I was about to enter after them, when some words spoken by one of the attendants, who had drawn nearer to the tent, arrested my steps, causing me to remain outside.
“It’s Lola Vergara,” said the speaker; “that’s who it is. Any one who has had the good fortune to see that muchacha once, won’t be likely to forget her face, and won’t object to look at it a second time.”
“You’re right in what you say, Anton Chico. I know one who, instead of disliking to look at her beautiful countenance, would give an onza for a single glance at it. Carrambo! that he would.”
“Who—who is he?” asked several of the party.
“That big captain of guerilleros—Rayas, his name. I know he’d like to see her.”
“Why, her brother belonged to his cuadrilla; and the girl was with him in the camp. I saw her myself, not three days ago, down by Puente National.”
“That’s quite true!” assented the speaker who had endorsed the declaration of Anton Chico.
“She was with the army for some days, along with the other women that followed Rayas’s troop. But then all at once she was missed, and nobody knew where she went to. Capitan Rayas didn’t, I know; or why should he have offered an onza to any one who would tell him?”
“He made that offer?”
“Ver dad! I heard him.”