The day passed at the hacienda without further incidents. The count made several attempts to have a conversation with the doña, which she constantly sought to avoid.
Blas Vasquez, on quitting the colony, struck the Guaymas road, and made his troop go at a sharp trot, through fear of a surprise. He had scarce lost sight of the colony, and entered the tall grass, when two men, leaping into the middle of the path, checked their horses about twenty paces ahead of him. One of them was an Indian; the other the capataz recognised at a glance as the man who had come to the hacienda that morning. Vasquez commanded his men to halt, and advancing alone to meet the stranger, said,—
"By what accident do I meet you here, señor Francés? You are still far from the meeting place you indicated yourself."
"We are so," was the reply; "but as we found no Apache trail in the prairie we thought it useless to give you a long journey. I have been sent to conduct you to the ambush we have chosen."
"You did right. Have we far to go?"
"No, hardly a quarter of an hour's ride. We are going to that islet, which you can see by standing in your stirrups," he added, stretching out his arm in the direction of the river.
"Eh?" the capataz said. "The spot is well chosen: we can command the river from there."
"That is the reason why he selected it."
"Be good enough, then, to serve as our guide, señor Francés: we will follow you."
The detachment set out again. As Don Louis had stated, within a quarter of an hour the capataz and the peons were encamped on the islet with the five adventurers, so well masked by grassland mangroves, that it was impossible to see them from either bank of the river.