"An Indian never returns home till he has assured himself that all is in order. Who can foresee what has happened during his absence?"
"That is true; let us wait, then," the hacendero said, stifling a sigh.
Nearly an hour passed thus. All the partisans seated on their horses, with their finger on the trigger of their rifle, remained motionless as bronze statues. In the meanwhile the sun had set in a mist of vapour, the shadow spread gradually over the desert like a thick winding sheet, and the stars were slowly lit up in the dark blue sky. Still Unicorn did not return.
The hunters did not exchange a word; each, persuaded in his heart that the position was a serious one, was reflecting deeply. Not a sound was audible, save the hoarse and continuous rustling of the Rio Gila over the pebbles and rocks that border its banks.
Suddenly, Bloodson, whose eye had been obstinately fixed in the direction where the Comanche Chief had disappeared, gave a slight start and whispered in Don Miguel's ear:
"Here he is."
In fact, the gallop of a horse was heard gradually drawing nearer till the chief reappeared.
"Well?" the stranger shouted to him.
"Koutonepi and the pale virgin are in the village," he said; "the hunter has delivered the maiden."
"May Heaven be praised!" Don Miguel said, fervently.