"What is the matter with you, niña?" he asked, in evident alarm.
"Silence, Mariano!" she answered in a low voice, and laying her finger on her lips; "All is quiet, at least I suppose so, but I wish to speak with you."
"Go on, tocaya," he replied, as he leaped from the hammock and folded it up.
"Yes, but I am sorry at having woken you; you were sleeping so soundly, that I looked at you for nearly a quarter of an hour ere I dared to disturb your rest; for sleep is such a blessed thing."
"Nonsense," he answered with a laugh; "you were wrong, niña; we wood rangers sleep so quickly that an hour is sufficient to rest us, and if I am not mistaken, I have been lying down for more than two. Hence speak, niña; I am attentive, and shall not miss a word of what you say to me."
The young lady reflected for a moment.
"You love me, I think, Mariano?" she at length said, with a certain hesitation in her voice.
"Like a sister, niña," he said, warmly; "in truth, are we not tocayo and tocaya? Why ask such a question?"
"Because I want you to do me an important service."
"Me, niña? ¡Caray! Do not be alarmed; I am devoted to you body and soul, and whatever you may ask—"