In Love With the Czarina, and Other Stories

VALDIVIA

Valdivia is the name of a Chilian province; also of the river which there pours down from the mountains into the plains: and likewise of a city which is remarkable for its architecturally constructed bamboo-bridge, and for the fact that every man you meet in the street is called Rocca, and prides himself on his ancestors having been the ancient rulers of Chili and walked about there barefooted. Now the inhabitants have degenerated into wearing boots and they talk Spanish. Even, however, after centuries of blood-mixture by intermarriage, the men of the nation are still peculiar for a certain kind of beard which grows very thin, whilst the women still possess somewhat bronzed complexions and a love of ornamenting their hair with long feathers and snake-skins. Although the male population retain a traditional fondness for slaughtering an enemy when they get fairly hold of him, they no longer, like their fathers, hunt the wild boar; this unfortunate animal, indeed, having long since been hunted out of existence. The noble Roccas, no longer occupied with the chase or war, have become merchants. One, Bria Rocca, is a great sugar-planter; another, Marco Rocca, owns a huge coal-mine; and a third, Alvarez Rocca, does a nice little business in the slave trade.

The Rocca is a fine, powerfully built man, six feet in height, whom one would not care to meet in a lonely road. The native woman is a handsome creature with beautiful eyes, whom one would be charmed to meet in a lonely road were it not that she is a little too quick in slapping one's face.

Descendants of a long kingly lineage, these people to-day go about the streets and along the banks of the river selling Spanish onions and little trinkets.

The town of Valdivia, situated on the river, had a widely different aspect three hundred years ago. At that time stood there the bamboo palace of Bria Rocca, whose faÇade rested upon two mighty bamboos resembling, in appearance, a couple of polished marble columns. The whole palace was built of this same wood. Its walls were curiously carved, and, but for its majestic dimensions, it might have reminded you of the toy palaces you build in childhood. Its doors and windows were made of interwoven tree branches, whilst its roof was thatched with agave leaves. In front of the palace was a balcony where Bria Rocca was accustomed to hold councils with the sages of his nation, and from this balcony two doors opened into the interior. One of them led into the apartment of Bria Rocca. It was an immense lofty room, and the ceilings were lined with jaguar skins, while the walls were covered with the skins of the black buffalo. Here and there hung axes and hatchets, arrows, specimens of the dreaded tomahawk, sundry warlike weapons of stone, and the deadly globe which, furnished with sharp teeth and hurled at an enemy, would not leave his body until it had torn out his heart. Finally, in a row, were ranged various trophies of victory, including a blood-stained helmet which the king had worn.

The other door led into the queen's apartment. It was finely painted with the dye obtained from the native indigo trees, whilst its ceilings were covered with curiously woven mats. There were two magnificent bedsteads in the room, remarkable for the beauty of their coverlets and still more for that of the curtains with which they were hung; for had not Queen Evoeva spun them with her own hand? It was no wonder that Bria Rocca had chosen her to be his wife; for what woman in the land could weave such gorgeous tapestry as she, or prepare such delicious cheese? It was said of her, moreover, that in the whole dominions there was no woman of such entrancing beauty, her eyes being ablaze with all the colours of the finest opal; and if she only threw one momentary glance through her long, dark eyelashes she could tame the fiercest tiger—and even man himself. Her figure was exceedingly beautiful, and when she danced before her husband she would gracefully curve her head backwards and downwards until she could kiss her own heel. Yet she was wonderfully powerful, and if she was suddenly attacked by a jaguar she would press the beast to her bosom until she had crushed it to death. One might, therefore, easily imagine how highly her embraces would be prized by a man whom she was really in love with, and what pleasures would lurk in one kiss from her sweet lips. Once, when the king had been poisoned in the shoulder by an arrow, she herself sucked the poison out. She was, consequently, very ill for a year afterwards, and the king, of course, thenceforward loved her more passionately than ever.

In the happy land of Chili the trees never cast their beautiful green leaves and the flowers never hide their heads in consequence of the cold. The bears do not betake themselves to slumber during the winter season; and the singing birds do not periodically fly away to a warmer climate. Summer, in this region, is only distinguished from winter by the fresh budding of the flowers, by the falling of cocoa-nuts from the trees; by a glittering appearance assumed by the stem of the hevea tree, which then sheds its juice in abundance; by the strewing of the ground with the nuts of the urcur tree, and by the flowers of the pao tree casting off their wool. There is no difference between the seasons but these, except that winter means a six weeks' spell of rain.

