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steps. "I think I had better put myself on guard."
And as he spoke he drew from beneath his poncho his manchetta, the weapon,
adapted at will for offense or defense, which a Brazilian is never without.
And then, slightly stooping, and planted firmly on his feet, he waited for
what was to follow.
"I have come to look for you, Torres," said Benito, who had not stirred in the
least at this threatening attitude.
"To look for me?" answered the adventurer. "It is not very difficult to find
me. And why have you come to look for me?"
"To know from your own lips what you appear to know of the past life of my
father."
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CHAPTER VI. THE LAST BLOW
116
"Really?"
"Yes. I want to know how you recognized him, why yu were prowling about our
fazenda in the forest of
Iquitos, and why you were waiting for us at Tabatinga."
"Well! it seems to me nothing could be clearer!" answered Torres, with a grin.
"I was waiting to get a passage on the jangada, and I went on board with the
intention of making him a very simple propositionwhich possibly he was wrong
in rejecting."
At these words Manoel could stand it no longer. With pale face and eye of fire
he strode up to Torres.
Benito, wishing to exhaust every means of conciliation, thrust himself between
them.
"Calm yourself, Manoel!" he said. "I am calmeven I."
And then continuing:
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"Quite so, Torres; I know the reason of your coming on board the raft.
Possessed of a secret which was doubtless given to you, you wanted to make it
a means of extortion. But that is not what I want to know at present."
"What is it, then?"
"I want to know how you recognized Joam Dacosta in the fazenda of Iquitos?"
"How I recognized him?" replied Torres. "That is my business, and I see no
reason why I should tell you. The important fact is, that I was not mistaken
when I denounced in him the real author of the crime of Tijuco!"
"You say that to me?" exclaimed Benito, who began to lose his selfpossession.
"I will tell you nothing," returned Torres; "Joam Dacosta declined my
propositions! He refused to admit me into his family! Well! now that his
secret is known, now that he is a prisoner, it is I who refuse to enter his
family, the family of a thief, of a murderer, of a condemned felon, for whom
the gallows now waits!"
"Scoundrel!" exclaimed Benito, who drew his manchetta from his belt and put
himself in position.
Manoel and Fragoso, by a similar movement, quickly drew their weapons.
"Three against one!" said Torres.
"No! one against one!" answered Benito.
"Really! I should have thought an assassination would have better suited an
assassin's son!"
"Torres!" exclaimed Benito, "defend yourself, or I will kill you like a mad
dog!"
"Mad! so be it!" answered Torres. "But I bite, Benito Dacosta, and beware of
the wounds!"
And then again grasping his manchetta, he put himself on guard and ready to
attack his enemy.
Benito had stepped back a few paces.
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CHAPTER VI. THE LAST BLOW
117
"Torres," he said, regaining all his coolness, which for a moment he had lost;
"you were the guest of my father, you threatened him, you betrayed him, you
denounced him, you accused an innocent man, and with
God's help I am going to kill you!"
Torres replied with the most insolent smile imaginable. Perhaps at the moment
the scoundrel had an idea of stopping any struggle between Benito and him, and
he could have done so. In fact he had seen that Joam
Dacosta had said nothing about the document which formed the material proof of
his innocence.
Had he revealed to Benito that he, Torres, possessed this proof, Benito would
have been that instant disarmed. But his desire to wait till the very last
moment, so as to get the very best price for the document he possessed, the
recollection of the young man's insulting words, and the hate which he bore to
all that belonged to him, made him forget his own interest.
In addition to being thoroughly accustomed to the manchetta, which he often
had had occasion to use, the adventurer was strong, active, and artful, so
that against an adversary who was scarcely twenty, who could have neither his
strength nor his dexgterity, the chances were greatly in his favor.
Manoel by a last effort wished to insist on fighting him instead of Benito.
"No, Manoel," was the cool reply, "it is for me alone to avenge my father, and
as everyhthing here ought to be in order, you shall be my second."
"Benito!"
"As for you, Fragoso, you will not refuse if I ask you to act as second for
that man?"
"So be it," answered Fragoso, "though it is not an office of honor. Without
the least ceremony," he added, "I
would have killed him like a wild beast."
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The place where the duel was about to take place was a level bank about fifty
paces long, on the top of a cliff rising perpendicularly some fifty feet above
the Amazon. The river slowly flowed at the foot, and bathed the clumps of
reeds which bristled round its base.
There was, therefore, none too much room, and the combatant who was the first
to give way would quickly be driven over into the abyss.
The signal was given by Manoel, and Torres and Benito stepped forward.
Benito had complete command over himself. The defender of a sacred cause, his
coolness was unruffled, much more so than that of Torres, whose conscience
insensible and hardened as it was, was bound at the moment to trouble him.
The two met, and the first blow came from Benito. Torres parried it. They then
jumped back, but almost at the same instant they rushed together, and with
their left hands seized each other by the shouldernever to leave go again.
Torres, who was the strongest, struck a side blow with his manchetta which
Benito could not quite parry. His left side was touched, and his poncho was
reddened with his blood. But he quickly replied, and slightly wounded Torres
in the hand.
Eight Hundred Leagues on the Amazon
CHAPTER VI. THE LAST BLOW
118
Several blows were then interchanged, but nothing decisive was done. The ever
silent gaze of Benito pierced the eyes of Torres like a sword blade thrust to
his very heart. Visibly the scoundrel began to quail. He recoiled little by
little, pressed back by his implacable foe, who was more determined on taking
the life of his father's denouncer than in defending his own. To strike was
all that Benito longed for; to parry was all that the other now attempted to
do.
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