The two men proceeded a few steps silently side by side. Zeno Cabral was reflecting, and Don Juan Armero respectfully waited till his chief should address him.
"Well," the partisan asked, "what is this news, Don Juan? You can without fear tell me here."
"Just so, general," he answered. "I have been, as you know, on a journey of discovery. The Brazilian army has left its cantonments in the Banda Oriental; a division of this army is advancing by forced marches in this direction to take possession of the fords of the rivers, and the mouths of the defiles, so as to permit a second division, which follows it at a day's march behind, to invade Tucumán."
"Oh! Oh!" murmured the partisan, "That is, indeed, serious. Is this news reliable?"
"Yes, general."
"Well, go on; but just a word—have you learned by what general this Brazilian division is commanded?"
"Yes, general."
"And his name is?" he asked.
"It is the Marquis Don Roque de Castelmelhor."
Something like a smile crossed the austere face of the Montonero, and gave him an inexpressible look of hope and hatred.