About that time a great fÊte is held in honour of the gods of the hevea, the urcur, and the pao, who have provided their chosen people with so many good things. On this occasion the inhabitants would cut open the bark of the hevea tree, from which would flow a white fluid which, when boiled by the fire of the urcur nut, was changed into a leathery solid, from which they manufactured all kinds of fancy articles in order to sell them to the surrounding countries, who, not knowing the secret of manufacture, were ready purchasers. On the day of the festival the male inhabitants would wash their skin with the sticky juice of the hevea, and then cover their bodies with the beautiful white wool which comes from the pao-tree, whereupon they painted themselves with gorgeous colours, and the whole covering looks as if it grew to their flesh. The women were not, however, permitted to practise this custom; they had to content themselves with ornamenting their necks with rows of coral, their ears with snake-pendants, and their waist with a girdle of long feathers.

When the flowers are beginning to open afresh, and the beautiful roses for which this land has so long been famous commence to re-expand, then the summer is approaching, and a fÊte is held in honour of the goddess Morinka. The morinka is a gigantic flower which, growing from the bottom of the lake, expands the petals of its flower on the surface. So huge is it that one single petal would suffice for the cradle of a child, while a single flower will perfume the entire neighbourhood far and wide.

At the time when the morinka commences to spread forth its beauty the inhabitants bring sacrifices to the goddess, who, if in a good temper and auspicious, causes the flower to expand freely and with great beauty. In this case there will be a splendid harvest; but if the flower is scanty and reluctant to open, then the goddess is angry—there will be dearth, drought, and plague, and a foreign foe will invade the land.

The home of the Aruacans was indeed a happy land. The gigantic walls of the Andes mountains surrounded it like a fortification, and the steep mountain clefts cut it off from its neighbours, whose curiosity, desire of conquest, and thirst for treasures made them long to explore its unknown regions. It would have been useless for them to build bridges across the tremendous waterfalls that tore up the mountain peaks; in vain would they have made tunnels through the massive mountains; in vain would they have constructed winding pathways over the ridges; a December rain would have destroyed all man's labour. If that were not sufficient to protect the country from invasion, the Andes mountains had four mighty forts in addition—whose names were Maypo, Peteroa, Chollan, and Antuco. They were volcanic mountains. If only one of these strongholds would have started the campaign against the conquerors there would have been an end to all toils of theirs; the roads would have been replaced by precipices, while the valleys would be covered with lava and icebergs; the plains would be concealed by avalanches dotted over them like soap-bubbles; the entire district, with its cliffs and waterfalls, would appear in a different light, as though in a huge kaleidoscope: towering hills would have taken the place of running waters in the mountain basin.

One day two hundred strangers appeared before Bria Rocca's town; peculiar looking people—such indeed as the good inhabitants had never yet beheld in their country. Straight to the Palace of Bria Rocca did the two hundred horsemen ride along, in presence of curious crowds and with sound of trumpet. Then the leader placed his soldiers in line, and a respectful message that he should allow them to pay him their respects was sent to the Cazcique. The leader's name was Valdivia, now for the first time pronounced in that territory. Did not the land of Chili tremble when she heard this name for the first time? Did not the river swell? Did not the volcanic mountains which had lain dormant for a long time burst out into violent eruption? No, oh no! They are deceived who imagine that the soil is mother of her people and that she feels and grieves over her sons' dangers. The soil is a coquette who delights in strangers, reveals her bosom to them, and to them as to others gives her bloom; she makes love to a new-comer and protects him from hostile attacks; on the graves of her old admirers does she grow him flowers.

Why should she not in the present instance? Were not the Spaniards stately men, superior to the ancient inhabitants? Their whole apparel was bright, and sparkled; the sun could see himself in their glittering buckles, the breeze found an attraction in their fluttering ribbons. And how much more intellectual were they than the old inhabitants! Why, they could actually hold communication by means of signs, and towards whatever direction they desired could shoot out fire by means of metal tubes; they could travel by ocean, and they knew those who lived beyond it; they could build high-towered palaces from stones, and from small threads they made delightful raiment; from seeds they prepared such savoury dishes! Why should not the land prefer them to her old inhabitants! Bria Rocca has already heard of the fame of those white fairies—rumour travels unaided—for now Pizarro had long conquered Peru, which is divided from Chili only by the snow-peaked Cordillera mountains. He accorded a warm reception to Valdivia; he conducted him to his palace, asked him to be seated on his finest bear-skin, and placed before him the best coca drinks in cocoa-nut shells. And no one could prepare them so well as Evoeva! Then Valdivia could talk the language of the Redskins; he acquired their tongue and primitive phrases and could talk as well as if he had been an Inca.

