"Oh! You do not understand, señor! It is the answer I expected. I suppose, likewise, you do not know the name of the person who accompanied me, and on whom the vaqueros fell with such indescribable fury?"
"I am perfectly ignorant as to who he was," said Don Torribio, quite unmoved.
"Better and better! Learn, then, that it was Don Fernando Carril who was killed." And he cast a look pregnant with irony at the man standing beside him.
"Don Fernando Carril!—killed!" exclaimed the latter, stupefied.
Don Estevan smiled disdainfully.
"Listen once more to this," he continued in threatening tones. "If Don Fernando is not brought to this hacienda within twenty-four hours, I will reveal to Don Pedro and his daughter the name of his assassin. I think you understand me this time?" And, overcome with grief, he sank half fainting on his couch.
Don Torribio remained a moment, annihilated with the words he had heard; but, immediately recovering his presence of mind, he quickly left the hacienda, and galloped into the plains, muttering as he rode:
"The Tigercat was right: there is nothing left for me but to seek the Barranca del Fraile."