When Don Juan came up, the cibolero said to him, in a tone full of intelligence—
“Amigo! you stand a fair chance to recover your cattle.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Because their drivers, four in number, have been near this spot not much over twenty-four hours ago. The animals, therefore, cannot be far off.”
“But how know you this?”
“Oh, that is plain enough,” coolly responded the cibolero. “The men who drove your beasts were mounted on the same horses that made yonder trail.” The speaker indicated the trail which he had halted to examine, and continued,—“Very probably we’ll find the herd among the spurs of the ceja yonder.”
As Carlos said this, he pointed to a number of ragged ridges that from the brow of the Llano Estacado jutted out into the plain. They appeared to be at the distance of some ten miles from the crossing.
“Shall we push on there?” asked Don Juan.
The cibolero did not give an immediate answer. He had evidently not decided yet, and was debating in his own mind what course to pursue.
“Yes,” he replied, at length, in a solemn and deliberate voice. “It is better to be sure. With all my terrible suspicions, I may be wrong. She may be wrong. The two trails may yet come together.”