“I shall be with you to-morrow, by mid-day.” It is De Lara who has said this; after which adding: “Adios, Don Rafael! Hasta mañana!” he gives his horse the spur, and gallops to overtake his travelling companion; Rocas sauntering back towards the tinacal.
Chapter Twenty One.
A “Golpe de Caballo.”
On coming up with the ganadero, De Lara rides on silently by his side, without exhibiting any desire to satisfy the other’s curiosity. He but piques it by saying, that Rocas has a made communication of an intensely interesting kind; which he will impart to him, Faustino, in due time; but now there are other matters of more importance to be attended to. The fighting is before them; and that cannot be set aside.
Calderon wishes it could: for the flask has been for a time forgotten, and the spirit has been getting cold within him.
“Take another pull!” counsels his companion; “you may need it. We’ll soon be in the town, and, perhaps, the first man we meet there will be your yellow-haired rival.”
Scarcely have the words passed De Lara’s lips when something in front fixes his attention, as also that of his companion. At some distance along the road a cloud of dust is ascending; in its midst a darker nucleus, distinguishable as the forms of horses with riders on their backs. There appear to be four of them, filed two and two.
Plying their spurs, and galloping closer, the gamblers perceive that this equestrian party is proceeding in the same direction as themselves—towards the town.