“Señor!” Once more the hiss, and it seemed nearer.
“Well?” the caballero demanded, half angrily and in a questioning tone.
“It is a friend who would aid you.”
A handful of dry grass and leaves remained near the fire; now the caballero arose slowly, picked up the fuel and took a quick step toward the glowing coals.
“Not that, señor!” came the sudden warning. “Guards about the mission will see!”
The caballero hesitated, not knowing whether to treat the man in the darkness as friend or foe. Then he laughed lightly and dropped the grass and leaves.
“Approach, then, so I may see you!” he commanded.
He heard someone slipping through the mud. Gazing across the bed of coals he saw an Indian face come from the darkness, just the bare outline of a face half seen in the night—thick black hair bound back from the forehead, two piercing eyes, an aggressive chin. The Indian stooped so that the reflection from the dying fire illuminated his features for an instant.
At the point of speaking, the caballero felt his tongue seem to grow paralyzed. Beside the face of the Indian another had appeared—and another—another, until six faces peered at him from the darkness and six Indians squatted in the mud on the other side of the bed of coals.
“We have come, señor,” the spokesman said.