They were silent as if by common agreement, and were absorbed in thought. White Gazelle gave her companion one of those bright womanly glances that read to the bottom of the heart; a smile played round her cherry lips, and she shook her head maliciously. Singular thoughts doubtless fermented in her head.
At about two of the tarde, as they say in Spanish countries, they reached a ford on a small river, on the other side of which the huts of Bloodson's camp could be seen at a distance of about two leagues. White Gazelle halted, and at the moment her companion was about to take to the water, she laid her little hand on his bridle, and checked him, saying, in a soft but firm voice: "Before we go further, a word if you please, caballero."
Don Pablo looked at her in surprise, but made no attempt to remove the obstacle.
"I am listening to you, señorita," he said, with a bow.
"I know why you are going to Bloodson's camp," she continued.
"I doubt it," he said, with a shake of the head.
"Boy! This morning, when I was talking with Don Valentine, you were lying at our feet."
"I was."
"If your eyes were shut, your ears were open."
"What do you mean?"