"Gentle Cazcique," he said to Bria Rocca, "brethren never come to visit you with strong and friendly arms. In one hand they hold glittering pearls and jewellery, which would gracefully adorn your women's necks, also fire-concealing liquor which exhilarates the sad ones and strengthens the feeble; it cools in hot weather, warms in cold. The other hand contains sharp iron which would cut your shields, and fire-throwing implements which aim from a distance! You can choose which one you please. We do not ask much of you, only give us that little hill you call Guelen, that we may build ourselves a shelter there, near the Matocko river. Consider your reply to my proposal."

Bria Rocca puffed thrice from his hookah, and while looking through its smoke, pondered what he should say.

"You remarked that you are white brethren and that you come with full arms; in the one hand carry presents, in the other guns. We are accustomed to catch monkeys in a similar manner; in one hand we hold fruit, in the other spears, and when the animal approaches for the fruit we hurl the spear at it. We desire not your presents—neither those from the right hand nor those from the left. Our women are pretty enough without your pearls, we are in good spirits without your liquors, and if you have more effective guns we have stronger arms; and if you present fire, we throw poison, which also brings death. If you wish for the Guelen mountain in exchange for your pearls and liquors you will not get it; if you ask it in return for sharp swords and fiery arrows, once more, you will not get it; but if you ask it nicely, you can have it gratis."

"What is the 'nice' phrase, gentle Cazcique?"

"That you will never do us any harm, that you will leave us in peace and not destroy our forests."

Valdivia promised the Cazcique that they would remain faithful brethren, and as a proof of eternal friendship they both drank water from the river Matocko out of a pumpkin-shell. They then broke the shell and divided its pieces as a token of the sealed friendship, the idea being that just as the pumpkin-shell could not be put together without mutual consent, so they themselves could not be happy the one without the other. They finally smoked the pipe of peace and parted company. Valdivia mounted his horse and his followers went away, leaving behind them a cask filled with the "drink of wisdom"—the phrase by which the Spaniards designated brandy when speaking of it to the Indians.

The Indian fathers asked Bria Rocca to divide the spirit amongst them, in order that they might all taste it and become as wise as the white people—"And such slaves as the Peruvians," thought Bria Rocca, though he did not say so. The spirit of the great Tao-tum had blessed him with the art of keeping judiciously silent. He poured out the spirit into a large tank and placed all the curious people around it, remarking that when he gave the signal they should bend down and drink to their hearts' contents. Bria Rocca then lit a long camphor laurel switch, which burned with a white flame, and twirled it round his head, thereafter dipping it into the tank. Hardly had the burning shoot touched the tank's contents when, in a moment, they became ignited, and the wonderful white transparent liquid began to burn with a pale blue flame from every part of the vessel's surface. The Indians recoiled in terror from this strange phenomenon, but Bria Rocca thrust his switch into the flaming fluid, and the blazing drops were spurted over their naked bodies like a shower of fire-sparks. He then grasped the edge of the tank and poured out from it the flaming liquid, which followed the Indians as they retreated. Even those of them who managed to escape carried on their heels some flames, and a certain amount they dropped at each step they took. The good people asked no more to taste the wise men's spirit, and the Spanish calabasse did not have the same destroying charm over them as it did over their copper-coloured brethren.

In the Tlenoch legendary lore there was a strange and ancient tradition, originated long before the Spaniards set foot on that soil. According to one legend the Queczalcot gnome had appeared hundreds and hundreds of years before in South America; its face was white, with a beard and moustache, and it taught the people what herbs to eat, also chronology, the use of copper, and the building of houses. The gnome remained there for a century, spreading happiness all over the country. Then it disappeared across the sea, towards the east, promising to return hundreds of years thereafter, when it would teach much more. Well! the legend has just been fulfilled. The blessed white-faced, black-bearded descendants of Queczalcot have come, and have brought many nice things. In the rich Aztec province of Tlenoch this teaching was very easy; the Aztec tribe were already an extremely submissive people; they knew already the value of gold and apparel; they had their own fashions and a rich capital, which overlooked on one side a salt-water, and on the other, a fresh-water, lake. Around the earth were built houses, pyramids, and sacrificial teocallis, where at holiday time hundreds and hundreds of their chosen men are sacrificed to their bloodthirsty gods. Gold and men's lives were of small value, but pleasures were expensive. No wonder, therefore, that the Spaniards taught them so quickly how to appreciate their imported pleasures. But in Chili the gold was still under the soil; the people were treading upon it, not it upon them. Their hatred of foreigners existed from time immemorial, and also the desire to preserve their ancient customs, which they worshipped. So the Spaniards found them very bad pupils, their alluring words were not appreciated by the old ones; their presents were not esteemed by the young; the women's eyes refused to rest upon them. These people could be subdued by bold and daring means only.

