"That is not exactly what you said to me. Go on, however."
"The Indians, when they camp on the white man's border, never light a fire, for fear of revealing their presence; or if compelled to light one in order to cook their food, they are most careful to diminish the flame, in the first place by digging a deep hole in the ground, and next by only using extremely dry wood, which burns without crackling, flaming, or producing smoke, and which they carry with them for long distances, in case they might not find it on their road."
"But, my friend, that fire is scarce visible."
"That is true; but still it is sufficiently so for us to have perceived it a long distance off, and thus discovered the existence of a bivouac at this spot which, under present circumstances, would entail the surprise and consequent death of the imprudent men who lit it, if they were Indians instead of hunters."
"Excellently reasoned, compañero, and like a man accustomed to a desert life!" A rough, though good-humoured voice suddenly said, a few yards from them.
The travellers started and pulled up sharply, while anxiously investigating the surrounding thickets. Mariano, however, did not lose his head under these critical circumstances; but with a movement swift as thought raised his rifle, and covered a man who was standing by the side of a thicket, with his hands crossed on the muzzle of a long gun.
"Hold, compadre!" the stranger continued, not at all disturbed by the tigrero's hostile demonstration; "Pay attention to what you are about. A thousand fiends! Do you know that you run a risk of killing a friend?"
Mariano hesitated for a moment; and then, without raising his rifle, remarked—
"I fancy I recognise that voice."
"By Jove!" the other said, "It would be a fine joke if you did not."