"Certainly we will come with you; but we shall not give up our arms; and if any violence is attempted, I warn you that we shall fire on you." None of the Indians carried guns, and for that reason the Prince had more faith in the efficacy of his threat. "Very well," said the leader of the mounted Indians. "Follow us." It was but a short distance to the village or camp or _tolderia_; and, at the entrance to it, the Guaranis (for to that tribe they belonged) dismounted, and each of the white men found his bridle seized by an Indian. "Who is your chief? Where is your cacique?" demanded Prince Adalbert impatiently. His captors pointed to a young man who, accompanied by another much older, had just appeared from the largest of the huts and was coming towards them. The young chief proved to be a very mild-mannered person. He said half apologetically that the tribe was poor, and that strangers were expected to make some offering on coming among them. "We were prepared to make presents," said the Prince good-humouredly, "but we object to being asked for them." The older man--evidently the Ahithophel of the tribe--whispered something, whereupon the chief said more spiritedly: "You have been taken prisoners in our forest. You must ransom yourselves"--Ahithophel whispered again--"by giving up your arms and your baggage." Those of the Prussians who understood the cacique's Spanish cocked their pistols. "Patience; we must reason with them," said the Prince in his own language. He was trying to think of the most potent argument to employ, when a sudden outcry arose on all hands, and more than half the Indians, including the chief and his evil genius, turned towards the river as though in haste to meet someone. The canoes which the travellers had seen from a distance were drawing up to the wooden landing-stage. "What's this? What are they all doing?" asked the Prince; as well he might, for his assailants, so clamorous and threatening only a moment before, were falling on their knees one after the other, crossing themselves and shouting jubilantly: "The padre! The holy padre!" A pleasant-faced, athletic-looking man, wearing a large _sombrero_ and a priest's cassock, was standing on the little quay, holding up his hand to bless the kneeling crowd, and at the same time throwing a quick glance of curiosity towards the prisoners. "At least he's a white man," said the Prince, much relieved, as he signed to Count Oriolla to dismount and go to speak to the new-comer. In a couple of minutes he saw both men hurrying towards him. The priest raised his hat and, in excellent German, introduced himself as a Scots Jesuit whose duty it was to make periodical visits to the camps that had no church, to administer the sacraments to the devout.