The Indian bravos, of whom he was the implacable foe, and to whom he had caused irreparable losses, held him in deadly hatred, mingled with superstitious terror. Diogo had so often, and with such good fortune, escaped the snares spread under his feet--so often escaped a nearly certain death--that the Indians had come to believe that this man was protected by some unknown charm, and that he possessed supernatural power. The captain knew well the opinion that the Indians had of him; he knew that if ever he fell into their hands, not only had he no quarter to hope for, but, moreover, that he had to expect the most frightful tortures. This certainly, however, had no influence on his mind; his boldness was not dismayed, and, far from taking precautions during the course of his various expeditions, it was with unspeakable pleasure that he braved his adversaries to the face. The expedition that he was now making was the boldest and most difficult of all he had attempted. His intention was nothing less than to enter a village of the Guaycurus, to be present at their meetings, and thus succeed in discovering their secrets. After having left the camp, the captain rapidly descended the hill, proceeding, notwithstanding the thick darkness which surrounded him, with as much certainty as by daylight, and walking with such lightness, that the noise of his steps would, at some yards' distance, have been imperceptible to the most practised ear. When he had reached the bank of the river, he looked around him an instant; then he threw himself on the ground, and commenced to crawl gently in the direction of a neighbouring wood, a part of which was washed by the water of a river. Arrived at two or three steps from the wood, the Indian suddenly stopped, and thus remained for several minutes, without even the noise of his breathing being heard. Then, after having, by looking around him, sounded the darkness, as it were, he huddled himself into a small space, like a wild beast ready to take a spring. Seizing his knife in the right hand, he lightly raised his head, and imitated, with rare accuracy, the hissing of the giboya, or boa constrictor. Scarcely had this hissing sound been heard when the branches of the thicket were agitated; they were then separated with violence, and an Indian bounded in fright towards the river. At the same moment the captain darted behind him, buried his knife in the Indian's neck, and laid him dead at his feet. This murder had been committed in less time than it has taken us to relate it. But a few seconds had flown, and the warrior was lying lifeless before his implacable enemy. Don Diogo coolly wiped his knife with a tuft of grass, replaced it in his girdle, and leaning over his victim, he regarded him attentively. "Come," he murmured, "fortune has favoured me; this is one of the chiefs; his costume will suit me."