"This is still on the portion of the map you had," she said.
He nodded. "It's new brush to me and thicker'n heel flies in spring. It takes a machete to get through."
Her finger was trailing on down the line, crossing the jagged tear in the paper, marking the spots noted on the second portion of the derrotero. "Llano Sacaguista, Puenta Piedra, Resaca Perdida—you don't know any of these?"
He shook his head. "I told you. I've never been down that way. I've heard of some. Puenta Piedra, for instance. There's supposed to be a natural stone bridge somewhere along the Rio Diablo. And most everybody in the brush has heard the tales about Lost Swamp."
"Puenta Piedra is beyond that thick brush," she said. "Why not skirt that section of the brasada until we strike Rio Diablo? If Puenta Piedra is somewhere along Rio Diablo, we should find it by following the river's course. Then maybe we can follow the chart from Puenta Piedra on down to the Snake Thickets."
"We won't get back before daylight," he said.
"I don't care." She rose with a toss of her head. "Let them know we've been hunting the chest. I told you there wasn't any time left to beat about the bush."
"And what have we got when we do reach Snake Thickets?" he said.
"Don't ask me!" She seemed to allow herself full release for the first time. Her face was flushed and she swung aboard the copperbottom viciously. "All I know is I can't sit around that house and wait for something to happen. The only way to find something is to go out and hunt for it—"
She stopped, as she saw him standing there staring at the pinto. It had a little roan in its black coloring which caused the dark spots to run over into the white patches, giving a sloppy, splotched effect. It stirred faintly, snorting. Merida saw what that did to him.