"Is it not?"
"Yes; but she must be somewhere, I suppose?" the squatter said with a coarse laugh.
"She has gone with her father to a hunt of wild horses."
"The hunt is over and they are on their return."
"You are well informed."
"It is my trade. Come, do you still mean serving me?"
"I must."
"That is how I like you. There cannot be many people at the hacienda?"
"A dozen at the most."
"Better still. Listen to me: it is now four in the afternoon. I have a ride to take. Return to the hacienda, and I will come there this evening at nine, with twenty resolute men. You will open the little gate of the corral, and leave me to act. I'll answer for all."