CHAPTER SIXTY NINE.
And what had become of Carlos? Was it true that he had crossed thegreat plains? Did he never return? What became of San Ildefonso?
These questions were asked, because he who narrated the legend hadremained for some time silent. His eyes wandered over the valley, nowraised to the cliff of La Nina, and now resting upon the weed-coveredruin. Strong emotion was the cause of his silence.
His auditory, already half guessing the fate of San Ildefonso,impatiently desired to know the end. After a while he continued.
Carlos _did_ return. What became of San Ildefonso? In yonder ruin youhave your answer. San Ildefonso fell. But, you would know how? Oh! itis a terrible tale--a tale of blood and vengeance, and Carlos was theavenger.
Yes--the cibolero returned to the valley of San Ildefonso, but he camenot alone. Five hundred warriors were at his back--red warriors whoacknowledged him as their leader--their "White Chief." They were thebraves of the Waco band. They knew the story of his wrongs, and hadsworn to avenge him!
It was autumn--late autumn--that loveliest season of the American year,when the wild woods appeal painted, and Nature seems to repose after herannual toil--when all her creatures, having feasted at the full banquetshe has so lavishly laid out for them, appear content and happy.
It was night, with an autumnal moon--that moon whose round orb andsilvery beams have been celebrated in the songs of many a harvest land.
Not less brilliant fell those beams where no harvest was ever known--upon the wild plain of the Llano Estacado. The lone _hatero_, couchedbeside his silent flock, was awakened by a growl from his watchfulsheep-dog. Raising himself, he looked cautiously around. Was it thewolf, the grizzly bear, or the red puma? None of these. A fardifferent object was before his eyes, as he glanced over the levelplain--an object whose presence caused him to tremble.
A long line of dark forms was moving across the plain. They were theforms of horses with their riders. They were in single file--the muzzleof each horse close to the croup of the one that preceded him. Fromeast to west they moved. The head of the line was already near, but itsrear extended beyond the reach of the hatero's vision.
Presently the troop filed before him, and passed within two hundredpaces of where he lay. Smoothly and silently it glided on. There wasno chinking of bits, no jingling of spurs, no clanking of sabres. Alonecould be heard the dull stroke of the shoeless hoof, or at intervals theneigh of an impatient steed, suddenly checked by a reproof from hisrider. Silently they passed on--silent as spectres. The full moongleaming upon them added to their unearthly appearance!
The watcher trembled where he lay--though he knew they were notspectres. He knew well what they were, and understood the meaning ofthat extended deployment. They were Indian warriors upon the march.The bright moonlight enabled him to distinguish farther. He saw thatthey were all full-grown men--that they were nude to the waist, andbelow the thighs--that their breasts and arms were painted--that theycarried nought but their bows, quivers, and spears--in short, that theywere braves _on the war-trail_!
Strangest sight of all to the eyes of the hatero was the leader who rodeat the head of that silent band. He differed from all the rest indress, in equipments, in the colour of his skin. _The hatero saw thathe was white_!
Surprised was he at first on observing this, but not for long. Thisshepherd was one of the sharpest of his tribe. It was he who haddiscovered the remains of the yellow hunter and his companion. Heremembered the events of that time. He reflected; and in a few momentsarrived at the conclusion that the _White Chief_ he now saw could be noother than Carlos the cibolero! In that conjecture he was right.
The first thought of the hatero had been to save his own life byremaining quiet. Before the line of warriors had quite passed him,other thoughts came into his mind. The Indians were on the_war-trail_!--they were marching direct for the settlement,--they wereheaded by Carlos the cibolero!
The history of Carlos the outlaw now came before his mind--he rememberedthe whole story; beyond a doubt the cibolero was returning to thesettlement to take vengeance upon his enemies!
Influenced partly by patriotism, and partly by the hope of reward, thehatero at once resolved to defeat this purpose. He would hasten to thevalley and warn the garrison!
As soon as the line had filed past he rose to his feet, and was about tostart off upon his errand; but he had miscalculated the intelligence ofthe white leader. Long before, the flanking scouts had enclosed bothhim and his charge, and the next moment he was a captive! Part of hisflock served for the supper of that band he would have betrayed.
Up to the point where the hatero had been encountered, the White Chiefand his followers had travelled along a well-known path--the trail ofthe traders. Beyond this, the leader swerved from the track; andwithout a word headed obliquely over the plain. The extended linefollowed silently after--as the body of a snake moves after its head.
