"That depends upon who they are."
"You know them very well, señor: one of them is the Tigercat—a most amiable caballero."
"And you will undertake to lead me to him?"
"Whenever you please: this very instant if you like."
Don Fernando replaced the pistol in his belt. "Not directly. No," he said; "we must first report ourselves at the camp, where my friends expect me. I find you are not quite so ill as I thought; and I need not administer my remedy just now. We can always fall back upon it some other time, if it is necessary."
"I can assure you, there is no hurry at all," replied the vaquero, trying an engaging smile.
Thus the business was concluded between the two men, who, knowing each other for a long time were perfectly aware of what each could expect from the other. Don Fernando put no faith in Tonillo; so he took good care to remove all temptation to stray from his side, by leaving him bound as he was—a proceeding against which the vaquero did not remonstrate.
But as night had fallen while they were talking, they made such arrangements as they could for sleeping where they were, giving up all idea of rejoining the camp until the morrow. Two or three times in the course of the night the vaquero surreptitiously tried to free himself from the bonds in which he lay; but each time he endeavoured to put his project into execution, he saw the large blue eyes of the hunter fixed steadfastly upon him.
"Do you still feel indisposed?" he asked, the last time the prisoner made his attempt.
"Not at all!" replied the vaquero hastily; "Not at all."