"Is it not incomprehensible?" Don Gregorio replied; "we can none of us account for it."
"Are we far from the city?"
"A league at most."
"Let us hasten on, then;" and the troop set off at a gallop.
This time Don Tadeo and his friend rode side by side, talking as they went, in a low voice of the means to be taken to thwart the attempts of General Bustamente. Don Tadeo had recovered all his coolness. His ideas had again become clear. One man alone was a stranger to all we have related. This was Don Ramón Sandias. The poor senator, soaked with rain, terrified at the storm, and muffled in his cloak up to the eyes, seemed to live quite mechanically. He only wished for one thing, and that was to gain some place of shelter; so he kept on and on, without knowing what he did, or whether the others followed him or not. He arrived in this manner at Valdivia, and was about to pass on when he was stopped by a man who seized his bridle.
"Hola? eh, caballero, are you asleep?" a rough voice cried.
He started with fear, and ventured to uncover one eye.
"No," he said, in a hoarse voice; "on the contrary, I am but too wide awake."
"Where do you come from, alone, so late?" the man who had before spoken continued.
"What do you mean by 'alone'?" said Don Ramón, recovering his spirits a little—"do you take my companions for nothing?"