Another hour, and they had arrived at the _ceja_ of the Great Plain--ata point well-known to their chief. It was at the head of that ravinewhere he had so oft found shelter from his foes. The moon, thoughshining with splendid brilliance, was low in the sky, and her light didnot penetrate the vast chasm. It lay buried in dark shade. The descentwas a difficult one, though not to such men, and with such a guide.
Muttering some words to his immediate follower, the White Chief headedhis horse into the cleft, and the next moment disappeared under theshadow of the rocks.
The warrior that followed, passing the word behind him, rode after, andlikewise disappeared in the darkness; then another, and another, untilfive hundred mounted men were engulfed in that fearful-looking abysm.Not one remained upon the upper plain.
For a while there struck upon the ear a continued pattering sound--thesound of a thousand hoofs as they fell upon rocks and loose shingle.But this noise gradually died away, and all was silence. Neither horsesnor men gave any token of their presence in the ravine. The only soundsthat fell upon the ears were the voices of nature's wild creatures whosehaunts had been invaded. They were the wail of the goatsucker, the bayof the barking wolf, and the maniac scream of the eagle.
Another day passes--another moon has arisen--and the gigantic serpent,that had all day lain coiled in the ravine, is seen gliding silently outat its bottom, and stretching its long vertebrate form across the plainof the Pecos.
The stream is reached and crossed; amidst plashing spray, horse followshorse over the shallow ford, and then the glittering line glides on.
Having passed the river lowlands, it ascends the high plains thatoverlook the valley of San Ildefonso.
Here a halt is made--scouts are sent forward--and once more the linemoves on.
Its head reaches the cliff of La Nina just as the moon has sunk behindthe snowy summit of the Sierra Blanca. For the last hour the leader hasbeen marching slowly, as though he waited her going down. Her light isno longer desired. Darkness better befits the deed that is to be done.
A halt is made until the pass has been reconnoitred. That done, theWhite Chief guides his followers down the defile; and in anotherhalf-hour the five hundred horsemen have silently disappeared within themazes of the chapparal!
Under the guidance of the half-blood Antonio, an open glade is foundnear the centre of the thicket. Here the horsemen dismount and tietheir horses to the trees. The attack is to be made on foot.
It is now the hour after midnight. The moon has been down for sometime; and the cirrus clouds, that for a while had reflected her light,have been gradually growing darker. Objects can no longer bedistinguished at the distance of twenty feet. The huge pile of thePresidio, looming against the leaden sky, looks black and gloomy. Thesentinel cannot be seen upon the turrets, but at intervals his shrillvoice uttering the "_Centinela alerte_!" tells that he is at his post.His call is answered by the sentinel at the gate below, and then all issilent. The garrison sleeps secure--even the night-guard in the zaguanwith their bodies ext
ended along the stone banqueta, are sleepingsoundly.
The Presidio dreads no sudden attack--there has been no rumour of Indianincursion--the neighbouring tribes are all _en paz_; and the Tagnoconspirators have been destroyed. Greater vigilance would besuperfluous. A sentry upon the azotea, and another by the gate, aredeemed sufficient for the ordinary guardianship of the garrison. Ha!the inmates of the Presidio little dream of the enemy that is nigh:
"_Centinela alerte_!" once more screams the watcher upon the wall."_Centinela alerte_!" answers the other by the gate.
But neither is sufficiently on the alert to perceive the dark formsthat, prostrate upon the ground, like huge lizards, are crawling forwardto the very walls. Slowly and silently these forms are moving, amidstweeds and grass, gradually drawing nearer to the gateway of thePresidio.
A lantern burns by the sentinel. Its light, radiating to some distance,does not avail him--he sees them not!
A rustling noise at length reaches his ear. The "_quien viva_?" is uponhis lips; but he lives not to utter the words. Half-a-dozen bowstringstwang simultaneously, and as many arrows bury themselves in his flesh.His heart is pierced, and he falls, almost without uttering a groan!
A stream of dark forms pours into the open gateway. The guard, but halfawake, perish before they can lay hand upon their weapons!
And now the war-cry of the Wacoes peals out in earnest, and the hundredsof dark warriors rush like a torrent through the zaguan.
