see; only give me your word as a caballero not to reveal to anyone the secret that I confide to you. You understand, do you not, the importance to me, in case of attack, of having a way by which I could escape with my companions without striking a blow, and glide, so to say, like a serpent between the fingers of my enemies, when they would think me at their mercy?"

"I understand that perfectly, and I heartily take the oath you exact, especially as the confidence with which you have conducted me here is an unquestionable proof of the esteem you have for me."

Don Pablo bowed politely.

"Come," said he, "we will descend."

He then made a turn on the right, and gained the western extremity of the platform.

"See," said he.

The painter looked.

A ladder cut in the solid rock descended at a gentle declivity to a certain depth on the flanks of the mountain, and was lost in a thick cluster of forest trees.

"Chance, a long time ago," pursued Don Pablo, "revealed to me this passage at a time when I thought I should never have to make use of it. Now, it is very useful to me to enter and leave the camp without being seen; but we shall not remain long here. Come."

Don Pablo, with a confidence which would have been decided folly with any other man than the painter, then passed first, and began to descend without even turning his head to see if his companion followed him.

Nothing would have been more easy than to make this partisan lose his equilibrium by gently pushing him as if by chance, and so making him break his neck against the rocks. The thought did not even occur to the painter, notwithstanding the hatred which rankled in his heart against this man – a hatred revived by their recent quarrel. He followed his enemy in this hazardous descent, as unconcerned as if he had made a promenade of pleasure with an intimate friend.

It did not take them more than a few minutes to reach the base of the mountain, and place their foot in the valley.

"Here we are," said Don Pablo; "we ought to separate here; go to your affairs, and I will go to mine."

They were, in fact, in the middle of the camp, at few paces only from the toldo of the chief.

"Are you not going to receive the strangers who are coming?" asked Emile.

"Yes, I am going to receive them, for they will be here in ten minutes or so; and, as I have told you, I wish to pay them a certain respect to which they have a right."

"It was arranged between us, I thought, that I should assist at this interview?"

"Certainly, and I will keep my promise, you may depend; but this interview will not take place till later – in two or three hours at least. I am only now about to fulfil towards the strangers the duties of hospitality. When they have rested, we will occupy ourselves with business. So, make your mind easy; when the time comes, I will take care to tell you that you may assist at the conference."

"I have your word, I will therefore make no further objection. God keep you, Seigneur Don Pablo."

"God keep you, Señor Don Emile," answered the partisan.

The two men bowed, and without further discussion they turned their backs, and each went his way: Don Pablo proceeding to the entrance of the camp, where, no doubt, his presence would soon be required; and the painter returning to his toldo, where he soon arrived A man, sitting on the threshold, appeared to be waiting his arrival.

This man was Tyro the Guaraní. At a few paces from him, crouched on the soil, two ragged individuals, but armed to the teeth, were playing at monte. These persons were Mataseis is and Sacatripas, the two bullies engaged by the painter on his flight from San Miguel de Tucuman. Without disturbing themselves, they saluted their master as he passed, and continued the eager game they had commenced at sunrise, and which probably would last, unless important affairs called them off, until the end of the day.

At the sight of the Frenchman, Tyro quickly rose, raised the curtain of the toldo, and, after his master had entered, followed him.

"What news?" asked Emile.

"Nothing important apparently," answered the Guaraní, "but much in reality."

"Ah!" said the young man, with a thoughtful air, "What has happened then?"

"Nothing, I repeat, my friend; however, I think you will do well to be on your guard."

"Eh! Am I not always so?"

"True, but an increase of precaution could do no harm."

"Then you have learned something?"

"I have learned nothing positive as yet; however, I have my suspicions; soon, I hope, I shall be able to inform you."

"Have you seen the ladies today?"

"Yes, my friend; this morning I had the honour to pay them a visit; they are sorrowful and resigned, as usual, and it is easy to see that their position becomes more painful to them every moment, and that their feigned resignation conceals a profound despondency."

"Alas!" murmured the young man, with sadness, "I am unhappily unable to be of service to them."

"Perhaps, my friend."

Emile quickly brightened up.

"You know something, do you not, my good Tyro?" cried he, with anxiety.

"I must say nothing yet, my friend; be patient You shall soon know all."

The young man sighed.

"I have seen Don Pablo," said he.

"Ah!" said the Guaraní, with curiosity.

"I shall assist at the interview."

"Good!" cried the Indian, joyfully rubbing his hands together; "So much the better, Don Pablo has not made any difficulties?"

"Hum! He only consented when the pistol was at his breast."

"No matter; the principal thing is that you will be present."

"You see that I have followed your counsel."

"Soon, my friend, you will yourself acknowledge the importance of it."

"God grant it! I confess that since I have been in this frightful den of Casa-Frama, I feel that I am losing all energy."

"Courage, my friend; perhaps you are nearer escaping from it than you suppose."

"You never speak except by enigmas."

"Excuse me; it is at present impossible for me to explain myself."

"Do as you like; I will not interfere in anything."

"Till the moment for action has arrived."

"But when this moment has come – ?"

Tyro did not answer, occupied in preparing for his master's breakfast. Apparently absorbed by this grave occupation, he feigned not to hear these too significant words.

