“But there may be others. There was another who followed us far.”
“What of him?” sneered Carlos, snapping his fingers. “He has long lost the scent. It is only these three fellows who tracked us here, and better for them had they never come. Here their bones will rot!”
“If that is true, there is now nothing to prevent the chief from carrying the girl whither he likes. Who is she? That you have not told us, Carlos.”
“That is nothing to you. It is a matter to concern the chief alone.”
“Ah! we know she must be of great value to him, else he would have never taken so many chances. Why was she deceived with the tale that she was to be carried to her father?”
“How know you so much?” grimly demanded Carlos.
Then suddenly he wheeled on Jimenez.
“It’s you who talk a great deal likewise!” he snarled.
Up to this point Jimenez had been silent. Now, like a flash, he sprang up and advanced to the side of Ramon.
“My tongue is my own,” he harshly said. “On it no one has placed a lock. What harm has the child done that she should be deceived? We are the men who did the work; why should not we be trusted? Answer that—if you can. I know that she was told that she should find her father here. I know, too, that he is a fugitive and has long hidden from his enemies. However, I know that she was led to believe that he had sent for her. Where is this man?”