He cast a glance at the fire, stirred the contents of his steaming kettle again, and then sauntered off into the forest in the direction from which the report of the rifle had come.
"Evidently he is the only man out of the firing line," thought Dudley, "so that I can now expect to be alone till he comes back. By then I shall be gone. Quiet, boy! It's I. Don't you remember?"
He rose to his feet noiselessly and passed between the horses. The one on his left was asleep, his head dangling till his nose was not far from the ground. But the one he had selected was wide awake, and again turned and whinnied. Dudley slipped his hand along the neck and down the chin till he came to the picketing rope. A slash from his knife severed it, and then, having already made sure that there were no heel ropes, he backed the fine animal out of the horse lines by gently pulling on his bridle.
Hush! There was someone entering the clearing again, and for the moment operations must be suspended. If it was the black cook, no doubt his curiosity would take him away again, and then would be Dudley's opportunity. But movement now was certain to be detected, and though he would have a start he still remembered that he had to pass through the forest to reach the pampas, and that once there he might find his escape cut off by gauchos posted on the plains and provided with horses. He stood still, peering between the horses, while with a gentle pull at the bridle he urged the one he held into its place again.
"Not the cook this time," he said, feeling as if all his plans would be ruined. "There are three of them, and—yes—the cook is there too. That is a piece of very bad luck; the fellows are going to sup."
Three gauchos had indeed come into the clearing, and stood in the firelight, silhouetted sharply, and with their backs turned to Dudley. The fourth figure was that of the native cook, and he at once produced some tin platters and pannikins, and provided each of the gauchos with a meal. Then he brought a stone bottle of big proportions and filled the pannikins from its contents.
The delay was exasperating, and for a time Dudley fidgeted and fretted, fearful that discovery might come at any instant, and well knowing that every minute of the remaining darkness was of the utmost importance to him. The minutes dragged painfully along, while the four robbers chatted at their ease. It seemed that they would never go. However, a fifth individual now entered, and at his coming the three gauchos promptly drank up the contents of their pannikins and disappeared. The newcomer was Antonio Sarvisti, the leader, who never took his eyes off his following if he could help it, for he was suspicious of everyone. He scowled at his gauchos now, pointed to the forest, and bade them return.
"Time you were back," he said curtly. "You have been away too long already, and seem to forget that there are comrades to be fed. Now, boy, something to eat and drink. Then a cigar, and I will see whether I cannot rouse the fellows to attack again. Food and drink do wonders. Matters brighten when a man is comfortable, and maybe we shall capture those rascals before the dawn comes. Up to the top, boy, and stand ready to refill it."
He gripped the tin pannikin, swung his head back, and gulped the contents down at a draught, holding the pannikin out to be refilled, while he gasped for breath.
"That is good," he said. "The stew smells excellent, and reminds a man that he has not had a bite for many hours. Now, get along to the men and order the next batch to come and feed."