"Now it is ready, my friend," said he; "eat and drink, you must require refreshment. We never know what the future reserves for us, and it is well to be prepared for anything that may happen."

The painter looked at him a moment attentively.

"Come," said he, sitting on a stool before the table, "you are plotting something?"

The Guaraní burst out a laugh maliciously.

"Ah!" said he, after a pause, "You know, my friend, that the engagement of our two companions terminated yesterday."

"What companions, and what engagements?" answered the young man, with his mouth full.

"Why, that of Mataseis and his worthy acolyte Sacatripas."

"Good, but what have I to do with that? These fellows have been paid in advance; I do not owe them anything."

"Pardon, my friend; you owe them two months."

"How is that?"

"Because I have renewed their engagement for two months this very morning at the same price; for that matter it is not dear; the fellows have a certain value."

"What a strange idea to hamper us afresh with these wretches! Would it not have been better to have got rid of them, and to send them to get hanged somewhere else?"

"As to being hanged, make your mind easy; that will happen to them sooner or later. Meanwhile, I have thought it preferable to keep them in our service. Do you remember, my friend, that when we fight against bandits we should have some of the same stamp in our interests?"

"Arrange it as you like, that's your affair; for you do everything here according to your own notions. I Keep them or don't keep them – I wash my hands of it."

"You are merry, my friend?"

"No, I am sad; I have sometimes a temptation to put an end to it by blowing out the brains of that cursed Pincheyra, and then taking the same leap myself."

"Be careful not to give way to these temptations, my friend; not that I interest myself the least in the world in these Pincheyras, for I am reserving for Don Pablo and his brothers a dish of my own preparing, which they will find too highly spiced, I am convinced; but the moment has not yet come. Let us be patient, and, for a commencement, be present at the interview today, my friend; and open your ears, for if I do not much deceive myself, you will hear strange things."

"Yes, yes, I suppose that an interview with the colonel – for he has definitively taken this grade on his own authority – must be fertile in curious incidents."

"I wish to leave you the pleasure of the surprise, my friend. Are you going out?" added he, seeing his master proceeding towards the door.

"I intend to pay my respects to the ladies."

"You will not have time for it; moreover, you could not talk freely with them; the two sisters of Don Pablo are at present with them."

"These women appear to have received orders not to lose sight of these two unhappy ladies; they pass nearly the whole day with them."

"It is probable that they have received instructions of the kind."

The young man did not answer, but he knitted his eyebrows, stamped with rage, and began to walk to and fro.

Some minutes elapsed

"Parbleu!" cried he at last, "I am a perfect ass to fret thus about things which cannot affect me, and which I cannot prevent! It is evident, in fact, that as life is a continual game of seesaw, when I shall have; reached the last step of bad fortune, I must remount, and that, according to fate, my position will improve. Bah! I will trust to Providence. He is more skilful than me, and will know well, when it pleases Him, how to enable me to escape from my embarrassment! However, it appears to me that it is time for a change; I am horribly wearied here. Upon my word, it was a splendid idea to come into this new world to seek tranquillity and patriarchal manners! Mercy on us! What patriots these Pincheyras are! And how true and copied from nature are the narratives of travel!"

And he laughed heartily.

As what precedes had been said in French, and consequently the Indian had not understood a word, he looked at the young man with a wondering air, which redoubled the hilarity of the latter; so that the Guaraní asked himself if his master had not suddenly gone mad. But a new personage at the moment appeared in the toldo, and by his presence calmed, as by enchantment, the gaiety of the Frenchman, and rendered him serious again.

This personage was no other than Don Santiago Pincheyra, one of the brothers of Don Pablo; he to whom the young man had rendered so great a service on the occasion of his skirmish with the squadron of Zeno Cabral.

Brutal and morose as was Don Santiago, he appeared to have preserved some gratitude to the painter for this service, and on several occasions he had manifested a slight interest in him. It was owing to his influence that the painter was treated with consideration in the camp of the partisans, and nearly free to act in his own way without being exposed to the gross annoyances of this undisciplined troop of bandits.

"I see with pleasure that you do not breed melancholy among you, Seigneurs Frenchmen," said he, holding out his hand. "So much the better! Grief would kill a cat, as we say."

"You see that I adapt myself to circumstances," answered Emile, pressing his hand. "To answer your proverb by another, I will say, things that can't be helped should be forgotten. What brings me the honour of your visit, dear Seigneur?"

"First, the desire of seeing you, and then, a message from my brother, Don Pablo Pincheyra."

"Believe me, that I feel as I ought this proof of courtesy, dear Seigneur," said the young man, bowing with politeness; "and this message that, through you, his Excellency Colonel Don Pablo Pincheyra does me the honour to send is important, no doubt?"

"You will decide that better than me, Señor; my brother requests your presence at the interview which is immediately to take place with some Spanish officers, who arrived about an hour ago at our headquarters."

"I am honoured by his Excellency deigning to think of me. I will present myself at the council when I shall have received the order to do so."

"This order I bring you, Seigneur Frenchman, and if you please to follow me I will accompany you to the place chosen for the interview, which is the council room in my brother's toldo."

