CHAPTER XVIII.
THE BLACK JACKAL.
In order to make the facts which follow intelligible, we are obligedhere to relate an adventure which happened more than twenty years beforethe period at which our history commences.
Towards the end of the month of December, 1816, on a cold, rainy night,a traveller, mounted on an excellent horse, and carefully wrapped inthe folds of an ample cloak, was following at a round trot the road,or rather the blind path, on the mountains which leads from Cruces toSan-Jose. This man was a rich landowner, who was making a journey intoAraucania, for the purpose of treating with the Indians for a largenumber of cattle and sheep. Having left Cruces about two o'clock in theafternoon, he had been delayed on his way by settling some business withvarious _guasos_, and he was hastening to gain a hacienda he possessedat some leagues from the spot where he then was, and where he reckonedupon passing the night.
The country at the time was not in a state of tranquillity. For severaldays past the Puelches had appeared in arms upon the frontiers of Chili,and made incursions into the territories of the republic, burning thechacras, and carrying off the families they surprised. These marauderswere commanded by a chief named The Black Jackal, whose cruelty spreadterror among the people exposed to his depredations.
It was, therefore, with some anxiety, mixed with secret apprehensions,that the man we have spoken of made all speed along the desolate roadwhich led to his hacienda. Every minute only added to his fears. Thestorm, which had threatened all day, burst forth at last with a furyof which we have no conception in our climates. The wind roared loudlythrough the trees, bending some, and uprooting others. The rain fell intorrents, and the lightning became so vivid, that the horse began toplunge and rear, and refused to advance. The rider spurred the restiveanimal, and endeavoured, as well as the darkness would permit, todiscover whereabouts he was. After surmounting immense difficulties, hesaw at length, in the distance, the shadow of the walls of his hacienda,and the lights which shone like guiding stars, when suddenly his horsebounded on one side in such a way as almost to unseat him. When, withmuch trouble, he had recovered his command of the animal, he lookedround to see what could have frightened it so, and perceived, withterror equal to the horse's, several men of sinister appearance standingmotionless before him. The horseman's first movement was to seize hispistols, in order to sell his life as dearly as he could, for he had nodoubt he had fallen into an ambuscade of bandits.
"Keep your hands from your weapons, Don Antonio Quintana," said a roughvoice; "we desire neither your life nor your money."
"What do you want then?" he replied, in a tone that showed he was alittle reassured by that frank declaration, though he still kept on thedefensive.
"Hospitality for this night, in the first place," said the other.
Don Antonio endeavoured to ascertain if he knew the man who was speakingto him, but he could not distinguish his features through the darkness.
"The doors of my dwelling always fly open to the stranger," he remarked;"why have you not knocked at them?"
"Knowing you must come this way, I preferred waiting for you."
"What else do you desire of me, then?"
"I will tell you under your own roof; the open road is a place illadapted for imparting confidence."
"If you have nothing more to say to me now, and are as willing as I amto get under shelter, we will continue our journey."
"Go on, then; we will follow you."
Without exchanging another word, they directed their course towards thehacienda. Don Antonio Quintana was a resolute man, as the manner inwhich he had replied to the men who had so rudely barred his passageproved him. In spite of the fluency with which the one who had spokenemployed the Spanish language, he had, at the first word, by hisguttural accent, perceived he was an Indian; and with him fear hadimmediately given way to curiosity, and he had not hesitated to grantthe hospitality asked, knowing that the Araucano, Puelches, Hueliches,or Moluchos, never violate the roof under which they are welcomed, andthat the hosts who shelter them are held sacred.
On arriving at the hacienda, Don Antonio found he was not mistaken; themen who had accosted him in so strange a manner were really Indians.There were four of them, and with them was a young woman with a childat the breast. The hacendero welcomed them to his dwelling with all theminute forms of Castilian courtesy, and gave orders to his peones orIndian domestics, terrified at the savage appearance of the strangers,to assist them with everything they might desire.
"Eat and drink," he said, "you are at home, here."
"Thanks!" replied the man, who had till that time been spokesman. "Weaccept your offer with as good a will as you give it, as far as regardsfood, of which we stand most in need."
"Will you not rest till day?" asked Don Antonio; "the night is dark, andthe weather frightful for travelling."
"A black night is what we desire; besides, we must depart immediately.Now, allow me to put my second request to you."
"Explain yourself," said the Spaniard, examining the speaker attentively.
The latter was a tall, well-made man, of about forty; hisstrongly-marked features and his commanding eye proclaimed that he wasaccustomed to exercise authority.
"It was I," he said, without preamble, "who directed the last invasionmade upon the palefaces of the frontiers. My mosotones were all killedyesterday in an ambuscade by your lanceros; the three you see with meare all that remain of a troop of two hundred warriors; the others aredead. I myself am wounded, hunted, tracked like a wild beast; we arewithout horses to rejoin our tribe, without weapons to defend ourselvesif we are attacked on the plain. I come to ask of you the means ofescape from our pursuers. I will neither deceive nor surprise your goodfaith. I am bound to tell you the name of the man whose safety you holdin your hands. I am the greatest enemy of the Spaniards; my life hasbeen passed in contending with them. In a word, I am The Black Jackal,the Apo-Ulmen of the Black Serpents."
