The night was dark. Here and there the dying watch fires in the presidio, round which the besieged were sleeping, threw a pale and uncertain glimmer over the surrounding objects, without affording sufficient light to guide them through the increasing obscurity.
A mournful silence brooded over the town, interrupted at intervals by the hoarse cries of the vultures, urubus, and prairie wolves, quarrelling over the corpses of the slain, and dragging hither and thither morsels of bleeding flesh.
The three pushed resolutely forward amidst the ruins, stumbling over fragments of fallen walls, striding over dead bodies, and disturbing the horrid feast of the birds of prey, that flew off uttering screams of anger.
Thus they traversed the whole length of the town, and arrived at last, with desperate difficulty, and after making many circuits, at one of the barriers opposite the camp of the redskins, from which numberless fires were glancing, and shouts and songs were heard.
The sentries, after exchanging a few words with their guide, allowed the three to pass, a few paces farther on, Don Estevan halted, and stopped his companions.
"Look, Doña Hermosa," said he in a whisper; "there is the camp of the redskins before you. If I went farther with you, my escort would prove fatal. I must stop here: only a few steps separate you from your object."
"Thanks!" said the girl, stretching out her hand. Don Estevan retained it between his own.
"Señorita, one word more."
"Speak, dear friend."
"I conjure you, in the name of all you hold dear in the world, to renounce your project. Trust to my experience while it is yet time: return to the Hacienda del Cormillo; you know not the danger to which you expose yourself."