"I didn't see him when I come by," observed Hooker.
"Ah, no—not in the cárcel—in the cuartel, the guard-house of the rurales!"
"Much obliged!" nodded Bud, and rode on through the town. The street of the Mexican quarter was filled with strange people hurrying to and fro; long pack-trains loaded with trunks and curious bundles came swinging up from below; and a pair of rurales, looking fierce under their huge sombreros stood guard by the cuartel door.
"Where is the capitan?" demanded Hooker. After requesting him to hang his pistol-belt on his saddle-horn, a sergeant showed him in to the chief.
Manuel del Rey was very busy with papers and orders, but as the American appeared in the doorway he rose and greeted him with a bow.
"Ah, good morning, señor," he said, with one swift glance to read his mood. "You are in search of your friend—no?"
"Sí, señor," answered Hooker, but with none of the animosity which the captain had expected. "Where is he?"
"I regret very much," began the officer, speaking with military formality, "but it is my duty to inform you that the Señor De Lancey has left Fortuna. Last night he did me the honor to enlist in my company of rurales—he is now on his way to the north to assist in guarding the railroad."
"What?" shouted Bud, hardly able to believe his ears. But when the captain repeated it he no longer doubted his Spanish.
"But why?" he cried. "Why did he join the rurales?"