They enter the patio. The doors of the _cuartos_ are besieged--soldiers, terrified to confusion, come forth in their shirts, and fallunder the spears of their dusky assailants. Carbines and pistols crackon all sides, but those who fire do not live to reload them.
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It was a short but terrible struggle--terrible while it lasted. Therewere shouts, and shots, and groans, mingling together--the deep voice ofthe vengeful leader, and the wild war-cry of his followers--the crashingof timber, as doors were broken through or forced from their hinges--theclashing of swords and spears, and the quick detonation of fire-arms.Oh! it was a terrible conflict!
It ends at length. An almost total silence follows. The warriors nolonger utter their dread cry. Their soldier-enemies are destroyed.Every cuarto has been cleared of its inmates, who lie in bleeding heapsover the patio and by the doors. No quarter has been given. All havebeen killed on the spot.
No--not all. There are two who survive--two whose lives have beenspared. Vizcarra and Roblado yet live!
Piles of wood are now heaped against the timber posterns of thebuilding, and set on fire. Volumes of smoke roll to the sky, minglingwith sheets of red flame. The huge pine-beams of the azotea catch theblaze, burn, crackle, and fall inwards, and in a short while thePresidio becomes a mass of smoking ruins!
But the red warriors have not waited for this. The revenge of theirleader is not yet complete. It is not to the soldiers alone that heowes vengeance. He has sworn it to the citizens as well. The wholesettlement is to be destroyed!
And well this oath was kept, for before the sun rose San Ildefonso wasin flames. The arrow, and the spear, and the tomahawk, did their work;and men, women, and children, perished in hundreds under the blazingroofs of their houses!
With the exception of the Tagno Indians, few survived to tell of thathorrid massacre. A few whites only--the unhappy father of Catalinaamong the rest--were permitted to escape, and carry their brokenfortunes to another settlement.
That of San Ildefonso--town, Presidio, mission, haciendas, and ranchos--in the short space of twelve hours had ceased to exist. The dwellers ofthat lovely valley were no more!
It is yet but noon. The ruins of San Ildefonso are still smoking. Itsformer denizens are dead, but it is not yet unpeopled. In the Plazastand hundreds of dusky warriors drawn up in hollow square, with theirfaces turned inward. They are witnessing a singular scene--another actin the drama of their leader's vengeance.
Two men are mounted upon asses, and tied upon the backs of the animals.These men are stripped--so that their own backs are perfectly bare, andexposed to the gaze of the silent spectators! Though these men nolonger wear their flowing robes, it is easy to distinguish them. Theirclose-cut hair and shaven crowns show who they are--the padres of themission!
Deep cuts the cuarto into their naked skin, loudly do they groan, andfearfully writhe. Earnestly do they beg and pray their persecutors tostay the terrible lash. Their entreaties are unheeded.
Two white men, standing near, overlook the execution. These are Carlosthe cibolero and Don Juan the ranchero.
The priests would move them to pity, but in vain. The hearts of thosetwo men have been turned to stone.
"Remember my mother--my sister!" mutters Carlos.
"Yes, false priests--remember!" adds Don Juan.
And again is plied the cutting lash, until each corner of the Plaza haswitnessed a repetition of the punishment!
Then the asses are led up in front of the parroquia--now roofless andblack; their heads are fastened together, so that the backs of theirriders are turned toward the spectators.
A line of warriors forms at a distance off--their bows are bent, and ata signal a flight of arrows goes whistling through the air.
The suffering of the padres is at an end. Both have ceased to exist.
I have arrived at the last act of this terrible drama; but words cannotdescribe it. In horror it eclipses all the rest. The scene is LaNina--the top of the cliff--the same spot where Carlos had performed hissplendid feat on the day of San Juan.
Another feat of horsemanship is now to be exhibited. How different theactors--how different the spectators!
Upon the tongue that juts out two men are seated upon horseback. Theyare not free riders, for it may be noticed that they are tied upon theirseats. Their hands do not grasp a bridle, but are bound behind theirbacks; and their feet, drawn together under the bellies of their horses,are there spliced with raw-hide ropes. To prevent turning in thesaddle, other thongs, extending from strong leathern waist-belts, staythem to croup and pommel, and hold their bodies firm. Under such aligature no horse could dismount either without also flinging thesaddle, and that is guarded against by the strongest girthing. It isnot intended that these horsemen shall lose their seats until they haveperformed an extraordinary feat.