Valdivia gave wonderful presents to Bria Rocca for the Guelen mountain—a fully caparisoned horse, a kingly present and one worthy of acceptance being amongst the number. Cazcique could not refuse such a gift, and after having learnt to ride was pleased to know how he looked on horseback. At that time the proper use of the noble horse was unknown to the Indians. Valdivia had calculated well. As soon as Bria Rocca became possessed of his horse he rode about for several weeks upon the Salt Plains, and employed his time in pursuing herds of musk-ox in the high and luxuriant prairie grass, never dreaming that the Spaniards were building a fort on the top of Mount Guelen. When the Morinka fÊte was about to be held, Bria Rocca, according to established custom, ordered every man to retire from the scene; the Morinka fÊte was for women only, and no man's eye was allowed to witness it. On such occasions the people would retire to the forests to hunt; in town none were left but children and old women; the young married women and maidens were at the Morinka lake, and nobody was allowed to disturb them. Let that man beware who would dare to set eyes on this fÊte! He would carry the sentence of death upon his face. Although he should hide in forest after forest yet would he be traced out and killed for presuming to invade the Morinka fÊte. The heavenly flower morinka is herself goddess amongst flowers; a most peculiar plant is she; eleven months of the year she reposes under water, twelve feet beneath the surface. During this time she has no actual existence. When her birthday arrives, which it never fails to do, for it falls at that precise date when the day is longest and the night shortest, all of a sudden the lake gets covered with brown and orange-coloured bubbles a span long, which float on the surface like many small boats. One day later the bubbles will burst open, and the knotted membranes will expand, enormous cup-shaped leaves coming out, whose inside is painted a pale carmine colour, which glitters on the rich and fleshy fibres of the leaves like the inside of an autumn peach. Its light green netted veins turn to a bright gold as they approach the stamens, the leaves begin to develop with astonishing rapidity, and spread on the water's surface like round tables. The pale carmine enamel changes into a mild green colour, and the veins that from yellow and lily colour have become carmine in netted form divide it up into 1000 squares. The tremendous leaves grow and extend with visible rapidity; some of them are a fathom in width. Thus they cover the Morinka lake with a wonderfully rich carpet, over which, indeed, one may walk to and fro. The wide leaf may bend, but it will not become filled with water under the tread. A man's weight is no more to it than is a butterfly's to an ordinary flower. Ten days afterwards the buds—their huge closed cups as large as a child's head—burst from under the leaf, resting sideways owing to its weight. The outer leaves, which are white and netted, are as large as melon slices; two days afterwards they have changed to a pink colour, and on the night of the fourth day they burst. The flower does not bend any more, but stands straight.

As the cup bursts open many white petals appear from the light pink calyx. An indescribably sweet perfume spreads all over the district; and so intoxicatingly delicious a sensation does it produce upon those who have inhaled its pure and virgin fragrance that a woman forgets she is a woman and imagines herself a fairy. On the fifth and sixth days the flower opens quite, and one petal after another develops; on the seventh day it appears in its fullest glory.

The petals have snow-white branches, coloured deep red; their centre is of a rich gold colour, containing thousands of thready moulds. The length of the calyx is then from three to four spans. The Morinka fÊte takes place on the night when the flower opens. It is held at new moon, under a dull sky; for so sensitive to light are the petals of our fairy plant that with the moon's light even they open but half-way; when the sun shines they shrink together again; but the stars' cold glitter is very dear to them, as also are those star mimics which are visible from afar, and whose virgin brilliancy does not affect the picturesque senses, I mean the fire-fly.[4]

[4] By the most serious people of serious Europe, this plant has been named "the Queen." Victoria Regina is the name by which it is called. It is to be found in royal collections only.

When the flowers begin to burst open millions of fire-flies appear by the lake—attracted perhaps, by the perfume; possibly they are born with the flower, so that each may be fated to take delight in the other. Now the tremendous calyx, with a light green colour like diamond glitter, bends to and fro. Nature's artistic hand has ornamented its crown with precious stones, for thousands of dewdrops, those stars of floral creation, are glittering from the petals, while the fire-flies are continually flitting from one leaf to another, thus forming a fairy-like walk; on the majestic flower glistens the sovereign fire-fly, the magnificent avra, the lenten insect, on whose glittering colours the petal shades are thrown. The night is moonless, but rich in stars; the surface of the Morinka lake is covered with a green leaf carpet, on which many little stars are shining as if in heaven above. The dense banana grove that surrounds the enchanting lake gives it the appearance of a temple encircled by thousands of green columns. And the surface of the lake forms a magnificent altar, whence, from the gigantic calyx, the most delicate sacrifice, the most delightful odour, rises to heaven. By the sides of the lake, on a grassy plot, the Indian women solemnise the sacrificial rites. Thousands of the most beautiful virgins and childless women, placed in three circles, dance about and sing praises to the Great Spirit who brought forward the budding season of the water-flowers, and who awakes the feeling of the slumbering heart. Whoever saw them from a distance would imagine them to be fairy circles. Each woman had a chain of glittering gems round her neck. These in fact consisted of many hundred Brazilian insects, which the Indian women strung upon thread and used as neck-ornaments. The colours of the insects were continually changing from green and marigold to a ruby hue, and vice versÂ, and surpassed in brilliancy the most precious stones.

