astonishment at his companion. The air of savage grandeur, visible in the countenance of the tiger-hunter – vassal of the hacienda Las Palmas – surprised him, as did also the pretentious manner in which he spoke about reviving the ancient splendours of his race.
The look and its meaning did not escape the observation of the Indian.
“Friend Clara!” said he, in a confidential tone, “listen to me, while I reveal to you a secret which I have kept for many long years – long enough for me to have seen fifty dry seasons, and fifty seasons of rain; and this fact can be confirmed to you by all of my colour and race.”
“You have seen fifty seasons of rain?” cried the negro, in a tone of astonishment, at the same time regarding his companion attentively, who in truth did not appear to be over thirty years of age. “Fifty seasons of rain?”
“Well, not quite fifty,” replied Costal, with a smile, “but very near it.”
“Ah! I shall see fifty more,” continued he. “Omens have told me that I shall live as long as the ravens.”
The negro remained silent, still held in surprise by the wild declarations which his companion was volunteering to make to him.
“Listen, friend Clara!” continued the tiger-hunter, extending his arm in a circle, and designating the four points of the compass; “in all the space that a horseman could traverse between sunrise and sunset – from north to south, from east to west – there is not a spot of ground that was not once possessed by my ancestors – the ancient lords of Zapoteca. Before the vessels of the white men touched upon our coasts, they were sovereign masters of all this land – from ocean to ocean. The sea alone was their boundary. Thousands of warriors followed their banners, and crowded around their plume-bedecked standards of war. In the ocean the pearl-banks, and on the land the placers of gold belonged to them. The yellow metal glanced upon their dresses and armour, or ornamented the very sandals upon their feet. They possessed it in such abundance, they scarce knew what to do with it.
“Where now are the once powerful Caciques of Tehuantepec? Most of their subjects have been slaughtered by the thunder of the white men, or buried in the dark mines – while the conquerors have divided among them and made slaves of the survivors! An hundred needy adventurers have been transformed into grand magnates – each endowed with a portion of the conquered territory; and at this moment the last descendant of the Caciques is forced to earn his subsistence almost as a slave – to submit to the tyranny of a white master – to expose his life daily for the destruction of fierce beasts, lest they should ravage the flocks and herds of his thankless employer; while, of the vast plains over which he is compelled to pursue his perilous calling, there remains to him not a spot he can call his own – not even the ground occupied by his miserable hut.”
The speaker might have gone on much longer without fear of his hearer interrupting him. The latter was held mute with astonishment, as well as by a kind of involuntary respect with which the words of his companion had inspired him. In all probability the negro had never before heard that a powerful and civilised people existed in that country previous to the arrival of the Spaniards. At all events he had never suspected that the man who was thus enlightening him – the half-Pagan, half-Christian tiger-hunter – was the descendant of the ancient masters of Tehuantepec.
As for Costal himself, after making these statements of the former splendours of his family – in which, notwithstanding his pompous mode of declaring them, there was much truth – he lapsed into a profound silence; and, his face turned with a melancholy expression upon the ground, he took no notice of the effect produced on the mind of his black companion.
Chapter Seven.
The Chase of the Jaguar
The sun was gradually inclining towards the horizon, when a prolonged howl, shrill at first, but ending in a hoarse roar, fell upon the ears of the two adventurers. It appeared to come from a brake some distance down the river; but, near or distant, it at once changed the expression upon the countenance of the negro. Fear took the place of astonishment; and, on hearing the sound, he sprang suddenly to his feet.
“Jesus Maria!” exclaimed he, “it is the jaguar again!”
“Well, what if it be?” said Costal, who had neither risen, nor made the slightest gesture.
“The jaguar!” repeated the negro in his terror.
“The jaguar? You are mistaken,” said Costal.
“God grant that I may be,” rejoined the black, beginning to hope that the sounds had deceived him.
“You are mistaken as to the number,” coolly proceeded Costal. “There is not one jaguar, but four – if you include the cachorros!”
Perceiving the sense in which Costal meant he was mistaken, the negro, with terror gleaming in his eyes, appeared as if about to start off towards the hacienda.
“Take care what you do!” said the Indian, apparently inclined to amuse himself with the fears of his companion. “It is quite true, I believe, that these animals are very fond of black men’s flesh.”
“Carrambo! just now you told me the contrary?”
“Well, perhaps I am mistaken upon that point; but one thing I know well – for I have proved it a hundred times – that is, that a brace of tigers, when the male and female are together, seldom roar in that fashion – especially if they suspect the presence of a human being. It is more likely, therefore, that at this moment they are separated; and by going towards the hacienda, you might risk getting between the two.”
“Heaven preserve me from getting into such a scrap,” muttered the negro.
“Well, then; the best thing you can do is to stay where you are – beside a man who don’t care a claco for the jaguars.”
The negro hesitated, not quite certain that it would be the best thing for him. At that moment, however, a second howl, coming in a direction entirely opposite to the first, decided his uncertainty, and convinced him that the tigrero had spoken the truth.
“You see,” said Costal, “the brutes are in search of something to eat. That’s why they are calling to one another. Well, now! if you’re still in the mind, off with you to the hacienda!”
This was of course meant as a taunt; for the negro, who now perceived that there was a jaguar howling in the way that led to the hacienda, had given up all notion of proceeding in that direction. On the contrary, while his black face turned of an ashen-grey colour, he drew closer to his imperturbable companion – who had not even attempted to take hold of the carbine which lay on the grass by his side!
“Bah!” muttered Costal, speaking to himself, “this comrade of mine is scarce brave enough for my purpose. I must defer it, till I meet with one possessed of more courage.” Then resuming the current of his thoughts, which had been interrupted by the howling of the jaguars, he said aloud – “Where is the red man, where the black, who would not lift his arm to aid this brave priest? – he who has risen against the oppressor – the oppressor of all Zapoteques, Creoles, and Aztecs. Have these Spaniards not been more ferocious than even the tigers themselves?”
“I should not fear them, at any rate,” interposed Clara.
“Good! I am glad you talk that way, comrade. To-morrow let us give warning to our master, Don Mariano de Silva. He must find another tigrero; and we shall go and join the insurgents in the west.”
The Indian had scarce finished his speech, when another howl came from the jaguars, as if to put the patience of the tiger-hunter to the test. It was even more spitefully prolonged, coming in the direction in which the first had been heard – that is, from a point upon the river a little above where the two men were seated.
On hearing it, thus uttered as a signal of defiance, the eyes of the tigrero began to sparkle with an irresistible desire for the chase.
“By the souls of the Caciques of Tehuantepec!” exclaimed he, “this is too much for human patience. I shall teach those two braggarts not to talk so loud of their affairs. Now, Clara!” continued