It was unusual for a woman to be seen outside after dark. In the days of his grandfather the Indians were so strict in matters of this kind they had decreed nothing less than death to those found wandering about the tolderia after dark.

Rosaria raised her finger to her lips. "I want to have a little talk with you."

"About what, Mother?"

"What your father talked about."

"You know that?"

"I think so, Zepherin. He wants his people to learn those secrets of the huinca which make them great and powerful. Otherwise, he says, our people will die out and be forgotten."

"Is that not good?"

"Of course it is good."

"Then why are you so upset?"

"It is about something else I am upset, some other plan your father hides so deep in his heart he thinks no one knows it. But he cannot hide it from me."

"Can you tell me what that plan is, Mother?"

"I fear some dangerous schemes are forming in his mind such as organizing the Indians again."

"What for?"

"To chase the huincas out of what he still calls Indian territory, or forcing the government to grant him more privileges, better conditions . . . "

"Is that bad, Mother?"

"It is impossible. But your father will tell you that nothing is impossible to the Cura. Besides, it would bring back all the horrors of war. You are too young to remember what the huincas and the Indians did to each other. You have only heard your father's side."

Rosaria took hold of her son's arm. "Sit down with me for a while, "she said gently. "There are many things that you should know. I have waited a long time but since the cacique has been talking to you I think that I should tell them to you now."

Obediently Zepherin squatted beside his mother. Rosaria's eyes rested on him for a moment before she went on.

"Take the malones your father is so proud of. There is another side to these, one you never heard." Raising her head she gazed up at the moon and began to speak, and it was as if everything she said was written on the moon's face.

"I remember the first time Manuel told me to accompany him on a malon. His oldest wife wakened me very early that morning to prepare for it. Warriors from other tolderias came to join us. I was glad of the excitement for it took my mind off what I dreaded was to come. That night the cacique announced that there would be a celebration to placate Gualichu, the evil spirit, so that he would not interfere with the malon.

"The next morning we set out. Ahead rode the warriors, carrying their tall spears held high and the colored pennants of their tribes. In front rode Manuel, and the other caciques. Behind them followed the families and spare horses. On each horse rode a warrior's wife and children; other horses carried the things we needed for keeping house along the trail.

"We rode until late in the afternoon when the cacique called a halt. I was surprised that we set up camp so early but more surprised still when we broke camp and rode all through the night, holding tightly to the children so they wouldn't fall of the horses in sleep. When it was still a few hours from daybreak, the cacique again called a halt, and held a council of war. Immediately after that, the warriors rode off, this time at great speed intending to attack at down. We tried to keep up with them but soon we could no longer hear the sound of the horses' and all we could see was a huge cloud of dust.

"We hurried to keep as close as possible, but it must have been hours later when we reached the first settlement. It had two long huts of adobe walls, barns and outhouses. To the left lay a large corral with a high wooden fence. By the time we got there the fence had already been broken down and our warriors had driven off the horses and cattle. Smoke was rising out of the roofs, both the doors and windows of the huts had been smashed open, and hung like broken limbs. In front of one of the hunt lay the bodies of two men and a boy. There was no sign of any other living creature, for the women and children had already been dragged off to captivity.

"The others got down from their horses and went inside the buildings. But I couldn't move until my companion forced me to dismount. I hurried over to the bodies hoping to help them and perhaps save their lives. My companion screamed at me, `First the house, then the bodies!' So I went inside with the others. The first things they rushed for were the cupboards and drawers full of clothing and other belongings. My companion kept screaming at me to hurry like the rest and claim my share. It would have been funny to watch the women try on their fat ugly figures the huinca clothes, but I could not forget . . . I made up a bundle of clothing and articles and brought it back to our horses. I wanted to stop for we had collected more than our horses could carry, but my companion shouted at me to follow her. While the women had been looting, the children had been searching the pockets of the dead. One child -- she could not have been more than six or seven -- lifted up the bloodstained jacket of a corpse, put her fingers into the trouser pocket and took out a coin. She wiped it clean of blood on the lapel of the man's jacket, then put it in the pocket of her apron. I turned away to vomit. After that no matter how often I went on the malones, I could never touch a corpse . . . Are you listening, Zepherin?"

"I am listening."

"Aren't you moved even slightly by all this suffering and horror?"