In the midst of the circle stood Queen Evoeva. She was distinguished by her wearing three insect chains on her neck. Round her waist, too, was arranged a broad girdle, ornamented with many dazzling insects; their light was not, however, sufficiently great to allow one to see the shadow cast by this charming woman. In her dark hair there glittered a splendid "lampyris," whose moon-shaped light was thrown upon the lovely creature's face, to which it imparted a pale serenity.

Could one have seen those women one would have imagined they were fairies. But who would have presumed to approach them? Would not the Great Spirit have been enraged at the breaking of a divine command?

Indeed an Indian would not have dared to do this, even were he an enemy. A Spaniard, however, does it, though a friend.All of a sudden wild noises of men were heard in the banana groves; the women, frightened, rushed into one group. "Men, it seems," cried they, "have broken into the Holy Grove on the eve of the Morinka fÊte." It was Valdivia with one hundred and fifty of his comrades. When Queen Evoeva recognised the Spaniards she stepped forward with stately tread, and boldly asked Valdivia how they dared appear on the sacred ground while the Morinka fÊte was being held, and when every man was required to keep at a respectful distance. Valdivia's reply was to embrace the queen's beautiful form, and to implant a kiss upon her cheek, burning with fury. "Ah!" shouted the Indians, "our queen has been kissed by a strange man—a kiss has reached her lip on the eve of Morinka! The kiss of a strange man!" The Indian women madly attacked Valdivia and his comrades and began a severe struggle for her majesty. Here, then, was a conflict between feeble, naked women, unarmed, and strong mailed men. With nails and teeth did the former fight, like wild beasts, considering but little the wounds which they themselves received. The Spaniards were obliged to have recourse to arms against those enraged attacking ones, and before long red streams were flowing towards the Morinka lake—streams of women's blood. But Evoeva was freed from Valdivia's grasp, and one moment gave her time to jump into the lake, whose surface was covered with huge nymphean leaves. These clod themselves upon her and did not part asunder again. Hundreds upon hundreds of women followed the queen's example, throwing themselves into the lake to escape their pursuers. The Spaniards saw none rise to the surface; the nymphic leaves floated there as before. But the women swam under the smooth leaf-carpet to the river's mouth; the river emptied itself into the lake, and farther up formed a waterfall ten fathoms in height; across this the women proceeded. Those only escaped who were neither dashed by the rocks nor suffocated by the waterfall.

Bria Rocca was until late evening pursuing a jaguar—which he contrived to reach and kill—on the wild plains. It was nightfall when he returned with his men and reached the banks of the Mapocho river, where they encamped.

Bria Rocca led his horse to the river to drink. The noble animal had been moving about quickly the whole day and was very thirsty; but as soon as it bent its head towards the water it retreated and galloped to its master, shaking all over; then, tossing its mane from side to side, it broke into a violent snorting. The king thought that the horse had smelt an alligator in the stream, and conducted it to another part; but she manifested the old signs of aversion. "There is blood in the water, Bria Rocca, woman's blood; your horse dreads it, and that is why he refuses to drink." It was now midnight, but still a light seemed to shine from the forest. "Look how soon it gets light now!" said the Indians, awaking from their dreams. "It is not daybreak, nor is it the flames of a burning forest." The king's town was in flames, and beneath that spot where the sky seemed brightest blazed the royal palace. The strangers had set it on fire! Towards daybreak there was great commotion in the grove. At first a few crying children rushed thither and awoke the slumbering camp. These informed his majesty that the white strangers had disturbed their dreams and made fire on the roofs of their homes, and that those who could not run away were slain. Then came other messengers to Bria Rocca, and the heads of slaughtered women and children could be seen floating down the river. These could not speak to the king, but sufficient could be gathered from their silent communication.

Bria Rocca stood on the river bank, resting on his axe and looking at the floating human remains. All around the following raving noise was heard, "It is all up with Matocka town; the dreaded of the Guelen mountain have by stealth broken into it and bombarded it with metal dragons; they have killed the children, carried away the women, and burnt down the king's palace."

