Ere long I obtained it. The cuadrilla came to a halt at a rancheria or collection of huts, all of which appeared to be uninhabited—their owners no doubt having fled at the approach of the robber band.
It was the Rinconada alluded to by the robber chief. In the piazza of the village the order was broken up; and the files in the rear closed in upon the heads of the “column.”
By this change of position I was brought close to the side of the Jarocha.
Words can but ill express the pleasure I felt on perceiving that she was strapped to her saddle—like myself, a prisoner; and the scream that escaped her, as she recognised me, was, to my ears, sweeter than any note that ever issued from the lips of Grisi or the “Swedish Nightingale.”
We were not allowed any interchange of words—scarcely even that of a glance. Before I could speak to her, the Jarocha was handed from her horse, and conducted inside one of the Jacales—the one which appeared to be the principal “hut” of the rancheria.
Story 1, Chapter XXIII.
A Fiendish Design.
I was left but little time for reflection; but, short as it was, it enabled me to comprehend the scheme of my captors—or rather that of their chief.