"They took our land; we took their things. They killed our people; we killed them."

Rosaria turned to stare at her son. She took his hand in her own and crushed it between her palms. She was pleading now.

"Your father often tells you how cruel and unjust the huincas were to our people," she went on. "They were cruel and they were unjust. But has he ever told you what the Indians did to the huincas? To their children? To their defenseless women?"

"They did those things to take revenge."

"On defenseless women? They never did anyone any harm. Yet do you know what our warriors did to those poor creatures? Let me tell you about one woman I know who suffered because she was torn away from her home and her loved ones."

"It is a long time now since this woman had her first taste of those horrors. In the early years they would haunt her every time she was left alone. Later they came back to her only in nightmares, or during the winter nights when she had to go to bed hungry.

"She remembers people singing and dancing and looking down admiringly at her lovely white dress. She remembers a soft kiss, a white pillow, and the woman whispering, `Goodnight, beautiful!' And the last sounds she heard before falling asleep were the growling of the watchdogs or the soft clucking of the fowl.

"The next instant the night exploded. The dogs were barking furiously, screams of terror rose above the whinnying of horses and the thunder of hoofs. She leaped from her bed and ran out of the door to the rear for what seemed to quickest way of escape. She had barely reached the outside when a hand seized the top of her nightgown and long fingers scraped the skin off her neck. Someone rushed up to protect her but she remembered seeing a bola strike his forehead. An arm snatched her up; struggling and kicking, she was thrown across the back of a horse and held so tightly by someone smelling of grease and sweat that she could hardly breathe. She kept praying for death, for some sort of oblivion that would never let her wake up again, that would blot out everything that was happening to her.

"After a long wild ride across the pampas there was feasting at the tolderia but she shared little in it. Terror had frozen her body into a solid ball. More than one drunken Indian came to her where she lay huddled in the corner of the toldo, attempting to take her to him. One of the women, taking pity on her, threw a guanaco skin over her shivering, half-naked body. During the days that followed the orgies, she was shamed in many ways. At night the pain of her experiences kept her awake until she cried herself to sleep, praying and wondering if she would ever be forgiven.

"At first she did not know there was another captive in the toldo. But once they recognized each other they found ways of communicating the idea that lay uppermost in their minds -- escape. Their plan was simple: Collect enough food for the journey and head westward in the direction of their homes.

One night she left the toldo without raising suspicion. Silently she made her way to the western end of the tolderia and waited until she saw the other woman coming out of the shadows. After a hurried embrace to give each other courage, they started out.

"In the beginning they kept to the beaten path. Either this path ended nowhere or else they strayed from it in the dark, but they found themselves walking sometimes on flat ground, sometimes on scrub that made walking painful. Completely exhausted, they huddled together in a sandhole for the night.

"The next morning before sunrise they started off again. Their courage began to fail for they could see nothing but a treeless plain, broken only by wide stretches of scrub. But to the west lay the dim silhouettes of the mountains of Chile and -- home!

"She cannot remember all the details of that day but she can still recall their fright at the sight of the vultures that followed them. She can still see the back of the puma that stalked them in the long grass. Heaps of bones lay bleaching in the sun. Once they stumbled on a heap of human bones, neither woman daring to express her fears to the other. It was then that they sighted for the first time a tiny cloud of dust. As it grew nearer they new it could mean but one thing and they hurried on. But they might as well have tried to outrace the sun. Soon they were surrounded by a group of Indians who laughed at them, hoisted them on their horses and rode back to the tolderia.

"She looked on with horror as they stretched her companion, naked, on the floor of the toldo and started to peel off the soles of her feet until they were raw and bleeding. The woman screamed and screamed until she fainted. When it was over they dragged her to a corner of the toldo and threw a rug over her. Then they turned to herself. The knife sliced the skin at the heel and when they began to pull away the skin the terrible pain made her scream, too . . . The last thing she remembers was hearing the sound of men's voices, then the toldo flap was flung open and the cacique himself burst in!"

That night, she recalled, Manuel, attracted by her appearance had exercised his right as cacique to take his pick of the captives. HE had always confessed that he preferred white women, and Rosaria's graceful body, smooth skin and lovely dark eyes had made her desirable. There had been little choice for her in the mater. Manuel told her how the vast pampas formed a better prison than any four walls. Escapees were always caught and brought back or else were slain by the wild animals that lurked in the tall grace. The vultures did the rest.