The King himself replied quickly, "If the Great Spirit desires that Bria Rocca should bathe his feet in blood, and should warm himself at his town's flame, Bria Rocca is silent and refrains from shedding tears."

The old people told his majesty that the white men from the Papua and Omagua tribes had secretly collected in force in the Guelen mountain, and during the Morinka fÊte, when all had withdrawn to the forest, had attacked every village of Bria Rocca and destroyed them; and that Valdivia was proclaimed master of the country. The King quietly replied, "If the Great Spirit desires that Bria Rocca's people should leave their kingdom, Bria Rocca refrains from shedding tears."

Lastly, there became visible on the Mapocko river rush-boats, on which the women who had escaped, with their tiny children—many of whom, that possibly life might again appear, were still pressed to their mother's breasts, dead from the strokes of the enemy—lay terror-stricken and furious.

Now approached the king's wife, the beautiful Evoeva. Her black hair hung loosely over her face in order that her shame might be covered. The women grasped Bria Rocca's hand with great fury, pointing to Evoeva.

"Look," said they, "here is your wife; her cheeks were kissed by a strange man."

Bria Rocca's lips paled, and every vein on his temples became swollen; yet the war-lance did not move in his hand. He resignedly answered the women, "If the Great Spirit desires that I shall not behold Evoeva any more Bria Rocca is content and never will look at her again."

Whilst saying these words he covered with a skin the wife who knelt at his feet, and turned away from her. The Indians seized their arms and, beating upon their shields, vowed vengeance upon the strangers. Bria Rocca approached them softly, and said:

"Let your arms rest; this day we have lost, let our enemies gain it; it is to-day the fight of kings against beggars whose lances are weak as straw. Let them have happiness, splendid towns, fine women and children, and abundance of earthly treasure. At present they have nothing to give us in return for this evening's gift. Let us wait until they have."

Ten years have elapsed since Bria Rocca's palace was burnt, and since then many changes have taken place in Chili. Valdivia has occupied Chili in the name of Pizarro; then he goes over to the king's side and helps to overthrow Pizarro, and as a reward receives the Viceroyalty of Chili. A portion of the province which he had first conquered was named Valdivia, and also that river from which Bria Rocca's horse refused to drink. The splendid city too, which was built on the site of the ancient bamboo town of Bria Rocca, was named Valdivia. This Valdivia gave quite a different appearance to the whole district. Stone-made roads, constructed by European adventurers, were laid, and from town to town people have ploughed and gathered in the earth's produce, and have exposed the precious metal of the mountains, just as if they were really quite at home. Nobody has disturbed them in their work; the copper-coloured persons have disappeared, not a sound of them can be heard in the forest, nor a trace of their footsteps observed on the ground—like a crowd of grasshoppers before a seven-days' rain have they become entirely destroyed.

Perhaps they have gone up to the mountains or into the wastes of the interior, where the Golden Land has already sprung into existence, and concerning which so many wonderful stories have been related to adventurous Spaniards about the monks CabeÇa de Vaca and NiÇa: where wild people were walking about in civilised clothing, where the towns were laid out with emerald and turquoise, and whose fort Cibolla was ten miles long.

Some people who tried to find out this remarkable land, never returned from it. In the time of Valdivia the Spanish imagination became excited about this El Dorado. If any wondered how Bria Rocca's people disappeared, without leaving a trace behind them, they could console themselves with the fact that they were now very happy, and that they had gone in search of brethren to Cibolla town, where they were now wallowing in milk and honey. Although they wondered why they could not follow the Indians, the Spaniards now quietly settled in Chili; they have ceased to dig trenches round the town, and to post guards along the roads; they no longer teach their bloodhounds to scent out the two-footed wild animal; there is peace and tranquillity in the whole country. The merchants count out their money and the great lords lavishly spend it; pretty women walk about in silks, and little children ride on their fathers' knees. Yes, yes! the Spaniards have everything—riches, happiness, and splendid towns, also beautiful women and tiny, chattering offspring. ....

"Let us wait until they can repay us," said Bria Rocca.

