"The bombero," Pedrito replied, "has paid today the debt contracted yesterday with Nocobotha the Ulmen of the Aucas."
Don Torribio's face was covered with a deadly pallor.
"We are quits, chief," Pedrito continued, as he let go the bridle.
When the rider had disappeared in the darkness, Pedrito turned to his brothers—
"I know not why it is," he said, with a sigh of relief, "but I feel happy at owing nothing to that man."
[CHAPTER XI.]
THE CHASE OF THE ÑANDUS.
At the Estancia of San Julian, the hours passed away pleasantly, in talking and dreams of happiness, and Don Valentine shared the joy of his two children. Don Torribio, since the official announcement of Doña Concha's marriage, had not been seen again either at San Julian or Carmen, to the great amazement of everybody. Mercedes, gentle and simple, had become the friend, almost the sister of Concha. The frank and pealing laugh of the girls cheered the echoes of the house, and caused the capataz to grow pensive, for, at the sight of the bomberos' sister, he had felt his heart turn towards her, like the heliotrope to the sun. Don Blas, resembling a soul in purgatory, prowled round Mercedes at a distance, to look at her unperceived. Everybody at the estancia had observed the worthy man's distress, and he alone, in spite of his heavy sighs, did not know what it all meant. They ventured to ridicule him, though without wounding his feelings, and laugh at his singular ways.
One fresh November morning, shortly after sunrise, there was a great commotion at the estancia of San Julian. Several horses, held by black slaves, were stamping impatiently at the foot of the steps; servants were running backwards and forwards; and Don Blas, dressed in his best clothes, was awaiting his master's arrival.