And he fell back into his silence, from which the count did not deem it necessary to draw him. As Moonshine had said, within two hours the horses were resaddled, and they set out again, after eating a biscuit and a strip of tasajo, and drinking a draught of spirits. The count could only succeed in making his friend swallow a few mouthfuls, by representing to him that he must keep up his strength. His grief was intensely gloomy. This time they rode a long distance, and only halted at one o'clock p.m. in a clearing.
"We will wait for Oliver here," the hunter said, as he dismounted.
Don Aníbal raised his head.
"Will he come soon?" he asked, with considerable eagerness.
"I do not know. That will depend on the information he may have picked up."
"Nonsense," said Don Aurelio Gutiérrez, who had joined the party through his warm affection for the hacendero, "he will not be long."
"My hacienda is not very far from here, señor," the count said. "There would be time to send someone to fetch Don Melchior."
Moonshine made a sign to Diego López, gave him an order in a low voice, and the latter at once went off.
"Where are we?" Don Aurelio asked. "I do not know at all. What is that river running down there between the cottonwood trees?"
"We are on the Indian border, señor, and that river you can see from here is the Río Bravo del Norte, which serves as a limit between Mexico and the great Indian prairies."