"I am glad to hear it; but," added he slowly, and emphatically, "your inability to sleep made me anxious about you."
The vaquero took the hint, shut his eyes without another word, and did not open them again till daylight.
Don Fernando was already alert, and had saddled the horses. "Aha! Awake at last?" said he.
"Have you slept well?"
"Capitally; only I feel a little numb. Gentle exercise would soon restore the circulation."
"The effects of the dew," said the hunter imperturbably; "the nights are cold."
"The devil!" said the vaquero, grinning. "I hope I shall not catch the rheumatism."
"I think not. The ride will do you good."
While he said this, Don Fernando had hoisted his companion on his shoulders, and thrown him across one of the horses. But on second thoughts, he freed his legs, and set him upright in the saddle; reflecting that useless cruelty would only harden the man against him, who could give such precious information when the proper moment arrived. The vaquero, who feared he was about to make the journey slung over the horse like a bale of merchandise, felt grateful for the half-liberty allowed him, and made no objection when Don Fernando took the precaution of buckling his legs together under his horse's belly.
In this manner the two men rode to the camp, talking on different matters, and apparently the best friends in the world.