Don Torribio Quiroga and Don José Kalbris urged on their horses, in order to get beyond the defences of the presidio as soon as possible.
The governor was rejoicing at the reinforcement the general commanding in the province had sent him. He knew it would be an easy task to compel the Indians to raise the siege of the presidio when once the troops marching up had joined him. Indeed, he counted upon profiting by the opportunity to give the Apaches—those untiring ravagers of the Mexican frontiers—such a rude lesson, that it would be long before they again attempted an inroad into the territory of the Confederation.
They now arrived at one of the barriers, guarded by a strong detachment of vaqueros and townspeople.
"We must pass through here," said Don Torribio to the governor. "The night is dark, bands of these Indian vagabonds are prowling about all over the country, and we shall most probably have to ride a league or two before we meet our men. I think it will be scarcely prudent for us to venture forth without an escort."
"A very just remark," said Don José.
"You must recollect that you are the governor of the presidio," continued Don Torribio, with a strange smile. "The consequences would be very serious for the town if the Indians were to attack us, and take us prisoners. I do not mention this on my own account, but on yours: I should be a prize of little value to the savages; but with you it is a very different matter. I beg you to consider this carefully, before we go any farther."
"By heaven! You are quite right colonel; it would be an unpardonable imprudence. So I think the best thing we can do is to take an escort."
"I think it would be advantageous," said Don Torribio. "How many men will you take?"
"Oh, a dozen, at the most."