On Christmas morning, an Indian woman had appeared at the gate, requesting to enter and visit her son, who was in the barracks. She was carried before Cambiaso, and being questioned by him as to the movements of the Indians, and when they were coming to make another visit for barter, she contradicted herself continually. She confessed that she had seen the bodies of the Indian boys, but being asked who was with her when she saw them, she at first said, “No one;” then said she had been sent to the yard by one of the chiefs,--then that he was angry about the death of the boys. While she was being questioned, the herdsmen came hurrying into the camp, with the news that the Indians were killing the cattle, and carrying them off. [Illustration] Cambiaso mustered his mounted troops hurriedly, arming them with muskets and clubs; and then, leaving the Indian woman under guard, he hastened out with his men in pursuit of the marauders. The Indians soon took the alarm, and mounting their swift horses, were off before him, leaving the slaughtered cattle lying on their pasture ground. He, however, soon put his men on the track, and leaving them to follow the Indians, returned on the gallop to the barracks, terribly exasperated. He rode in and called to the guard to bring out the Indian woman, crying, “Drag her out! kill her! shoot her down, she shall tell me no more lies!” She was dragged out before him, resisting with all her might, and pleading for her life, asking for her son, praying for his help. Her prayers were useless, and were not even listened to. Cambiaso himself collected a file of soldiers, and ordered her to be dragged to a tree and tied there. He gave the order to fire himself. Six or eight bullets struck her, but still she writhed in agony, and continued her shrieks for help. One of the soldiers, at a nod from Cambiaso, walked up to her and struck her on the head with a club, which silenced her for ever. Her dead body was hanging to the tree when I entered the yard. [Illustration] [Illustration] The English mate, from whom I got most of this information, and who had been suffered to go at large almost unwatched since I left the barracks, told me that he had never seen Cambiaso in such a fiendish passion; that Garcia had tried to quiet him, but without the least effect.