"Daughter," exclaimed Don Pedro, "you are mad! Remember, we are going to expose ourselves to almost certain death."
"Be it so, my father," she replied, with feverish energy; "our fate is in the hands of God, whose protection has been so evident thus far, that I believe He will not abandon us now."
"The señorita is right," cried the capataz; "let us smoke these demons out of their lair. This hunter, to whom I make my most humble apologies for having suspected his loyalty for an instant, will supply us with the means of arriving, without being discovered, at the camp of the Apaches."
"I can but do my best," said the hunter modestly.
"Let us go, then, since needs must," said the hacendero, with a sigh.
The peones, who had not mingled in the conversation, seized their rifles with an air of determination which proved them resolved to do their duty.
"Follow me," said the hunter, lighting a torch of ocote wood, to show the way.
Without another word, the Mexicans plunged into the depth of the cavern, taking with them the horses whose strength had been thoroughly recruited by their rest of so many hours.
They continued pushing their way through the subterranean passage. Overhead they heard the dull and ceaseless noise of the waters; thousands of night birds, dazzled by the unwonted light of the torch, awoke from their slumbers, and wheeled around, uttering mournful and discordant cries.
At the end of half an hour's rapid march, the hunter halted.