“Saw anybody? Who? The royalist you are in search of?”
“Yes; the mad Colonel.”
“No; I met no mad colonel,” said Zapote, turning away.
“Eh! hombre?” exclaimed Perico, with a significant glance; “make it appear you are ignorant that it is the Colonel Tres-Villas we are pursuing? You know that well enough. You wish to capture him alone, and get the five hundred dollars to yourself?”
“Colonel Tres-Villas?” cried Zapote and the messenger in the same breath.
“Five hundred dollars reward!” exclaimed Zapote the instant after, raising his hand to his head, as if about to pluck out a fistful of his hair.
“Certainly, that same; a grand gentleman, with black moustachios, a felt hat of the same colour, a soldier’s infantry jacket, and gold-laced cavalry pantaloons.”
“And he has killed two of our people?”
“Four. Since Suarez and Pacheco have not returned, we may also reckon them as dead men.”
Zapote no longer doubted that the man from whom they had just parted was he to whom they were bearing the message of Gertrudis de Silva, in other words, the Colonel Tres-Villas. He exchanged a significant glance with the messenger.