As he had warned him, the Captain intimated to the guide that he was to ride by his side, and, so far as was possible, did not let him out of sight for a second.
The latter did not appear at all troubled by this annoying inquisition; he rode along quite as gaily as heretofore, smoking his husk cigarette, and whistling fragments of jarabés between his teeth.
The forest began gradually to grow clearer, the openings became more numerous, and the eye embraced a wider horizon; all led to the presumption that they would soon reach the limits of the covert.
Still, the ground began rising slightly on both sides, and the path the conducta followed grew more and more hollow, in proportion as it advanced.
"Are we already reaching the spurs of the mountains?" the Captain asked.
"Oh, no, not yet," the guide answered.
"Still we shall soon be between two hills?"
"Yes, but of no height."
"That is true; still, if I am not mistaken, we shall have to pass through a defile."
"Yes, but of no great length."