This was not an easy matter in these countries calcined by a devouring sun, and covered with a sand as fine as dust. I, however, after a long search, discovered a miserable tree, in the shade of which a very scanty vegetation had sprung up.
I was about to dismount, when my ear was struck with the distant sound of the steps of a horse, which appeared to be following the same route as myself, and which advanced rapidly.
I remained motionless.
Meeting with a horseman at night in the Mexican plains always suggests ample matter for reflection.
The stranger we meet with may be an honest man, but it would be a safer wager to lay that he is a rogue.
In this state of doubt, I cocked my revolver, and waited.
My waiting was not long.
At the end of five minutes the horseman came up to me.
"Buenas noches, caballero," (Good evening, sir,) said he, as he passed.
There was something so frank in the tone in which this salute was, as it were, thrown at me, that my suspicions vanished instantly.