It is no voluntary act. Their countenances plainly tell that. Upon thefeatures of both are written the most terrible emotions--cravencowardice in all its misery--despair in its darkest shadows!
Both are men of nearly middle age--both are officers in full uniform.But it needs not that to recognise them as the deadly enemies ofCarlos--Vizcarra and Roblado. No longer now his enemies. They are hiscaptives!
But for what purpose are they thus mounted? What scene of mockery is tobe enacted? Scene of mockery! Ha! ha! ha!
Observe! _the horses upon which they sit are wild mustangs_! Observe!_they are blinded with tapojos_!
For what purpose? You shall see.
A Tagno stands at the head of each horse, and holds him with difficulty.The animals are kept fronting the cliff, with their heads directed tothe jutting point of La Nina.
The Indians are drawn up in line also facing to the cliff. There is nonoise in their ranks. An ominous silence characterises the scene. Infront is their chief mounted upon his coal-black steed; and upon him theeyes of all are fixed, as though they expected some signal, his face ispale, but its expression is stern and immobile. He has not yet reachedthe completion of his vengeance.
There are no words between him and his victims. All that has passed.They know their doom.
Their backs are towards him, and they see him not; but the Tagnos whostand by the horses' heads have their eyes fixed upon him with asingular expression. What do these expect? A signal.
In awful silence was that signal given. To the right and left sprangthe Tagnos, leaving free the heads of the mustangs. Another sign
al tothe line of mounted warriors, who, on receiving it, spurred their horsesforward with a wild yell.
Their spears soon pricked the hips of the mustangs, and the blindedanimals sprang towards the cliff!
The groans of agonised terror that escaped from their riders weredrowned by the yells of the pursuing horsemen.
In a moment all was over. The terrified mustangs had sprung out fromthe cliff--had carried their riders into eternity!
The dusky warriors pulled up near the brink, and sat gazing upon eachother in silent awe.
A horseman dashed to the front; and, poising his horse upon the veryedge, looked down into the abysm. It was the White Chief.
For some moments he regarded the shapeless masses that lay below. Hesaw that they moved not. Men and horses were all dead crushed, bruised,and shattered--a hideous sight to behold!
A deep sigh escaped him, as though some weight had been lifted from hisheart, and, turning around he muttered to his friend--
"Don Juan! I have kept my oath--_she is avenged_!"
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The setting sun saw that long line of Indian warriors filing from thevalley, and heading for the plain of the Llano Estacado. But they wentnot as they had come. They returned to their country laden with theplunder of San Ildefonso--to them the legitimate spoils of war.
The cibolero still rode at their head, and Don Juan the ranchero was byhis side. The fearful scenes through which they had just passedshadowed the brows of both; but these shadows became lighter as theydwelt on the prospect before them. Each looked forward to a happygreeting at the end of his journey.
Carlos did not remain long among his Indian friends. Loaded with thetreasure they had promised, he proceeded farther east, and established aplantation upon the Red River of Louisiana. Here, in the company of hisbeautiful wife, his sister, Don Juan, and some of his old servants, heled in after years a life of peace and prosperity.
Now and then no made hunting excursions into the country of his oldfriends the Wacoes--who were over glad to see him again, and stillhailed him as their chief.
Of San Ildefonso there is no more heard since that time. No settlementwas ever after made in that beautiful valley. The Tagnos--released fromthe bondage which the padres had woven around them--were but too glad togive up the half-civilisation they had been taught. Some of them soughtother settlements, but most returned to their old habits, and once morebecame hunters of the plains.
Perhaps the fate of San Ildefonso might have attracted more attention inother times; but it occurred at a peculiar period in Spanish-Americanhistory. Just then the Spanish power, all over the American continent,was hastening to its decline; and the fall of San Ildefonso was but oneepisode among many of a character equally dramatic. Near the same timefell Gran Quivira, Abo, Chilili, and hundreds of other settlements ofnote. Each has its story--each its red romance--perhaps far moreinteresting than that we have here recorded.
Chance alone guided our steps to the fair valley of San Ildefonso,--chance threw in our way one who remembered its legend--the legend of the_White Chief_.
APPENDIX.
NOTES.
