Chapter 10

X

"AFTER this--as he called it--act of justice, Ruiz crossed the Rio
Blanco, followed by the greater part of his band, and entrenched
himself upon a hill A company of regular troops sent out foolishly
against him was surrounded, and destroyed almost to a man. Other
expeditions, though better organised, were equally unsuccessful.

"It was during these sanguinary skirmishes that his wife first began
to appear on horseback at his right hand. Rendered proud and self-
confident by his successes, Ruiz no longer charged at the head of his
partida, but presumptuously, like a general directing the movements of
an army, he remained in the rear, well mounted and motionless on an
eminence, sending out his orders. She was seen repeatedly at his side,
and for a long time was mistaken for a man. There was much talk then
of a mysterious white-faced chief, to whom the defeats of our troops
were ascribed. She rode like an Indian woman, astride, wearing a
broad-rimmed man's hat and a dark poncho. Afterwards, in the day of
their greatest prosperity, this poncho was embroidered in gold, and
she wore then, also, the sword of poor Don Antonio de Leyva. This
veteran Chilean officer, having the misfortune to be surrounded with
his small force, and running short of ammunition, found his death at
the hands of the Arauco Indians, the allies and auxiliaries of Gaspar
Ruiz. This was the fatal affair long remembered afterwards as the
'Massacre of the Island.' The sword of the unhappy officer was
presented to her by Peneleo, the Araucanian chief; for these Indians,
struck by her aspect, the deathly pallor of her face, which no
exposure to the weather seemed to affect, and her calm indifference
under fire, looked upon her as a supernatural being, or at least as a
witch. By this superstition the prestige and authority of Gaspar Ruiz
amongst these ignorant people were greatly augmented. She must have
savoured her vengeance to the full on that day when she buckled on the
sword of Don Antonio de Leyva. It never left her side, unless she put
on her woman's clothes--not that she would or could ever use it, but
she loved to feel it beating upon her thigh as a perpetual reminder
and symbol of the dishonour to the arms of the Republic. She was
insatiable. Moreover, on the path she had led Gaspar Ruiz upon, there
is no stopping. Escaped prisoners--and they were not many--used to
relate how with a few whispered words she could change the expression
of his face and revive his flagging animosity. They told how after
every skirmish, after every raid, after every successful action, he
would ride up to her and look into her face. Its haughty-calm was
never relaxed. Her embrace, senores, must have been as cold as the
embrace of a