The squadron was perhaps ten minutes or a quarter of an hour passing him, for there were, as he had conjectured by the sound, while they were yet at a distance, above a hundred of them—in fact, he reckoned about a score beyond that number—and they rode in very open order, and not much faster than a foot pace.
Pierre listened to every word that fell from their lips.
The next glance showed him that his life had not been worth a dollar's purchase had he fully arisen to his feet, for he needed nothing to tell him that the eyes of the two who now passed him—eyes wandering suspiciously at every step of their horses through the forest about them—were very different to encounter from those of the mere troopers who had hitherto passed by him.
These two men were of a wildly different aspect from the rest, and from each other also, though one of them was clad, except that the materials were richer, in the same costume with the men who preceded him.
The other, who rode a little the foremost of the two, and the nearest to the Partisan, was a little old shrivelled man. Yet within that frail and meagre frame, hardened as it was, and exercised into a mere mass of compact bone and sinew, it was easy to perceive that there resided a world of untamed youthful spirit, and all the strength of manhood.
"Now, Padre," exclaimed the younger, "for the love of God, let us set spurs to our horses and get the troop forward at a quicker pace. At this rate, we shall not reach the open ground before day-break; and, in that case, they will have the start of us."
"Not so, not so, Juan," replied the old man, in a clear, hard voice. "If our information be correct, and there be a lady with them, as I doubt not it is, they will have halted for the night, and the later we come upon the ground, the more chance of finding them."
They continued speaking as they rode along; but these were all the words that reached the ears of the Partisan. No more did he require, however, to inform him of all that he wished to know.
So soon as the clatter of their passage had died away into the ordinary silence of the woods, the Partisan hurried back to join his friends, who were awaiting his return in no small anxiety, at least, not to say trepidation.
"All is well," he exclaimed, as soon as he came into ear-shot of the little party; "all is well. It is Padre Taranta and young Juan de Alava, and troop. They are in search of us, too."