"_Sierra Blanca_."--Page 1. The Sierra Blanca is so called because thetops of this range are usually covered with snow. The snow of theSierra Blanca is not "eternal." It only remains for about three partsof the year. Its highest peaks are below the snow-line of thatlatitude. Mountains that carry the eternal snow are by the SpanishAmericans denominated "Nevada."
"_The Grand Prairie_."--Page 2. This name is somewhat indefinite, beingapplied by some to particular portions of prairie land. Among thehunters it is the general name given to the vast treeless region lyingto the west of the timbered country on the Mississippi. The wholelongitudinal belt from the Lower Rio Grande to the Great Slave Lake is,properly speaking, the Grand Prairie; but the phrase has been used in amore restricted sense, to designate the larger tracts of open country,in contra-distinction to the smaller prairies, such as those of Illinoisand Louisiana, which last are separated from the true prairie country bywide tracts of timbered surface.
"_Settlements of Nuevo Mexico_."--Page 2. The settlements of New Mexicocovered at one time a much wider extent of country than they do now.The Indians have been constantly narrowing the boundaries for the lastfifty years. At present these settlements are almost wholly restrictedto the banks of the Del Norte and a few tributary streams.
"_Gramma grass_."--Page 2. The _Chondrosium_, a beautiful and mostnutritions herbage that covers many of the plains of Texas and NorthMexico. There are several species of grass known among Mexicans as"gramma"; one in particular, the _Chondrosium foeneum_, as a food forhorses, is but little inferior to oats.
"_Cackle of his fighting-cock_."--Page 7. There is no exaggeration inall this. Every traveller in Mexico has witnessed such scenes, and manyhave borne testimony to these and similar facts. I have often seen thefighting chanticleer carried inside the church under the arm of itsowner, while the latter entered to pray!
"_Fiestas principales_."--Page 7. The more noted Saints' days, orreligious festivals, as Saint John's, Good-Friday, Guadalupe, etcetera,are so styled to distinguish them from the many others of lessercelebrity.
"_Tailing the bull_."--Page 7. "Bull-tailing" (_coleo de toro_) and"running the cock" (_correr el gallo_) are favourite sports in mostparts of Mexico, but particularly in the Northern provinces. They werealso Californian games while that country was Spano-Mexican.
"_The Apache_"--Page 8. One of the largest tribes of the "Indiosbravos" or wild Indians, _i.e._ Indians who have never submitted to theSpanish yoke. Their country lies around the heads of the Gila,extending from that stream to the Del Norte, and down the latter to therange of another large and powerful tribe--the Comanches--also classedas "Indios bravos."
"_Familias principales_."--Page 8. The "first families," a UnitedStates phrase, is the synonym of "familias principales" of Mexico.
"_Comerciante_."--Page 8. Merchant or extensive trader. Merchandise isnot degrading in Mexico. The rich merchant may be one of the "familiasprincipales." Although there is still an old _noblesse_ in the Mexicanrepublic, the titles are merely given by courtesy, and those who holdthem are often outranked and eclipsed in style by the prosperousparvenu.
"_Alcalde_."--Page 8. Pronounced Alkalde. The duties of the Alcaldeare very similar to those of a magistrate or justice of the peace.Every village has its Alcalde, who is known by his large gold orsilver-headed cane and tassel. In villages where the population ispurely Indian, the Alcalde is usually either of Indian or mixeddescent--often pure Indian.
"_Mode de Paris_!"--Page 8. The upper classes in Mexico, particularlythose who reside in the large cities, have discarded the verypicturesque national costume, and follow the fashions of Paris. In allthe large towns, French tailors, modistes, jewellers, etcetera, may bemet with. The ladies wear French dresses, but without the bonnet. Theshawl is drawn over the head when it becomes necessary to cover it. Thehideous bonnet is only seen upon foreign ladies residing in Mexico. Thecity gentleman of first-class wears a frock-coat, but the cloth jacketis the costume of the greater number. A long-tailed dress-coat isregarded as an _outre_ affair, and never appears upon the streets of aMexican town.
"_Gachupino_."--Page 9. A Spaniard of Old Spain. The term is usedcontemptuously by the natives, or Creoles (Criollos), of Mexico, whohate their Spanish cousins as the Americans hate Englishmen, and for avery similar reason.
"_Hijo de algo_."--Page 9. Literally, "son of somebody." Hence theword _hidalgo_. The "blue blood" (_sangre azul_) is the term for pureblood or high birth.
