"Bad," he answered, distinctly.
"I expected it," the officer muttered, with a sad toss of the head; "we must put on our harness again, and push out into the savannah, in order to prove to these bandits that we are able to punish them."
The hunter shook his head several times, but said nothing. The Captain looked at him attentively for some minutes.
"What is the matter, my friend?" he at length asked him, with growing anxiety; "I never saw you so sad and gloomy before."
"The reason is," he answered, "because circumstances have never been so serious."
"Explain yourself, my friend; I confess to you that you are really beginning to alarm me. With the exception of a few insignificant marauders, the borders have never appeared to me more quiet."
"It is a deceitful calm, Don Marcos, which contains the tempest in its bosom—and a terrible tempest, I, assure you."
"And yet our spies are all agreed in assuring us that the Indians are not at all thinking of an expedition."
"It proves that your spies betray you, that's all."
"Possibly so; but still, I should like some proof or sign."