"We will surround them, so that none can escape," growled the surly leader. "Then, knowing the plans of this Mr. Blunt, we will post men to cut off any gaucho who may be sent with a message to the other ranchers, and as the dawn breaks we will attack our neighbors. At last, my friend, I shall be even with you. You escaped my men on the river, just as you slipped out of my fingers on two former occasions. This time fortune is favoring me, and when the dawn comes I shall have paid my debt. There will be no longer a reason for the vendetta."
The man clenched his fists and swore in Italian, under his breath. Then, calling gently to his men, he rode from the trees, and very soon was spurring down upon the spot so lately occupied by Dudley and his party.
CHAPTER XVI
HEMMED IN ON EVERY SIDE
A small crescent of the moon rode high in a cloudless sky on that eventful night when Dudley led his little band back towards the dark forest line behind which lay the estancia that they had so recently visited; and the faint light it shed helped them not a little as they rode.
"We are fortunate," whispered Dudley to Harold, who jogged along beside him. "If it had been one of those pitch-dark nights which we have on occasion, we should have found it difficult to discover even the forest, for it is wonderful how easily one loses one's bearings on the pampas."
"Even during broad daylight," came the answer. "Why, time and again I have found myself at a loss, and have wondered which direction I ought to take. Then I have remembered the advice which Pietro gave, and soon I have got my direction from the sun. But we are lucky to-night, as you say. There is the forest, and there—yes, there is Pepito and his following."
They pulled in their horses for a minute and stared steadily ahead to where, stretching ghostly and silently across their track a mile away, lay the forest line, the belt of trees which separated them from the estancia towards which they were riding. What might not be in store for them there? What unthought-of danger might they not be about to encounter?
"I am sure, as sure as a fellow can well be, that the man who lives over there is a rascal," murmured Dudley, as if speaking his thoughts aloud. "If ever there was 'ruffian,' written upon a man's face, he had it on his; and the more I think of Mr. Blunt's tales, of the attacks with which he has had to put up, and the mystery which surrounds the brigands who have made these attacks, the more sure I am that there is something in our suspicions. There is good reason for them, and to-night we will do our best to settle the matter."
"And supposing you find evidence that this fellow is a ruffian," asked Harold thoughtfully, "will you——?"