"_Poblanas_."--Page 9. A _poblana_ is, literally, a village girl orwoman, but in a more specific sense it signifies a village belle, orbeauty. It is nearly a synonyme of the Spanish "maja."
"_Don Juan Tenorio_."--Page 9. Don Juan Tenorio--a celebrated characterof Spanish romance and drama. He is the original from whi
ch Byron drewhis conception of Don Juan. He is the hero of a thousand love-scrapesand "_desafios_," or duels. The drama of "Don Juan Tenorio" still keepsthe Spanish stage, and Spaniards can hardly find words to express theiradmiration of its poetry. It requires two nights to play this piece,which is about twice the length of a regular five-act play.
"_Teniente_."--Page 9. "Lugar-teniente" is lieutenant in Spanish, butthe "lugar" is left out, and "teniente" stands for the title of thesubaltern.
"_Quien sabel_."--Page 10. A noted phrase which figures largely inSpanish dialogue. Literally, "Who knows?"
"_Gambucinos and rancheros_!"--Page 10. _Gambucino_, a petty miner, whodigs or washes gold on his own account. _Ranchero_, the dweller in a_rancho_, or country hut. The ranchero class corresponds pretty nearlyto that known as "small farmers," though in Mexico they are more oftengraziers than agriculturists.
"_Enaguas_."--Page 10. Sometimes written "nagua,"--the petticoat,usually of coarse blue or red cotton stuff, with a list of white or someother colour forming the top part.
"_Reboso_."--Page 10. The scarf of greyish or slaty blue, worn by allwomen in Mexico, except the ladies of the Upper Ten Thousand, who use itonly on occasions.
"_Allegria_."--Page 11. A singular custom prevails among the women ofNew Mexico, of daubing their faces all over with the juice of a berrycalled by them the "allegria," which gives them anything but a charminglook. The juice is of a purplish red colour, somewhat like that ofblackberries. Some travellers allege that it is done for ornament, asthe Indians use vermilion and other pigments. This is not a correctexplanation. The "allegria" is used by the New Mexican belles topreserve the complexion, and get it up towards some special occasion,such as a grand _fiesta_ or "fandango," when it is washed off, and theskin comes out clear and free from "tan." The "allegria" is the wellknown "poke-weed" of the United States (_Phytolacca decandra_.)
"_Sombrero_."--Page 11. The black _glaze_ hat with low crown and broadleaf is a universal favourite throughout Mexico. It is often wornseveral pounds in weight, and that, too, under a hot tropic sun. Somesort of gold or silver lace-band is common, but frequently this is ofheavy bullion, and costly.
"_Pueblos_."--Page 11. There are many towns in New Mexico inhabitedexclusively by "Pueblos," a name given to a large tribe of civilisedIndians,--_Indios mansos_ (tame Indians) such tribes are called, todistinguish them from the _Indios bravos_, or savages, who neveracknowledged the sway of the Spanish conquerors.
"_Peons_."--Page 12. The labouring serfs of the country are _peons_.They are not slaves by the wording of the political law, but most ofthem are in reality slaves by the law of debtor and creditor.
"_Petates_," etcetera--Page 12. A "petate" is a small mat about thesize of a blanket, woven out of palm-strips, or bulrushes, according tothe district; it is the universal bed of the Mexican peasant.
_Tunas_ and _pitahayas_ are fruits of different species of cactus.
_Sandias_ are water-melons.
_Dulces_ are preserves.
_Agua-miel_ and _limonada_, refreshing drinks peculiar to Mexico.
_Piloncillos_, loaves of coarse brown sugar, met with in all parts ofMexico, and very much like the maple-sugar of the States.
_Tortillas_, the often-described daily bread of the Mexican people.
_Chili Colorado_, red pepper.
_Ollas_, earthen pots of all sizes--almost the only sort used in theMexican kitchen.
_Atole_, a thin gruel resembling flour and water, but in reality madeout of the finer dust of the maize, boiled and sweetened.
_Pinole_, parched maize mixed with water and sweetened.
_Clacos_, copper cents, or half-pence,--the copper coin of Mexico.
_Punche_, a species of native-grown tobacco.
_Aguardiente_, whisky distilled from maize, or sometimes from the aloe--literally, _agua ardiente_, hot or fiery water. It is the common whiskyof the country, and a vile stuff in most cases.
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