"You are very late," said the hacendero.
"I have traversed six leagues since I left you," replied the hunter; "but that is no matter. A man, whose name you need not know at present, has resolved to prevent your reaching the hacienda. A party of Apaches is on our trail. All my precautions have not availed to conceal our tracks from these cunning demons, whose piercing eyes would detect in the air the trail of the eagle's flight. They are encamped close by; they are preparing rafts and canoes to attack you."
"Are there many of them?" inquired the hacendero.
"No; not above a score at most, of whom only six or seven are armed with rifles; the rest have but bows and lances. Knowing you to be without arms, or at least believing so, they count upon carrying you off without striking a blow."
"Who is the man who is so inveterate against us?"
"What is that to you? He is a strange and mysterious being, whose life is one continual round of dark conspiracies; his mind is an abyss which no one has dared to sound, the depths of which even he himself, who fears nothing in the world, would dread to fathom. But enough of him. You are to be attacked in two hours; three chances of escape from the fate prepared for you are open to you."
"And what are these chances?" said the hacendero.
"The first is, to remain here, await the attack, and make a vigorous resistance. The Apaches, alarmed at finding armed and on their guard the men whom they hoped to surprise weaponless and defenceless, may lose courage, and retreat."
Doña Hermosa, aroused by the sound of voices, had approached, and was listening attentively.
The hacendero shook his head. "The chance seems hazardous," he said; "for if our enemies succeeded in setting foot on the rock, they would overpower us by dint of numbers, and make themselves masters of our persons."