"Not so," exclaimed the girl resolutely. "I want no one here. You would miss the man you wish to leave with me. Give me a pistol, to defend myself in case of attack, and go."
"Nevertheless, señorita—"
"It is my will," she peremptorily exclaimed. "Go, and God be with you!"
The hacendero convulsively pressed his daughter to his bosom.
"Courage, my father!" she cried, while she embraced him; "Courage; all will end well."
She took a pistol from him, and left him, waving her adieu.
The hunter for the last time warned his companions to be cautious; and the men set off, following his exact footsteps in the forest.
After marching half an hour in Indian file, they saw the fires of the Apaches glimmering close by.
At a sign from the hunter, the Mexicans threw themselves on the ground, and began to crawl forward in silence, advancing with extreme precaution inch by inch, their ears on the watch, and ready to fire at the first suspicious movement of the enemy.
But nothing stirred: most of the Apaches slept, plunged, as Stoneheart had asserted, in the brutal drunkenness caused by the abuse of the firewater.