There prevailed at this moment among these bandits an agitation that presaged some mysterious expedition.
Some were cleaning and loading their arms, others mending their clothes; some were smoking and drinking mezcal, others were asleep, folded in their ragged cloaks.
The horses, all saddled and ready for mounting, were fastened to pickets.
At stated distances, sentinels, leaning on their long rifles, silent and motionless as statues of bronze, watched over the safety of all.
The dying flashes of the fires, which were expiring by degrees, threw a reddish reflection upon this picture that gave the pirates a still fiercer aspect.
The captain appeared a prey to extreme anxiety; he walked with long strides among his subordinates, stamping his foot with anger, and stopping at intervals to listen to the sound of the prairies.
The night became darker and darker, the moon had disappeared, the wind moaned hoarsely among the hills, and the pirates had eventually fallen asleep one after another.
The captain alone still watched.
All at once he fancied that he heard at a distance the report of firearms, then a second, and all again was silent.
"What does this mean?" the captain murmured, angrily; "have my rascals allowed themselves to be surprised?"