Page:Iracéma, the honey-lips (1886).djvu/70

tomahawk. The duel between Irapúam and Martim began. The Christian՚s sword was shivered by the savage՚s tomahawk. The Tabajára Chief advanced upon his unarmed adversary.

Iraçéma hissed like the Boicininga,^[1] and threw herself between her warrior and the Tabajára; at once the massive weapon trembled in his powerful right hand and his arm fell inanimate by his side.

The Poçema of victory sounded. The Pytiguára warriors, headed by Jacaúna and Poty, swept the forest. The Tabajáras snatched, as they fled, their Chief from the hatred and vengeance of the daughter of Araken, who had the power of conquering him, as the Jandáia prostrates the tallest and strongest palm-tree by nibbling the core.

The eyes of Iraçéma, scanning the forest, saw the ground strewed with the bodies of her brethren, and in the distance the remnant of their war-party flying in a black cloud of dust. That blood which stained the ground was the same brave blood which now lit up her cheeks with shame.

The grief-drops moistened her beautiful cheek. Martim withdrew that he might not embarrass her sorrow. He wished her naked woe to bathe itself in tear floods.

Poty returned from pursuing the foe. His eyes filled with delight when he saw the white warrior safe.

The faithful dog followed him closely, still licking from its hairy mouth the Tabajára blood, of which it had drunk its fill. Its master caressed it, pleased by its courage and devotion. It had saved Martim by guiding so diligently the warriors of Jacaúna.