And he fainted.
CHAPTER IX.
THE CATARACTS OF THE MADEIRA.
"On! on!" Martin Paz had exclaimed. And without saying a word, Don Vegal followed the Indian. His daughter!—he must find again his daughter! Mules were brought, prepared for a long journey among the Cordilleras; the two men mounted them, wrapped in their ponchos; large gaiters were attached by thongs above their knees; immense stirrups, armed with long spurs, surrounded their feet, and broad-brimmed Guayaquil hats sheltered their heads. Arms filled the holsters of each saddle; a carbine, formidable in the hands of Don Vegal, was suspended at his side. Martin Paz had encircled himself with his lasso, one extremity of which was fixed to the harness of his mule.
The Spaniard and the Indian spurred their horses to their utmost speed. At the moment of leaving the walls of the city they were joined by an Indian equipped like themselves. It was Liberta—Don Vegal recognized him; the faithful servant wished to share in their pursuit.
Martin Paz knew all the plains, all the mountains, which they were to traverse; he knew among what savage tribes, into what desert country the Sambo had conveyed his betrothed. His betrothed! he no longer dared give this name to the daughter of Don Vegal.
"My son," said the latter, "have you any hope in your heart?"
"As much as hatred and tenderness."
"The daughter of the Jew, in becoming my blood, has not ceased to be thine."
"Let us press on!" hastily replied Martin Paz.