by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER FIFTY THREE.
A DELUDED JAILER.
Midnight's hour is past, the moon has gone down, and in the Indian townthere is darkness and silence. Every one is asleep, or seems to be;since no light shines either in _toldo_ or tent, neither can a humanfigure be seen in the streets, or anywhere around.
At some distance from the houses, however, among thickly-standing trees,and close into the base of the hill, is the quaint dwelling-place ofShebotha--half cave, half hut--and inside this flickers a faint light,from a dip candle of crude beeswax, with a wick of the fibre of the_pita_ plant. By its red flame, mingled with much smoke, a collectionof curious objects is dimly discernible; not articles of furniture, forthese are few, but things appertaining to the craft in which Shebotha issupposed to have skill--demonology. There are the bones and skins ofmonkeys, with those of snakes, lizards, and other reptiles; teeth of thealligator and jaguar; the proboscis-like snouts of the _tapir_ and_tamanoir_, or great ant-bear, with a variety of other like oddities,furnished by the indigenous creatures of the Chaco in every departmentof the zoological world--birds, quadrupeds, insects, reptiles, andfishes.
This motley conglomeration is for the most part arranged against theinner wall of the hut, and opposite the entrance, so as to be observableby any one looking in at the door, or even passing by it. For itspurpose is to impress the superstitious victims of Shebotha's craft witha belief in her witching ways. And to give this a more terrifying andsupernatural character, a human skull, representing a death's head, witha pair of tibia for crossbones underneath, is fixed centrally andprominently against the wall.
The same light that so faintly illuminates this paraphernalia ofrepulsive objects, also shines upon one that is pleasing--this thefigure of a young girl, with a face wonderfully fair. For she isFrancesca Halberger.
At the hour spoken of she is the sole occupant of the hut; its owner,Shebotha, being abroad. For it is the self-same hour and instant whenthe sorceress has the rosary of teeth snatched so rudely from her neck.She is seated on the edge of a _catre_, or cane bedstead, of the palletkind, her head buried in her hands, through the white fingers of whichher long golden tresses fall in rich profusion, scattered over andmingling with the fur of the great pampas wolf which serves as a sort ofmattress for the bed.
The candle has burnt down into the socket of its rude stick, but atintervals flares up, with a crackling, sputtering noise; as it it doesso, showing upon her features that same sad look as when she was beingcarried hither, a captive; only that her face is now paler, and theexpression upon it telling of a despair deeper and more settled. Shehas slept but little from the day of her entrance under Shebotha's roof,and no great deal since she last lay on her own bed at home. What sleepshe now gets is only in short snatches; when tired nature can no longercontinue the struggle with thoughts all the while torturing her. Nowonder at sweet slumber being thus long denied her, with such memoriesto keep her awake! In fancy, ever before her seems the face of herfather with that look of agony she last saw upon it, as he lay upon theground, weltering in his gore. And in fancy also, she beholds theruffian, Valdez, standing above the prostrate form, waving over it hisblood-stained spear, a very demon exultant!
But her painful thoughts are not all of the past. She has doubts andfears also for the future, dark as she reflects on her own situation,and what will be done to her; but still darker when she thinks of thoseleft behind and far away. What will become of her dear mother andbrother? What of him--dear, ah! perhaps dearer than either--herhandsome cousin? For Cypriano's affection for her is fullyreciprocated.
Not strange then the sadness overspreading her features, nor the weightof woe in her heart; as she dwells on the fate that may be his andtheirs. For she knows they are all in danger--great and certain danger;has known it ever since seeing Valdez, the _vaqueano_, consorting withthe Tovas Indians, and on friendly terms with their chief. Oft had sheasked herself the question whither he went afterwards! Did he return toParaguay, or go direct to the _estancia_, there to complete hisdiabolical work--begun by murder, to end in the same with other crimes?In any case he would not likely leave them unharmed, as the captive girltoo truly apprehends.
With such terrible thoughts to agitate her breast, no wonder she shouldbe awake while everyone around seems slumbering. But on this night, andat this hour, something besides hinders her from seeking repose; thatbeing the absence of Shebotha, which, for certain reasons, makes hermore than ordinarily apprehensive. In truth, she is greatly alarmed byit. Never before has the sorceress been out of her _toldo_ to stay forany continued time; above all, never during the hours of night. Whyshould she be absent now, and so long?
