He galloped forward and disappeared in the gloom. When a certain distance off, he dismounted and put his ears to the ground.
"¡Demonios!" he muttered, as he got up and leapt on to his horse again; "we are pursued. Can that Satan of a Pedrito have recognized me?"
"What's the matter?" the governor asked. "Nothing," Torribio replied, laying his left hand on his arm. "Don Antonio Valverde, surrender; you are my prisoner."
"Are you mad, Don Torribio?"
"No longer call me Don Torribio, señor," the young man said in a hollow voice; "I am Nocobotha, the great chief of the Patagonian natives."
"Treachery!" the governor shouted; "Help, gauchos, defend me!"
"It is useless, colonel, for those men belong to me."
"I will not surrender," the governor continued "Don Torribio, or whoever you may be, you are a coward."
He freed himself from the young man's grasp by a bound of his horse, and drew his sabre. The rapid gallop of several horses came nearer every moment.
"Can that be help arriving for me?" the governor said, as he cocked a pistol.