By the aid of the ranchero, Red Cedar presently succeeded in freeing himself from the fold of the cloak that embarrassed him. When the three accomplices found themselves alone again an expression of impotent rage and deadly hatred distorted their faces.
"Oh!" the squatter muttered, grinding his teeth, and raising his fist to heaven, "I will be revenged."
"And I too," said Fray Ambrosio in a hollow voice, as he wiped away the blood that stained his face.
"Hum! I do not care," Andrés Garote said to himself aside. "That family of the Zarates is a fine one; but, caray! it must be confessed that Don Pablo is a rough fellow."
The worthy ranchero was the only one chance had favoured in this meeting by letting him escape safe and sound.
[CHAPTER III.]
THE HUNTERS.
At about two leagues from Santa Fe, in a clearing situated on the banks of the stream which borders that town, and on the evening of the same day, a man was seated before a large fire, which he carefully kept up, while actively engaged in making preparations for supper. A frugal meal, at any rate, this supper! It was composed of a buffalo hump, a few potatoes, and maize tortillas baked on the ashes, the whole washed down with pulque.
The night was gloomy. Heavy black clouds coursed athwart the sky, at times intercepting the sickly rays of the moon, which only shed an uncertain light over the landscape, which was itself buried in one of those dense mists that, in equatorial countries, exhale from the ground after a hot day. The wind blew violently through the trees, whose branches came in contact, with plaintive moans: and in the depths of the woods the miawling of the wild cats was mingled with the snarl of the coyotes and the howls of the pumas and jaguars. All at once the sound of galloping horses could be heard in the forest, and two riders burst into the clearing. On seeing them the hunter uttered an exclamation of joy, and hurried to meet them. They were Don Pablo and Curumilla.