“Whom may we expect? You forget those fellows left behind on the Llano. The corporal and two men, whether they’ve found the Indian or not, will make all haste after us. Fear of falling in with some party of Apaches will stimulate their speed. I wonder why they haven’t got up long ago. Something strange about that.”
“No doubt the storm has detained them.”
“Do you think it’s been that, ayadante?”
“I can’t think of anything else, colonel. Anyhow, they wouldn’t be likely to come here, but go on straight to Albuquerque. The corporal is a skilled rastrero, and, reaching the place where the troop separated, he’d be pretty sure to follow the trail of the larger party. All the more from his knowing it the safer one, so far as savages are concerned.”
“I hope he has done so. We don’t want him here.”
Saying this, Uraga resumes his thoughtful attitude and silently puffs away at his cigar, apparently watching the smoke as it curls up and spreads against the canvas.
Roblez, who appeared anxious about something, after a time again essays speech. He puts the interrogatory,—
“How long are we to remain here?”
“That will depend on—”
Uraga does not complete the response—at least not till after taking several whiffs at his weed.