It was at the foot of one of these hillocks that the chief stopped. He immediately alighted, rubbed down his horse carefully, covered him with his poncho, to prevent his chilling after the violent exercise to which he had been for so long a time subject, and, throwing the bridle on his neck, he left him free to browse, if he liked, on the scanty and withered grass of the savannah.
This accomplished, the chief put his hands to his mouth, and three distinct times, at equal intervals, he imitated the cry of the screech owl of the Pampas.
Two or three minutes passed. The same cry was repeated three times at a considerable distance, and then the precipitate gallop of a horse was heard.
The chief hid himself as well as he could behind the hillock, loaded his carbine, and waited.
Soon he perceived the outline of a horseman emerging from the darkness, and rapidly approaching the place where he was.
Having come a certain distance, the horseman, in place of continuing to advance, stopped short, and the cry of the screech owl again broke upon the silence of night.
The Cougar repeated his signal; the horseman, if he had only waited for this answer, immediately resumed his gallop, and soon found himself within pistol shot of the Indian.
A second time he stopped, and the sound of a gun being loaded was heard.
"Who goes there?" cried a firm voice, in Spanish.
"A friend of the desert," immediately answered the chief.