voice;
"Where am I? What has happened?"
"She speaks, she lives, she is saved," Pedrito exclaimed.
"Who is there?" she asked, raising herself with difficulty.
At the sight of the bombero's gloomy face, she had a fresh outburst of terror, closed her eyes again, and fell back exhausted.
"Reassure yourself, my girl. I am your friend."
"My friend! What means that word? Have slaves any friends? Ah, yes," she continued, speaking as if in a dream, "I have suffered terribly. Still I can remember long, long ago, being happy, but alas! The worst misfortune is the recollection of past happiness in misery."
She was silent. The bombero gazed at her, and listened to her as if suspended on her lips. That voice, those features! A vague suspicion entered Pedrito's head.
"Oh, speak, speak again," he said, softening down the harshness of his voice, "what do you remember of your youthful years?"
"Why think of past joys in misfortune? What does it avail?" she added, shaking her head with discouragement. "My history is that of all unfortunate persons. There was a time when, like other children, I had the song of birds to lull me to sleep, flowers that smiled on me when I awoke, and a mother who loved and embraced me – all that has fled forever."
Pedrito had raised two poles covered with skins to shelter her from the storm, which was gradually subsiding.
"You are kind, for you have saved me; still, your kindness was cruel, for why did you not let me die? People who are dead no longer suffer. The Pehuenches will return, and then – "
She did not conclude, and buried her face in her hands, with choking sobs.
"Fear nothing, señorita; I will defend you."
"Poor man; alone against all! But before my last hour arrives, listen to me, for I wish to relieve my heart. One day I was playing in my mother's arms, my father was near us, with my two sisters and my four brothers, resolute men who would not have feared twenty. Well! the Pehuenches came up, they burned our estancia, for my father was a farmer, they killed my mother, and – "
"Mercedes, Mercedes!" the bombero exclaimed, "Is it really you? Do I find you again?"
"That was the name my mother gave me."
"It is I, Pedro, Pedrito, your brother," the bombero said, almost shouting with joy, and clasping her to his bosom.
"Pedrito! My brother! Yes, yes, I remember. Pedrito, I am – "
She fell senseless into her brother's arms.
"Wretch that I am, I have killed her! Mercedes, my beloved sister, come to yourself again, or I shall die."
The maiden opened her eyes again, and threw herself on the bombero's neck, weeping with joy.
"Pedrito! My kind brother, do not leave me, defend me; they would kill me."
"Poor girl, they will pass over my body before reaching you."
"They will do so," a sarcastic voice exclaimed behind the tent.
Two men appeared, Nocobotha and Pincheira. Pedrito, holding his sister, who was half-dead with terror, with his left hand, leant against one of the posts, drew his machete, and prepared for a vigorous defence.
Nocobotha and Pincheira, too enlightened to be the dupes of the mysterious voice of Gualichu, and yield to the general panic, had, however, fled with their comrades; but they had turned back unnoticed. Curious to know the meaning of this enigma, and the author of the mystification, they had listened to the entire conversation between brother and sister.
"Well," Pincheira said, with a laugh, "you seem tolerably lively for a dead man. It seems, Canario, that you must be killed twice, in order to make sure that you will not recover. But, be easy, if my friend missed you, I shall not do so."
"What do you want with me?" Pedrito said. "Let us pass."
"Not at all," Pincheira replied, "that would be rather too dangerous an example. And stay," he added, after listening, "do you hear that galloping? your affair is as good as settled, there are our mosotones coming back."
In fact, the sound of a cavalcade momentarily drew nearer, and in the pale gleam of dawn the dim outlines of numerous horsemen could be distinguished in the distance. Pedrito saw that he was lost; he kissed for the last time the pale brow of his unconscious sister, laid her behind him, crossed himself, and prepared to die as a brave man should.
"Come," said Nocobotha, "let us have an end of this; it looks as if this scoundrel were afraid of death."
"Make haste," Pincheira answered, "I hear our men, and if we do not make haste, our prey will be torn from us."
"You did not fancy you were speaking so truly, Señor Pincheira," Pepe exclaimed, suddenly appearing with his two brothers; "now, let us see who is to be killed."
"Thanks, my brave brothers," Pedrito said joyously.
"Malediction!" Pincheira said with an oath, "Are these scoundrels everywhere?"
"I will not have him escape me," Nocobotha muttered, as he bit his lips till the blood came.
"Fie on you, caballeros," Pepe exclaimed ironically. "On guard, defend yourselves like men, or I shall kill you like dogs."
The blades crossed, and the fight began with equal fury on both sides.
CHAPTER VI.
NOCOBOTHA
A struggle to the death was preparing between these irreconcilable enemies, the bomberos and the Indians; and on this occasion it seemed as if the advantage would be on the side of the brothers.
Mercedes, who had recovered from her fainting fit, felt so terrified that she regretted that she had awoken again.
After the first collision, Nocobotha fell back a step, lowered his weapon, made Pincheira a sign to imitate him, and with folded arms walked towards the brothers.
"Stay," he cried, "this fight will not take place; it is not proper for men to risk their lives in disputing for the possession of a woman."
An ironical smile contracted the bronzed faces Of Pedrito's brothers, while Pincheira stamped his foot impatiently. The Indian chief continued, without heeding these marks of disapproval —
"A man's blood is precious. Take away your sister, my good fellow. I give her to you; may she be happy with you."
"Our sister!" the three young men exclaimed with amazement.
"Yes," Pedrito said; "but what conditions do you exact?"
"None," the chief answered nobly.
Nocobotha's generosity was the more disinterested because the bomberos perceived by the first rays of the rising sun a band of nearly one thousand Indians, well equipped, and painted and armed for war, who had silently advanced and formed a a circle round them.
"Can we," Pedrito asked, "trust to your word, and have we no cause to fear a trap?"
"My word," the Ulmen answered haughtily, "is more sacred than that of a white man. We have, like you, noble feelings, more so, perhaps, than others," he added, pointing to a red line that traversed his face; "we know how to forgive. You are free, and no one will disturb your retreat."
Nocobotha followed the thoughts of the bomberos on their faces. The latter felt themselves conquered by the magnanimity of the chief, who smiled triumphantly on divining their astonishment and confusion.
"My friend," he said to Pincheira, "let fresh horses be given to these men."
Pincheira hesitated.
"At once," he said, with a gesture full of supreme grace.
The Chilian, who was a semi-savage, yielding involuntarily to Nocobotha's superiority, obeyed, and five horses of great value, and ready saddled and bridled, were led up by two Indians.
"Chief," Pedrito said, in a slightly shaking voice, "I am not grateful for my life, as I do not fear death; but, in my brothers' names and my own, I thank