"Well, that is settled, señores; I rely upon the accuracy of your information, for you must perceive the ridiculous position in which a false report would place me in the eyes of Don Fernando's numerous friends, whom I should be loth to disturb without good cause."
"Trust entirely to us, señor; we will confirm our information by irrefragable proof."
"Good! I see we understand each other; it is useless to pursue the matter further."
"Perfectly useless, señor; we are men of quick comprehension."
"Yes," said Don Torribio, smiling; "but, as your memories may be short, do me the honour of dividing these ten ounces amongst you,--not as the earnest--money of a bargain, for there is no bargain between us, but as a return for the service you have just done me, and as a means of imprinting our conversation on your brains."
The _vaqueros_, without waiting to be pressed, extended their hands, and, with smiling faces, pocketed the ounces so liberally bestowed.
"Now, one word more, _caballeros:_ where are we?"
"In the Selva Negra, señor," answered Pablito; "not more than four leagues from the Hacienda del Cormillo, where Don Pedro de Luna and his family are at present residing."
"What! Has Don Pedro left Las Norias de San Antonio?"
"What a singular thing! El Cormillo is on the extreme verge of the wilderness, in the midst of the Apaches: it is impossible to understand it."
"They say it was Doña Hermosa who wished for this change, of which scarcely anybody has yet heard."
"What an extraordinary whim! After the dangers to which she was exposed only a few days ago, to come and brave the redskins on their own territory!"
"The _hacienda_ is strong, and perfectly safe from sudden assault."
"True: yet the change of residence seems very incomprehensible. At sunrise, I should be happy if you would do me the honour of serving me as guides till I get within sight of the _hacienda_. It is important that I should see Don Pedro without delay."
"We shall be at your orders, señor, as soon as you please to depart," answered Carlocho.
The night was fleeting; and Don Torribio had need of repose to restore his strength, exhausted by his late struggle for life. He rolled himself in his _zarapé_, stretched out his feet towards the fire, and was soon asleep, in spite of the trouble that racked his mind.