On hearing this redoubtable name the Chilian could not suppress a startof terror; but immediately recovering his self-possession, he replied ina calm voice, and in a kind tone.
"You are my guest, and you are unfortunate, two titles sacred with me. Idesire to know nothing more; you shall have horses and arms."
A smile of ineffable sweetness lit up the countenance of the Indian.
"One last prayer," he said.
"Speak."
The chief took by the hand the young Indian squaw, who had remainedcowering and weeping in a corner, rocking her child in her arms, andpresented her to Don Antonio.
"This woman belongs to me; this child is mine," he said, "and I confidethem both to you."
"I will take charge of them; the woman shall be my sister, the child myson," the hacendero replied kindly, and after the Indian fashion.
"The Apo-Ulmen will remember!" said the Puelche chief, in a voicetrembling with emotion.
He imprinted a kiss upon the brow of the poor little creature, whosmiled upon him, cast upon the woman a look beaming with tenderness,and rushed out of the house, followed by his companions. Don Antoniosupplied them with arms and horses, and the four Indians disappeared inthe darkness.
Many years passed away ere Don Antonio heard anything of the BlackJackal; the woman and the child remained at the hacienda, and weretreated as if they had been members of the Chilian's family. Thehacendero had been married; but, unfortunately, after a year, whichpromised to be the commencement of a long and happy union, the wife diedwhen giving birth to a beautiful little girl, whom her father namedMaria. The two children grew up together, watched over by the anxioussolicitude of the Indian woman, loving each other like brother andsister.
At length, one day, a numerous troop of Puelches, magnificently equippedand mounted, arrived at Rio-Claro, the town in which Don Antonioresided. The chief of these Indians was the Black Jackal, who came toredemand his wife and son of him to whom he had intrusted them. Theinterview was very affecting. The chief forgot his Indian stoicism; hegave hims
elf up to the feelings which agitated him, and enjoyed thehappiness of finding again, after such a length of time, the two beingshe held dearest in the world. When it became necessary to depart, andthe children learnt they were to be separated, they shed abundance oftears. They had been accustomed from their infancy to live together, andthey could not comprehend why they were not to continue to do so.
Don Antonio had extended his traffic over different parts of thefrontiers; he possessed chacras, in which the breeding of cattlewas carried on upon a vast scale. The Black Jackal, who had sworna perpetual friendship, became of great use to him in his businesstransactions; he often put him in the way of making excellent bargainswith his compatriots, and, what was still more serviceable, protectedhis property from the depredations of plunderers. Every year Don Antoniovisited all his chacras in Araucania, and passed a couple of monthsamong the tribe of the Black Serpents, with his friend, the BlackJackal. His daughter accompanied him in all these journeys, on accountof the friendship that existed between the children. Things went on thusfor many years.
At the period when our history commences, the Black Jackal was dead:he had fallen, like a brave warrior, with his weapons in his hand, ina combat on the frontier; his son, Antinahuel, now about thirty-fiveyears of age, who promised to tread in his footsteps, had been electedApo-Ulmen in his place, and afterwards Toqui of his Uthal-Mapus orprovince, which made him one of the principal men of Araucania. DonAntonio had likewise died, shortly after the marriage of his daughter,Dona Maria, with Don Tadeo de Leon, brought to an untimely grave by hisgrief at her misconduct, which had produced terrible scandal in theupper classes of Santiago.
Dona Maria for some years past had only seen Antinahuel at longintervals; but between them their friendship remained as warm as inthe days of their childhood; and, on the part of the Indian warrior,it was carried so far that he obeyed the least caprice of the youngwoman as an imperative duty. Great, then, was the astonishment of thewarriors of the tribe of the Black Serpents, when, in the evening ofthe day on which we have resumed our story, they saw Dona Maria arriveon horseback, accompanied only by two peons, at their tolderia, and gostraight towards the rancho of the Toqui. On perceiving her, the usuallygloomy face of the chief was suddenly lighted up with an expression ofgladness.
"Eglantine of the Woods!" he cried, in a joyous tone, "does my sisterthen still remember the poor Indian?"
"I have come to visit the toldo of my brother," she said, turning herbrow towards him, upon which he impressed a kiss; "my heart is sad,grief devours me--and I have remembered my brother."
The chief cast a look upon her of anxiety, mingled with sorrow.
"Although it be to trouble that I owe the visit of my sister, I am,nevertheless, rejoiced to see her."
"Yes," she resumed, "when we are in trouble we think of our friends."
"My sister has done well in thinking of me; what can I do for her?"
"My brother can render me a great service."
"My life is my sister's; she knows she can dispose of it at herpleasure."
"Thank you! I was certain I could depend upon my brother."
"Everywhere, and at all times."
After bowing respectfully to Dona Maria, he led her into his rancho,where his mother had prepared everything worthy of the visit of one whomfor so many years she had loved as a daughter.