These words, spoken in Indian, must reach the traitor's ear as a vain sound, for the Aucas dialect is not generally understood by the Spaniards.
Still, a man, clothed like the other chiefs, and protected by the darkness, suddenly bounded far out of the circle, and uttered three different times the hoarse croak of the urubús. He leant against the trunk of the tree of Gualichu, and with his legs far apart, and a pistol in each hand, waited. This man was Pedrito, the bombero.
A living wall, formed of hundreds of Indians, rose in arms before him, and menaced him from all sides. Pedrito, to whom flight was impossible, frowned, gnashed his teeth, and foamed with rage.
"I am waiting for you, dogs," he yelled.
"Forward! Forward!" the Indians shouted.
"Silence!" Nocobotha ordered in a rough voice. "I wish to question him."
"What good is it?" Pincheira remarked, with a hateful expression. "He is one of those rats of the Pampa, whom the Spaniards call bomberos. I recognize him. Let us kill him at once."
"A bombero," the Indians yelled anew. "Death to him, death."
"Silence," said Nocobotha, "who dares to interrupt?"
At the command of the master silence was reestablished.
"Who are you?" the Toqui asked the bombero; "Who are you?" Pedrito replied with a grin, and crossing his arms, though he did not let go his pistols.
"Answer, if you would not die; you are in my power."
"A brave man only belongs to himself. He has always the resource of letting himself be killed."
"Perhaps so."
"Try to take me."
"Surrender, and no harm will be done you."
"A bombero never surrenders."
"Why did you introduce yourself among us."
"¡Canario! I came to witness your Indian jugglery, and learn the object of this nocturnal meeting."
"You are frank, at any rate, and I will take that into consideration. Come! Resistance would be useless, so surrender."
"Are you mad, my master?"
"Forward!" Nocobotha, who was boiling with rage, shouted to the Indians.
The latter rushed on. Two pistol shots were fired, and two Indians writhed on the sand. While the others hesitated, Pedrito returned his pistols to his belt, and drew his machete.
"Make way," he shouted.
"Death!" the warriors repeated.
"Way, way!"
And Pedrito dashed at the Indians, hitting right and left, cutting and pointing. Nocobotha threw himself in his path, with the roar of a wounded lion.
"Ah, ah," said the bombero, "my worthy chief, with the diamond sun, it is our turn."
All at once three shots were fired behind the Indians, and three horsemen dashed upon them, scattering terror and death around. The Indians, not knowing how many enemies they had to contend with, believed, owing to the darkness and the number of dead, that a considerable reinforcement had arrived, and began dispersing in all directions, with the exception of the more resolute, who held their ground and continued to resist the assailants. Among these were Nocobotha, Pincheira, and a few renowned chiefs.
The three bomberos, summoned by the hoarse croaking of Pedrito, had hastened up to their brother; they helped him to get onto the saddle of the horse they had brought up for him.
"Ah!" they shouted, "Down with the Indian dogs!"
Nocobotha dealt the Spaniard a blow with the machete, to which he responded by a cut that scarred his adversary's face. The Toqui uttered a cry, not of pain but of rage.
"Eh," the bombero said to him, "I shall recognize you, if ever we meet again, for you bear my marks."
"Villain!" the chief said, as he fired a pistol at him.
"Ah!" Pedrito muttered in his turn, as he sank in his saddle.
He would have fallen had not his sword prevented him.
"He has killed me," the wounded man said, in a faint voice. "Courage, brothers, do not leave my corpse to them."
The three bomberos, supporting their brother, redoubled their ardour to get him away from inevitable destruction; but how were they to fly? The Indians, when the first moment of panic had passed, being able to count their enemies, returned to the charge and threatened to overwhelm them by their numbers. The position was horrible, and Pedrito, who had retained his coolness, understood that his brothers were about to ruin themselves for him, so, sacrificing his life to save them, he shouted —
"Fly! Leave me alone here; in a few minutes I shall be dead."
"No!" they replied, making their horses prance to ward off the blows, "We will all get away or perish together."
Pedrito, who knew his brothers, was not ignorant that their resolution was unbending.
The fight was going on at this moment, two yards at the most from the tree of Gualichu, Pedrito, while his brothers were defending themselves on all sides at once, slipped down to the ground, and when the bomberos turned round, they found his horse without its rider. Pedrito had disappeared.
"He is dead, what is to be done?"
"Obey him, as we were unable to save him," Juan answered.
"Forward, then!"
And all three, tearing up their horses' sides with their spurs, bounded into the thick of the Indians. The collision was terrible; still, a few seconds later, the bomberos, saved from danger by their incredible audacity, were flying, like the wind, in three different directions, while uttering cries of triumph.
The Indians recognized the inutility of a pursuit across the sand; so they contented themselves with picking up their dead and counting the wounded, altogether some thirty victims.
"These Spaniards are perfect demons, when they are obstinate," Pincheira said, remembering his own origin.
"Yes," Nocobotha answered him, mad with fury, "if ever I place my foot on their chest, they will expiate the wrongs they have done my race for centuries."
"I am entirely devoted to you," Pincheira continued.
"Thanks, my friend. When the hour arrives, I shall remind you of your promise."
"I shall be ready; but at present what are your designs?"
"The scar that madman has made on my head compels me to fire the train as soon as possible."
"Do so, I pray; and let us finish with these accursed Spaniards so soon as we can."
"Then you really hate your countrymen?"
"I have an Indian heart, and that is saying enough."
"I will soon procure you the opportunity to slake your vengeance."
"May heaven hear you!"
"But the chiefs have again assembled round the council fire; come, brother."
Nocobotha and Pincheira approached the tree of Gualichu, where the Indians were grouped, motionless, silent, and calm, as if nothing had disturbed their gathering.
CHAPTER V.
THE COUNCIL OF THE ULMENS
The Indians, while collecting their dead, sought in vain the corpse of the white man, and persuaded themselves that his comrades had carried it off. The latter, on the other hand, reproached themselves bitterly for having left their brother's body in the hands of the Pagans.
Now, what had become of Pedrito?
The bombero was one of those iron men, whom a powerful will leads to their object, and whom death alone can conquer. He wished, therefore, to be present at the council of the chiefs, the high import of which he suspected; and instead of throwing his life away in an unequal struggle, he found in Nocobotha's shot the pretext