While asking herself these questions, the captive has not the slightestintention to take advantage of Shebotha's absence, and make trial toescape. Well knows she that would be idle, and she could not get awayif she tried. For though the owner of the hut is off watch, there isone on it--a man sitting, or squatted, just outside the door. No redman, but one with a white skin; himself a prisoner, and who possiblyonce, as she, felt distressed by his captivity. It may have been thisvery feeling which has made him what he now is--a witless idiot,resigned to his fate. In any case, he seems to be contented asShebotha's slave; and, perhaps ignorant of there being any better,serves her with a fidelity worthy of a better mistress. No watch-dog atthat _toldo's_ door were more to be trusted than he.
She inside has no intention, nor ever had, of tempting him to be untrueto his trust. Even could he be induced to let her pass out, whatpurpose would it serve? She could not make her way home; and he is notthe sort of man to see her safe through more than two hundred miles ofwilderness. The idea is too hopeless to be entertained, and she doesnot for an instant entertain it.
The thoughts that now occupy her mind are not of how she may escape fromher captivity, but dwelling upon a theme altogether different. She isthinking who will be the next one to darken the door of the hut; fearingit may be neither Shebotha herself, nor yet her slave, but the man whois master of both--Aguara!
True, the young _cacique_ has not as yet offered her either outrage orinsult; instead still approaches her with courtesy, and a pretence offriendship. For all, something--it may be instinct--admonishes her thathe is acting under a mask, which he may at any moment cast aside,revealing the monster, as she believes him to be. And with sufficientreason, recalling that tragedy which deprived her of a father; and sure,despite all his protestations, that Aguara played a willing part in it.
While thus apprehensively reflecting, she hears footsteps, as of someone approaching the place. The sound causes her to start to her feet,and stand listening, with a heightened expression of fear upon her face.For, although the footfall is distant, and only distinguishable as suchby the rustle it makes among the dead leaves, she can tell it is notthat of Shebotha, with whose halting gait and shuffling step her ear hasgrown familiar. Whose, then? Who would be coming to the hut at thattime of night--now morning--save Shebotha herself? None but she, andthose of her belonging, dare do so either by night or by day? For the_toldo_ of the sorceress is a sort of sanctuary, tabooed to the peopleof the tribe, and no one may enter or approach its sacred precincts,without having her permission, or being bidden by her. Yes; one may,and can--Aguara.
Still darker shows the fear upon the face of the captive girl, as shethinks of this special privilege accorded to the _cacique_, of which shehas been made aware. It must be he who is drawing near, and with him adanger she has long vaguely apprehended.
For some seconds she remains intently listening, her young heart pulsingaudibly within her breast. It beats easier as the footfall drawsnigher, and she can tell it is not that of a man. The tread is toolight and elastic. It cannot be Aguara who approaches.
She is still surer of its not being he, as the footsteps, having comeclose up to the hut, cease to be heard, and in their place a differentsound enters through the open door--a feminine voice speaking in soft,dulcet tones.
The speech is not addressed to the captive herself, but to him whowatches outside. After an interchange of ordinary salutation, and aninquiry by the watcher as to what is wanted--this evidently in tone ofsurprise--the soft voice responds, "I want to speak with the little palefree."
"You cannot. Shebotha forbids it. No one may enter here without herpermission."
"But I have more than her permission--her commands. She has sent mewith a message to the paleface. At this moment Mam Shebotha has amatter elsewhere, and could not come herself."
"You may be speaking the truth, but how am I to know?" questions theman, as he regards the intruder with an incredulous stare. "I don't goso far as to say you are telling a lie. All I say is, that the thingisn't at all likely. Mam Shebotha's not the sort to trust her affairsto such a _chiquitita_ as you."
"You know me, don't you?"
"Oh, yes; you are Kaolin's sister--her they call the belle of the tribe;your name's Nacena."
"It is so; and surely you'll believe me? The sister of Kaolin would notspeak false. You cannot suppose I am deceiving you?"
"Ah!" he rejoins, with his words heaving a sigh, "it is often those whoare most beautiful who most deceive."
Possibly the memory of some such deception, an experience of times longpast, has been awakened within him. It embitters his speech as hecontinues--
"I can't--I won't believe you--though you are Kaolin's sister, and everso fair to look upon."
"But you will, when you look upon this."
She draws out the string of teeth snatched from the neck of thesorceress, and holds it up to his eyes, adding--
"That I bring from Shebotha herself. She gave it me to show you as asign that I have her permission to speak with the paleface--nay, hercommand, as I've said. Now!"
At sight of the hideous symbol, which he instantly recognises, hisincredulity is at an end. For he knows how jealously the sorceressguards this token, and that no one could have obtained it from herwithout some special purpose, or to do a service to herself. What itmay be he questions not, nor longer forbids entrance to the hut, butnods towards the door, as much as to say--
"You can go in."