"Well, well, child; I give you a month to finish your caterwauling. That time passed, we will resume our conversation. Adieu."
"Adieu. Are you bound for the presidio?"
"No; I return to my village, where, too, I have a little matter of business; for, unless I am mistaken, curious things have happened since I left it."
"Do you dread a revolt there against your power?"
"I do not dread, I wish it," was the enigmatical answer.
The old man then bid the Mexican farewell, mounted his horse, and rode into the thicket.
Don Fernando stood there some time, plunged in serious thought, listening mechanically to the sound of the horse's hoofs as they died away in the distance. When he could no longer hear them, he turned his head in the direction Tigercat had taken.
"Go," said he hoarsely; "go, savage, in the belief that I have not discovered your project. I will dig a mine under your feet to explode and crush you. I will foil your attempt. I would dare more than man dares to baffle your machinations. It is three o'clock," he continued, after looking at the sky, from which the stars were fading out; "I shall have time."
He called his horse and mounted, took the direction of Don Estevan's rancho, and recommenced his headlong course across the wilderness.
The horse, fresh from his long rest, stretched himself out freely; and daylight was just beginning to appear when they reached the rancho.