“It is as I thought. There is no one here. Come; in five minutes we will be clear of the mountain,” cried Canelo, joyously, and closely followed by Tadeo Campos, pushed through the yielding screen of bushes, and after a few steps they entered a spacious chamber, excavated from the earth.
Numerous large, lustrous eyes, in pairs, were turned toward them, and when Canelo lighted the lamp that he had brought with him from the cell, the glow showed them the sleek forms of a large number of horses, standing in rude stalls, with their accouterments ranged along the other side of the “stable.” A few moments sufficed to saddle and bridle the two animals they had selected, and then once more extinguishing the light, they led their steeds out along the way they had entered, and in a few minutes were clear of the hill and speeding along the valley.
After riding some miles in silence, they drew in their horses to a walk to breath them, and Canelo broke the silence by saying:
“But you have not told me yet how it was you learned I was a prisoner, and where they had confined me. How was it?”
“Well, in the first place, I overheard a conversation between master Felipe, or rather he who passes as such, and a precious scoundrel who called himself Don Lopez Romulo—”
“Barajo; he goes by both names.”
“Yes. And I then learned that the young man was an impostor, and that you were yet alive. He did not then hint that you were a prisoner; that I learned afterward. Well, this Romulo or Barajo gave Don Felipe an address at Guanajuato, where he was to call and pay him a lot of money to keep the secret he had got hold of. I heard the address and resolved to be at the meeting.
“When the night came, I was hanging round the venta, which was in a low part of the city just at the outside edge. I waited until Don Romulo came out, jingling his pocketfull of golden ounces, and after following him until he came to a dark alley, I gave him a few inches of cold steel, and dragged him into the alley, out of the way, and where I would not be interrupted by any person passing by.
“I had not intended to kill him at once, but only disable him, and then frighten him into telling where I could find you, and any thing else that might be of service. He was badly hurt, and it was not hard to frighten him into doing as I wished, for the beggar vowed that he was not fit to die, and I did not spare my threats.
“Somehow he mistook me for one Ventura—Tomas Ventura—who had once belonged to his band, and told me all that I wanted to know. That you were kept a prisoner by him and a priest, who had forced you to write the letter given to Felipe, and make him believe that you was dying; and the place where I would find the band.