The quick time made by the hunters in return is attested by their breathing; both with nostrils agape and breasts heaving up and down as runners at the close of a hard-contested race.
“’Tis well they’re at such a distance,” rejoins Don Estevan. “And lucky your having sighted them before they got nearer.”
“Ah! señor, they’ll soon be near; for I know they’ve sighted us—at least the smoke of our camp, and are already making for it. Light horsemen as they don’t need long to traverse ten miles—on a plain like this.”
“That’s true,” assents the ci-devant soldier, with an air of troubled impatience. “What do you advise our doing, Don Pedro?”
“Well, for one thing, your worship, we mustn’t remain here. We must clear out of this camp as soon as possible. In an hour—ay, less—it may be too late.”
“Your words want explaining, Don Pedro. I don’t comprehend them. Clear out of the camp! But whither are we to go?”
“Arriba!” answers the guide, pointing to the gorge, “up yonder.”
“But we can’t take the animals there. And to carry up our goods there wouldn’t be time.”
“I know it, your worship. And glad we may be to get ourselves safe up.”
“Then we’re to abandon all? Is that what you advise?”