“No,” went on Alcantara, lighting his cigarette, “you will not find him here. I have one hundred men, but each has been with me since before the beginning of the wet season. No one has joined me of late.”
She turned about, half murmuring to herself, and made as if to go.
“He went the other way, perhaps,” suggested the general; “to Rio Chico, where is another force of Los Salvadores.”
She came round upon him, arms raised, set teeth showing between lips that were pale again.
“I go to Rio Chico,” she said.
“And he will be gone—wait, wait! General Pablo Montilla leaves Rio Chico to-night with his column.”
“I shall follow.”
“I join him with my men at dawn.”
He saw the light of a terrible hope illuminate her countenance. She came to his stirrup again.
“Señor general,” she pleaded, “let me go with your soldiers. I am young and strong—I can cook—I can carry a load——”