"Oh, oh!" the count said thoughtfully.
"Believe me, señor conde," the capataz continued. "Do not venture with your brave soldiers into this implacable desert: not one of you will leave it again."
"Still the Apaches are men too: they are not braver or better mounted than we, I may say."
"They are not."
"Well, they cross the Del Norte from north to south, from east to west, and that, not once a year or ten times, but continually, whenever the fancy takes them."
"But do you know at what price, señor conde? Have you counted the corpses they leave along the road to mark their passage? And then you cannot compare yourselves with the Pagans: the desert possesses no secrets for them. They know its furthest mysteries."
"Then," the count exclaimed impatiently, "your impression is—"
"That in bringing you here, and attacking you two days ago, the Apaches laid a trap for you. They wish to entice you after them into the desert; certain not merely that you will not catch them, but that you and all your men will leave your bones there."
"Still you agree with me, my dear Don Blas, that it is very extraordinary there is not among all your peons one capable of guiding us in this desert. Hang it, they are Mexicans!"
"Yes excellency, but I have more than once had the honour of observing to you that all these men are costeños, or inhabitants of the seaboard. They never before came so far into the interior."