A new lake would be found, and the waterfalls would have cut for themselves new passages. Still, Bria Rocca's people have taken refuge there with their herds and flocks, whilst the eager searchers for El Dorado have failed to discover the way to fairyland. The Chilian volcano has rested for a hundred years, and only a few craters have shown from a distance that he too was one of those gigantic bombarders of the heavens who now rests conquered. But perhaps he sleeps merely—such great beings dream long. Whilst, then, he is thus dreaming, the Southern voluptuous plants have entwined themselves round about him, and every kind of grass and tree derives nourishment from his presence; at his foot a forest of red cedar has formed, and on his head tamarisk bushes live and flourish. From the autumn greenery which covers the mountain, dark caverns peep out. These are the mouths of ancient lava-streams by which one might get at the mountain's heart. According to the stories of the Omagua tribes, it was through such that the Aruacans made their way to the Cordillera interior. There were always a few adventurers who attempted to penetrate these caverns in search of the Golden Land, but they, as a rule, never returned, and nobody troubled about them. Once, however, two monks, accompanied by an Indian who understood the language, left Sant-Jago in search of this mysterious country. Had all three disappeared, no one would have made much ado; but it so happened that the Indian returned soon afterwards without the monks. He was interrogated on the subject, but he merely said that his comrades had perished—in what way he declined to tell. He had sworn by the great teeth of Mahu-Mahu that he never should divulge the secret. Valdivia had him placed on the bench of torture, and it appears that he felt the thumb-screwing instruments, and boiling oil had greater effect upon him than the big teeth of Mahu-Mahu, and so he promised to disclose everything. According to his story he and his comrades, after they had provided themselves with torchlights, entered the Chillon cavern, where, after proceeding a few hundred yards, they discovered on the moist soil the footprints of Aruacans. They knew them to be theirs, for they were marked by india-rubber heels, worn as a rule by the Aruacans to protect them from serpents. As they advanced further the cavern got wider in extent, and from its steep sides great rocks stood out. The descent, which became steeper and steeper as they advanced, was crossed by a stream that one could hear but not see from the cavern's mouth. Over this stream a bamboo suspension bridge become visible later on, similar to that which the Aruacans had erected over the Matocka river.

The volcanic footpaths got more and more difficult to tread upon, and at times he and his companions were obliged to climb upon the rocks, as if they were trying to ascend a mountain.

Finally the opening became so narrow that two men could hardly walk through it, and there they reached a spot that seemed hollowed out beneath. They advanced further when the earth gave way, and they all fell down to the cavern depths. It was a trap from which there was no escape. After they had for a few hours vainly endeavoured to rise from this pitfall, they suddenly heard sounds of voices, and—recognised the Aruacans. They recognised them from the wool which covered their bodies. The Indians pulled them up with long ropes, blindfolded them, and bound their hands behind their backs, driving them on between two tough trees. Ere long the echo from the narrow passage ceased, and the atmosphere revealed to them that they were in the open air. When their eyes were unfolded they saw they were in the Chillon crater. It was a dreadful smoking valley, with a funnel-like descent, whose sides were then just as bare as when the last eruption had taken place.

All around there were red-brown stone piles, quite burnt out—dead for ever—on which no plant could live. Not even a piece of moss or of lichen was to be seen upon them.

Lower down the valley got compressed, and on its sides numberless small holes, like wasps' nests, were visible. Neither grass nor flower could be observed anywhere—nothing of that kind, indeed, but a few pale green trees scattered about at intervals. These were upas-trees, in the poison of whose sap the Indians dip their spears. Every surrounding plant had been killed by their exhalations, so that they alone grew in the valley.

On the sides of this dreadful valley a wide, hollow border was to be seen; it represented the last active volcano; in appearance it resembled the gallery of a great amphitheatre. On this gallery stood the Aruacan fathers with Bria Rocca. Under it was formed a sort of semicircle, where many large china jugs might be seen placed near one another, whose mouths were for the most part covered with india-rubber; some were open. As the captives were brought before Bria Rocca two such jugs were procured, and the two monks, tied to a couple of columns, were then killed with two long axes, similar to those with which the Aruacans cut the hevea-trees. Their blood poured out into the jugs; their bodies were thrown down the precipice. After this the Indians carried away the jugs with the blood and placed them near the others. Soon thereafter numerous serpents peeped out of holes in the walls: in appearance they were like cigars. A traveller who does not know this serpent might be deceived, and, imagining it a cigar, pick it up—which would mean death. One bite from this serpent is fatal. These dreaded reptiles crept in thousands into the jugs in which the murdered Spaniards' blood had been placed, and when they filled them two Indians approached and carefully put two india-rubber covers over them, so as to prevent their exit.

They meant at first to kill the priest's dusky guide, but Bria Rocca said that black blood was useless, and they let him go. But he had to swear by the great Mahu Mahu that he should not tell a soul what he had seen; if he did tell, the Aruacans would come for him in tens of thousands, and they would not be particular as to who was white and who black. So they let him go through the same way as he and the monks came in, and he could not say how he got out of the crater.

Of course, nobody believed a word of the Indian's story, and they believed that he himself killed the monks and invented a fable. It was all a tissue of lies, they thought, and the unfortunate man was pinned to a stake outside Sant-Jago.