"Very well, Seigneur Don Santiago, I am ready to follow you."

"Then we will set out together; for they only wait for you."

The painter exchanged with the Guaraní a last look, to which the latter responded by one not less significant, and, without saying anything further, he left the toldo with Don Santiago.

All was gossip at Casa-Frama; the unforeseen arrival of the strangers had awakened general curiosity; the streets were literally crammed with men, women, and children, who pressed towards the toldo of the colonel.

The two men had much difficulty in threading a passage through the crowd of idlers who obstructed the public way; and had it not been for Don Santiago, known and respected by all, the Frenchman would probably not have succeeded in reaching the spot he wanted.

Although the abode of Don Pablo Pincheyra bore the name of toldo, it was in reality a vast and airy house, built with the greatest possible care for the convenience of its owner. The walls were of clay, plastered and whitewashed carefully. Ten windows, with shutters painted green, and ornamented with climbing plants, which grew in various directions, gave it an air of gaiety which made it pleasant to look at. The door, preceded by a peristyle and a verandah, was in the centre of the building. Before this door a flagstaff was planted in the earth, surmounted by a Spanish flag. Two sentinels, armed with lances, were seated, one at the threshold of the door, the other at the foot of the flagstaff. A battery of six pieces of cannon was pointed a few paces in advance, half hidden at this moment by thirty horses, all harnessed, which champed their bits, and covered them with foam.

At the sight of Don Santiago the sentinels presented arms, and moved aside respectfully to give him passage, while the crowd was kept at a distance by some soldiers, previously placed there for that purpose, and had no other means of slaking their curiosity than that of questioning the attendants of the strangers who were watching their master's horses.

The two men entered the house. After having passed through a hall full of soldiers, they entered a room where several officers were talking in a high voice about the arrival of the strangers. Some of these officers approached Don Santiago to ask him the news; but the latter, who perhaps knew no more than they on this subject, or who had received strict instructions from his brother, only gave them evasive answers, and putting them aside gently with, his hand, he at last entered the council room, followed closely by the French painter, who began to be much interested in all he saw.

The council room was a rather large apartment, the whitewashed walls of which were completely bare, with the exception of a large Christ in ivory, placed at the extremity of the room, above an armchair occupied at the moment by Don Pablo Pincheyra. To the right of this figure a wretched engraving, frightfully illuminated, purported to represent the King of Spain, crowned, and with the scepter in his hand. To the left an engraving, not less ugly, represented, or was supposed to represent, Our Lady of Solitude.

The furniture was mean and primitive; some few benches and stools ranged against the walls, and a small table, formed the whole of it.

Don Pablo Pincheyra, dressed in the uniform of a Spanish colonel, was seated in his armchair; near him was his brother, Don José Antonio, on the right; the place of Don Santiago on his left was for the time vacant; then came Father Gomez, chaplain of Don Pablo – a fat and jovial monk, but whose eyes sparkled with wit; several officers – captains, lieutenants, and subalterns, grouped without order round their chief – were leaning on their sabres, and carelessly smoking their cigarettes, talking in a low voice.

Before the table was seated a tall, lean man, with ascetic features, and ambiguous, deceitful eyes. This was Don Justo Vallejos, Secretary of Don Pablo; for, as he had given himself the luxury of a chaplain, this worthy colonel no doubt had felt all the greater need of attaching a secretary to his person.

A cabo or corporal stood near the door, and filled; the functions of doorkeeper, introducing the visitors.

"At last!" cried Don Pablo, perceiving the Frenchman; "I began to fear that you would not come."

"We have had great difficulty in reaching here," answered Don Santiago, taking the place which had been reserved for him.

"Now you have come, all is ready, Señor Frenchman; place yourself there, near my secretary. Cabo Mendez, bring a chair for this gentleman."

The young man bowed silently, and, as he had received the order to do, he sat down near the secretary, who in turn bowed, and cast a furtive look at him by way of salute.

"Now, caballeros," pursued Don Pablo, addressing the company, "do not forget that representatives of his Most Sacred Majesty the King, our sovereign, are about to appear before us. Let us act, then, as the true caballeros that we are, and let us prove to them that we are not so savage as they perhaps have supposed."

The officers answered by a respectful bow, sat upright, and threw away their cigarettes.

Looking around him, Don Pablo assured himself that his wishes had been attended to, and that his officers had assumed an attitude more becoming than that they had previously taken, and then, turning towards the corporal, motionless at the door, on the lock of which his hand was placed —

"Cabo Mendez," said he, "introduce to us the representatives of his Catholic Majesty the King of Spain and the Indies."

The corporal opened both leaves of the door, and the persons expected, who were in an adjoining apartment, entered the room with a grave and measured tread, after the corporal had repeated, with a clear voice, and in an emphatic tone, the last words of Don Pablo Pincheyra.

These strangers, to whom was given a title to which they probably had a very doubtful right, were to the number of five.

Their escort had remained without. On perceiving them the young Frenchman with difficulty repressed an exclamation of surprise. Of the five persons he had recognized two whom he certainly was far from expecting to meet under such circumstances.