"What!" the tigrero interrupted him, "Those skins belong to you, and I have no claim to them, as you killed the beasts."
"Pooh!" the hunter said with a laugh, "I am not a tigrero, except by accident; the skins are yours, and fairly so; so you had better take them."
"Since that is the case I will not decline; but as for my part, I promised to give my foster sister the skins to make a rug, I will beg her to accept them."
"Very good," she answered, giving the hunter a look which filled him with joy; "they will remind me of the fearful danger I incurred, and the way in which I escaped it."
"That is settled, then," the hunter said; "and I will; cut down with my machete some branches to form a litter."
"Caray, that is an idea which would not have occurred to me," Mariano remarked, with a laugh; "but it is very simple. To work."
Hunters and trappers are skilful and most expeditious men; in a few minutes Mariano had skinned the jaguars, and Stronghand formed the litter; the skins, after being carefully folded, were securely fastened on the back of Bigote, who did not at all like the burden imposed on him; but after a while he made up his mind to put up with it. Stronghand covered the litter with leaves and grass, over which he laid the saddlecloth of the horse the jaguars had devoured; then he requested the young lady to seat herself on this soft divan, which was so suddenly improvised, and the two men, taking it on their strong shoulders, started in the direction of the hacienda, joined by Bigote, who trotted in front with glad barks.
Although the hunters had, from excess of precaution, formed torches of ocote wood to help them, the darkness was so complete—the trees were so close together—that it was with extreme difficulty that they succeeded in advancing in this inextricable labyrinth. Forced to take continual detours—obliged at times to walk in water up to their waists—deafened by the discordant cries of the birds, which the flash of the torches aroused—they saw all around them the wild beasts flying, with hoarse roars and eyes glaring through the darkness. It was then that Doña Marianna fully comprehended what frightful peril she had escaped, and how certain her death would have been, had not the hunter come to her assistance with such noble self-devotion; and at the remembrance of all that had occurred, and which was now but a dream, a convulsive tremor passed over her limbs, and she felt as if she were about to faint. Stronghand, who seemed to guess what was going on in the maiden's mind, frequently spoke to her, in order to change the current of her ideas by compelling her to answer him. They had been marching for a long distance, and the forest seemed as savage as when they started.
"Do you believe," Doña Marianna asked, "that we are on the right road?"
"Even admitting, señora, what might be possible," the hunter answered, "that Mariano and myself were capable of falling into an error, we have with us an infallible guide in Bigote, who, you may be quite certain, will not lead us astray."