"Where?" the hunter asked.
"Over there," Don Estevan continued, pointing in the direction of a dense clump of trees.
The hunter turned his head quickly towards the spot indicated by the Mexican. The latter lost no time in seizing the pistol he had been playing with by the end. He raised it quickly, and dealt a blow with the butt on the hunter's head. The blow was given with such force and precision, that Brighteye stretched out his arms, closed his eyes, and rolled on the ground with a heavy sigh.
Don Estevan regarded him for a moment with an expression of contempt and satisfied hatred, "Idiot!" he muttered, kicking him aside, "you ought to have made those absurd conditions before saving me; but for the present it is too late. I am free, Cuerpo de Cristo! I will avenge myself."
After uttering these words, and looking up to heaven defiantly, he bent over the hunter, stripped him of his weapons without the slightest shame, and left him, not even stopping to see were he dead or only wounded. "It is you, accursed dog!" he went on, "who will die of hunger, or be devoured by wild beasts. As for myself, I no longer fear anything, for I have in my hands the means to accomplish my vengeance."
And the wretch walked hurriedly from the clearing to look for Brighteye's horse, which he intended to mount.
[CHAPTER XXII.]
THE CAMP.
The Gambusinos reached their camp a little before sunrise. During their absence, the few men left in charge of the entrenchments had not been disturbed.