He shook his head doubtfully, and fell back into his meditations.
"Are you ready to start?" Moonshine asked the two gentlemen on seeing them.
"At once?" the count asked.
"Well, that will be better for what we have to do."
"Have we the time to go and fetch our horses?"
"Your peon has brought them."
Fifteen adventurers, already mounted, were waiting, motionless and silent. They were men with bold features and a resolute air, whose bronzed faces testified to the fatigue they had endured in their rough profession. A few minutes later the little band quitted the camp at a gallop, and went out into the plain under the guidance of Moonshine. It was a cold night, as most American nights are. The men wrapped themselves carefully in their cloaks, to escape being saturated by the chilling dew, which fell upon them in an abundance unknown in our climate; and they rode sharply till sunrise without exchanging a word. At about four in the morning they halted to give their horses a rest.
"Are we going to stop?" Don Aníbal asked. These were the first words he had spoken since they started.
"Only for two hours," the hunter said.
"Very well."