"Oh, oh," he said to him, with a loud laugh, "how gloomy you are, Captain! did you see three owls flying on your right? The pagans assert that such is an evil omen."
"Perhaps so," the Captain drily replied.
The tone in which the remark was uttered had nothing friendly or inviting about it. The monk understood that any conversation at this moment was impossible; he took the hint, bit his lips, and continued to ride silently by his companion's side.
An hour later they reached the bivouac; neither the monk nor the officer had said a word; but the nearer they came to the spot selected for the halt, the more anxious each seemed to grow.
[CHAPTER XV.]
THE HALT.
The sun had almost entirely disappeared on the horizon at the moment when the caravans reached the halting ground.
This spot, situated on the top of a rather scarped hill, had been selected with that sagacity which distinguishes Texan or Mexican arrieros; any surprise was impossible, and the aged trees that grew on the crest of the hill would, in the event of an attack, offer a secure protection against bullets.
The mules were unloaded, but, contrary to the usual custom, the bales, instead of being employed as a breastwork for the camp, were piled up and placed out of reach of the marauders whom chance or cupidity might attract to this quarter when the darkness had set in.
Seven or eight large fires were lit in a circle, in order to keep off wild beasts; the mules received their ration of Indian corn on mantas or horsecloths laid on the ground; then, so soon as sentinels were posted round the camp, the troopers and arrieros were busily engaged in preparing the poor supper, which the day's fatigues rendered necessary.