“Yes, into two parties. Those of us whose horses are so done out with fatigue and thirst that they can scarcely drag one leg after the other, are to continue the route as they best can, while the others, whose steeds are fresher, are to push on in advance toward the river Guamini, which throws itself into Lake San Lucas about thirty-one miles off. If there should be water enough in the river, they are to wait on the banks till their companions reach them; but should it be dried up, they will hasten back and spare them a useless journey.”
“And what will we do then?” asked Austin.
“Then we shall have to make up our minds to go seventy-two miles south, as far as the commencement of the Sierra Ventana, where rivers abound.”
“It is wise counsel, and we will act upon it without loss of time. My horse is in tolerable good trim, and I volunteer to accompany Thalcave.”
“Oh, my Lord, take me,” said Robert, as if it were a question of some pleasure party.
“But would you be able for it, my boy?”
“Oh, I have a fine beast, which just wants to have a gallop. Please, my Lord, to take me.”
“Come, then, my boy,” said Glenarvan, delighted not to leave Robert behind. “If we three don’t manage to find out fresh water somewhere,” he added, “we must be very stupid.”
“Well, well, and what about me?” said Paganel.
“Oh, my dear Paganel, you must stay with the reserve corps,” replied the Major. “You are too well acquainted with the 37th parallel and the river Guamini and the whole Pampas for us to let you go. Neither Mulrady, nor Wilson, nor myself would be able to rejoin Thalcave at the given rendezvous, but we will put ourselves under the banner of the brave Jacques Paganel with perfect confidence.”