"Go to the deuce! I want to sleep, I tell you."
"Very good," Don Martial made answer coldly; "but if you and Doña Anita fall into the hands of the Apaches you will not make me responsible for it?"
"Eh?" the hacendero said, jumping up, and looking him in the face, "What are you saying about Apaches?"
"I tell you again that the Apaches are in pursuit of us. We are only a few hours ahead of them, and if we do not make haste we are lost."
"Canarios! We must fly," Don Sylva exclaimed, now thoroughly awake. "My daughter must not fall into the hands of those demons."
As for Doña Anita, little troubled her at this moment. She was fast asleep.
"Let the horses eat, and then we will start. We have a long way to go, and they must be able to bear us. These few moments of rest will allow Doña Anita to regain her strength."
"Poor child!" the hacendero muttered, "I am the cause of what has happened. My unlucky obstinacy brought us here."
"What use is recrimination, Don Sylva? We are all to blame. Let us forget the past, only to think of the present."
"Yes, you are right. What need discussing things that are done? Now that I am perfectly awake, tell me what you did during the night, and why you forced us to start so suddenly."