"What is the matter with Doña Anita?" the count asked with sympathy, so soon as she had gone.
"Vapours—headache—what do I know?" the hacendero replied, shrugging his shoulders. "All young girls are like that. In a few minutes she will have forgotten it."
"All the better. I confess to you that I was alarmed."
"But now that we are alone, would you not like me to give you the explanation of the enigma which appeared to interest you so much?"
"On the contrary, speak without further delay: for, on my part, I have several important matters to impart to you."
[CHAPTER III.]
THE TWO HUNTERS.
About five miles from the town is the village of San José de Guaymas, commonly known as the Rancho.
This miserable pueblo is merely composed of a square of moderate size, intersected at right angles by tumbledown cabins, which are inhabited by Hiaqui Indians (a large number of whom hire themselves out annually at Guaymas to work as porters, carpenters, masons, &c), and all those nameless adventurers who have thronged to the shores of the Pacific since the discovery of the Californian plains.