The Indian's story had long been forgotten in Chili. Valdivia returned with glory and overwhelmed with distinction from Peru, and settled down to live peacefully in the town which bore his name. He dispersed his troops amongst the various towns and settlements, and he had hardly more than three hundred soldiers left with him. These, moreover, got out of practice, as they seldom had occasion to handle the gun.

All of a sudden, on a still and quiet night, a wild noise awoke the peaceful inhabitants of Valdivia. Frantic shouting came from the surrounding hills, and all around the farm-buildings were set on fire; the faces of hundreds of people were distinguished by the flames. "The Aruacans have returned!" were the words, distractedly uttered, that sounded through the town, and that also reached Valdivia's palace. Yes, the Aruacans have returned—to ask for an explanation regarding the presumption of building a town over the graves of their ancestors; and Bria Rocca was there to inquire who it was that killed thousands of his subjects, and also who it was that kissed the cheek of Evoeva. The attack was so sudden and unexpected that there was no time to report the great danger to the adjoining town; and before Valdivia had time to draw his sword all the hills surrounding the town were occupied by thousands of the Red Indians. There was only one outlet from the town through which the Spaniards might have escaped, and it seemed as if the Indians had purposely left that unguarded. The Spaniards were not, however, to be led into a trap, rightly thinking that it would have been folly to throw themselves upon thousands of wild and enraged Indians, who would have despatched them with their poisonous spears; they, therefore, drew up their guns on the fortification walls. How, possibly, can the simple arrows of the Indians compete with such weapons?

The Indians occupied all the adjoining hills, and had they had guns in their possession they could very easily have fired into the town.

Valdivia's men looked quietly down from the rampart walls, for they observed that the Indians had no storming engines with which they might attack the stronghold.

Bria Rocca's tent was erected on a hill concealed from view by huge cocoa-palms, from which Valdivia's palace could be seen. At the Indian chief's command the brown leaves of eight trees were pulled down, and the trunks of the trees were cut open to the extent of several feet in width; then were tied to their tops long ropes of sap-wood, the other end of the ropes being twisted round a potter's wheel which was made to turn by means of long rods. Under the influence of these ropes the trees got quite bent and their tops touched the ground. Then the Indians placed some strange-looking vessels into the hollows of the trunks; the mouths of these vessels were covered over with india-rubber. Bria Rocca next pulled his axe from his belt and cut the ropes in twain. The palm trunks flew up with great force, and with a tremendous noise the jugs that had been placed in the tree-hollows shot into the market-place of Valdivia. Each tree discharged its dangerous bombs as did the others. Oh, what a curse those bombs proved! Thousands upon thousands of poisonous serpents escaped from the broken jugs and, maddened by white man's blood, rushed at the people in every direction. Guns were of no avail when dealing with these cursed little monsters. The bloodthirsty, devil-moved insects crept up the legs of the horses, and getting beneath the armour killed their riders. They swarmed all over the streets and streamed into the houses, killing the women and children and those who could not fly from them. In one hour's time Valdivia had more dead than fighting men. Valdivia himself became desperate and mounted his horse, and, accompanied by a hundred horsemen, proceeded towards the gate leading to Sant-Jago, that gate which the Indians had left unguarded. He heard the triumphant shouts of the Indians and saw before him the ancient forest shooting out flames in hundreds of directions. He was surrounded! The enraged Indians followed him up behind, and in front the burning forest cut off the means of escape. His companions rode away in alarm; they preferred to die fighting, not in this manner. Valdivia thought it best to boldly cut his way through the burning forest, and so effect his escape—or perish in the attempt. The Indians pursued him to the edge of the forest, but seeing how boldly he galloped through the flames they nearly all held back there. One man only attempted to pursue him further—namely, Bria Rocca. The Spanish horses on which both were mounted did not fear the fire. Burning foliage fell over them and little embers glowed under their feet; still the two horses wildly plunged forward, step for step. Valdivia did not even look back, and he did not, therefore, observe the Indian chief when he threw a long harpoon spear at him. This spear entered his body, and when it was pulled out the heart came away along with it.

The spot on which Valdivia stood was strewn with the charred ruins of the burned town, and there—on that gloomy space—Bria Rocca, after ten years' mourning, held a feast in honour of the injured Goddess Morinka. He sent for his wife Evoeva, whom he had thrust away from him, and upon whose countenance he had not gazed for ten years; and when he had embraced her he presented her with a tambourine and a flute of bone, as well as a cup filled with native wine. Then he said: "This is a day of great rejoicing, Evoeva. To-day you must sing, drink and dance. Strike upon this tambourine, blow the flute, empty the cup—the tambourine is made from Valdivia's skin, the flute is his bone, the cup his head."

Up to the present day the Aruacan's country has remained unconquered.

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