"Now, what are we going to do?" Doña Maria asked.
And folding himself in his poncho, he laid down on the ground and closed his eyes.
On their side, the Spaniards had set out a little before daybreak. They formed a compact troop of five hundred horsemen, in the centre of whom rode without arms, and between two lancers, charged to blow out his brains at the least suspicious action, General Bustamente.
In advance of this troop, there was another of an almost equal force; this was, in appearance, composed of Indians. We say in appearance, because the men were in reality Chilians, but their Araucano costume, their arms, even to the caparison of their horses, in short, everything in their disguise, was so exact, that at a short distance it was impossible for even the experienced eyes of the Indians themselves to detect them. These apparent Indians were commanded by Joan.
When arrived at mid-distance between Valdivia and the Canyon, the hindermost troop halted, whilst that commanded by Joan continued its march, but slowly, and with increased precaution. Four horsemen closed the rear; Don Tadeo, Don Gregorio, the count, and Curumilla, who were engaged in earnest conversation.
"Then you persist in having nobody with you?" said Don Gregorio.
"Nobody; we two will be quite sufficient," Curumilla replied, pointing to the young Frenchman.
"Why will you not take me with you?" Don Tadeo asked.
"I thought you would prefer remaining with your soldiers."
"I am anxious to join my daughter as soon as possible."
"Come, then, by all means. You," turning to Don Gregorio, "will remember that nothing must induce you to enter the defile before you see a fire blazing on the summit of the Corcovado."
"That is perfectly understood, so now farewell."
After exchanging hearty shakes of the hand, the four men separated. Don Gregorio galloped after his troops, whilst Don Tadeo and the count, guided by Curumilla, began to climb the mountain. They continued to ascend for more than an hour, and at last reached a platform of considerable extent.
"Dismount," he said; Curumilla setting the example, which his companions followed.
"Let us unsaddle our horses," the chief continued. "We shall not want the poor beasts for some time. I know a place, not far off, where they will be comfortably sheltered, and where we can find them when we come back--if we do come back," he added.