“In that case,” counselled the more sagacious Andres, “we must finish our business before Savanna comes in sight. Perhaps, compadre, by pushing on rapidly now, we may overtake the party before they get anchored in Content?”
“You’re right, hombre; you’re right about that. Let us, as you say, push on; and, if it suits you as it does me, let our motto be, ‘Noche o nunca’ (this night or never)!”
“Vamos!” rejoined Andres; and the assassins increased their speed, as if stimulated by the fear of losing their prey.
Volume Three—Chapter Twenty.
No Blood.
The sun had already hidden his red disc under the sea horizon, when the man-hunters mounted the hill, and approached the hut where Custos Vaughan had been compelled to make halt, and in which he was now lying lifeless.
“Mira, Manuel!” said Andres, as they came within sight of the hovel, and at the same instant saw the horse standing tied to the tree; “un cavallo! saddled, bridled, and with alforjas!”
“A traveller’s horse!” rejoined Manuel, “and that very traveller we’ve been tracking. Yes! it’s the horse of the great alcalde of Mount Welcome! Don’t you remember, when we saw them before us at mid-day, that one of the horses was a bay, and the other a grey? There’s the grey, and it was on that very animal the Custos was riding.”