Rosaria's breathing had become so labored she could not go on.

Zepherin looked at her in surprise. "Mother," he said, "you talk as if you had been that woman!" Rosaria returned his look but did not speak.

Zepherin's eyes opened wider. "Why don't you go on, Mother?"

His own breathing was now coming faster.

The silence became unbearable and he could stand it no longer. "Mother," he burst out. "Are you trying to tell me that you . . . ?" A pause, then, "No!"

Rosaria nodded her head slowly. "Yes, my son. I am that woman."

"You? A huinca?"

"Yes. And that means that you -- "

Zepherin bounded to his feet in horror. "No! No!" he gasped.

"Then you are not my son?"

"Your son, yes! But huinca, no! I shall never be a huinca. Never! I am an Araucano. Not a huinca. Araucano. I hate the huincas because of what they have done to my people."

"But, my son --"

"I don't want to listen! I won't listen! I am not a huinca. No part of me is huinca. I Hate huincas! I hate them!" With that, he wheeled round and rushed off into the darkness leaving Rosaria in tears.

When he had recovered from his emotional outburst, Zepherin returned to the tolderia to find his mother gone.

Entering without a sound, he stepped across the half-naked sleeping bodies and as about to lie down on his rug when he heard a soft "Pssst!" it was Claris. She sat up and in the semidarkness he could see her beckoning. Reluctantly he approached her and said crossly, "What do you want?"

"Why are you out so late?"

"I was with my father and --" He stopped abruptly, then added quickly, "It's none of your business!"

"What did you talk about?"

"It's none of your business, I said."

"Just the same, I know," Clarisa responded.

"You don't."

"I do. You were talking about how the Indians could become strong again. And papa was saying he wanted to find someone to lead them. And -- "

"How did you find that out?" There was a hint of anger in Zepherin's tone of voice.

"I won't tell you."

"Yes, you will. If you don't I'll --"

Zepherin raised his hand to threaten her and Clarisa prudently shifted back a little on her rug.

Zepherin hesitate for a moment in a very frustrated mood.

It had angered him to be told that he was related to the huincas. Nor could he understand why he should be -- just because his mother was a huinca woman? Anyway, he did not want to worry about it so he dismissed it from his mind. Clarisa. Another source of frustration. She was no ordinary girl. He often had to chase her away from trying to join him in the boys' games. She did what not even a boy would dare to do -- talk back to her elders. Any other girl showing such independence would soon find herself in trouble. She was only a year older than Zepherin, yet she acted as if she were his mother. She painted herself like a woman, covered her wrists and ankles with glass beads and wore silver earrings. Already, too, there were whispers of an elopement. Zepherin was sure that one night she would steal out of the told to her lover and the wedding would follow. The funniest thing about weddings, he thought, was the custom of inviting guests to tell one party the faults and shortcomings of the other! My, wouldn't he have something to tell Clarisa's husband! But just now what lay uppermost in his mind was not his sister's future, but how she had come to know of his conversation with his father.

Disregarding her reticence of a moment before, Clarisa herself supplied the answer. "Oh, everybody in the tolderia knows what Papa thinks these days. He's afraid that soon he will be too old, and he wants to carry out his plans as quickly as possible."

A suspicion flashed through Zepherin's mind. "Were you also listening to my mother and me?"

Clarisa shrugged her shoulders.

Zepherin was shocked. "Why you --"

"Sssh!" Clarisa interrupted him. "You'll waken everybody, silly brother! Go to bed!"

Zepherin shook his fist at her, and hissed. "I'll fix you in the morning!" He rose and crossed over to his niche.

Clarisa tossed her head and uttered a defiant "Ha!"

His conversation with his father was another cause for frustration. He had not clearly understood the implications of the task. he knew his father was dreaming of finding someone to lead his people once again to greatness. But how? There were too few Indians to do anything against the huincas, who were everywhere, controlled everything, and had a large army equipped with every kind of weapon. And who would lead the Indians? He would have to be a very strong and clever man. The only one who came to his mind at the moment was Cousin Bernard. He could shoot, ride and fling the boleadora. But what could even he do to bring back the glory which the old men always talked about? What could his father be thinking of? What plans did he have to restore to the Indians their former greatness?