"Are you going already, Don Torribio?" said she, as she saw him move for the purpose.
"I must, señorita; I am one of the chiefs of the Indian army. In that quality, I have duties to fulfil, and must make preparations for the morrow. I entreat you to let me go."
Bowing respectfully to her and her father, Don Torribio retired.
"All is lost," said Don Pedro; "the Mexicans will never be able to withstand the assault."
Doña Hermosa looked at him with a strange expression, and then whispered in his ear:
"Because," said she, with a coaxing smile, "you seem to have forgotten the story of Delilah."
"What!" he exclaimed, more astonished than ever; "Do you intend to cut off his hair?"
"_¿Quién sabe?_" she answered, shaking her head knowingly, and with a delicious assumption of bravado; while at the same time she put one of her fingers on her rosy lips.
Don Pedro gave the shrug of a man who is utterly at a loss to understand, and who gives up an inexplicable enigma.
[1] A fact. An identical occurrence took place at the Carmen of Patagonia, daring an attack by the Indians.
The redskins in general, and the Apaches in particular, exhibit a surprising degree of craftiness when on the warpath, or preparing for a hazardous expedition. The best troops of the civilized world cannot compete with them in subtlety and wariness, such pains do they take to conceal and dissemble their movements.
Towards three o'clock in the morning, just as the first pearly notes issued from the throats of the _mawkawis_[1] nestled among the leaves, the Tigercat and Don Torribio rose from their beds, armed themselves for the fight, and issued forth from their toldos, followed by several Apache braves, directing their silent and rapid steps towards the centre of the camp, where the _sachems_ of the tribes, crouched on their haunches around an immense brasier, smoked the war calumet while waiting for the great chief.
When the Tigercat appeared, the Indians rose in a body to reverence their leader.
The Tigercat, returning their salute, made them a sign to be seated, and turning to the _amantzin,_ or sorcerer, who stood by his side. "Will the Master of life remain neutral?" he asked. "Will the Wacondah be propitious to the Apache braves? Or will he be adverse to the war his Indian sons, united before the stone _atepelt_ (village) of the palefaces, are going to wage this day against their oppressors?"