The latter part of this was spoken in soliloquy, and, though it reached the ears of Don Juan, he did not comprehend its meaning. He was about to ask his companion for an explanation, when the latter, suddenly collecting his energies, struck the spurs into his horse, and, calling to them to follow, galloped off upon the cattle-track.
After a run of ten miles, which was made in less than an hour, the party entered a large ravine or point of the plain that protruded, like a deep bay, into the mountain-like side of the high steppe. As they entered this, a singular spectacle came under their eyes. The ravine, near its bottom, was covered with zopilotes, or black vultures. Hundreds of them were perched upon the rocks, or wheeling overhead in the air; and hundreds of others hopped about upon the plain, flapping their broad wings as if in full enjoyment. The coyote, the larger wolf, and the grizzly bear, were seen moving over the ground, or quarrelling with each other, though they need not have quarrelled—the repast was plenteous for all. Between forty and fifty carcases were strewed over the ground, which Don Juan and his vaqueros as they drew near recognised as the carcases of his own cattle.
“I told you so, Don Juan,” said Carlos, in a voice now husky with emotion; “but I did not expect this. What a deep-laid plan! They might have strayed back! and that—oh! horrible villain! My mother was right—it is he! it is he!”
“Who, Carlos! What mean you?” inquired Don Juan, wondering at these strange and incongruous phrases.
“Ask me not now, Don Juan! Presently I shall tell you all—presently, but not now; my brain’s too hot—my heart is burning: presently—presently. The mystery is past—I know all—I had suspicion from the first—I saw him at the fiesta—I saw his bad ruffian gaze bent upon her. Oh, despot! I’ll tear your heart out! Come, Don Juan!—Antonio—comrades!—After me on the trail! It’s easily followed. I know where it will lead—well I know.—On!”
And driving the spur into the flanks of his horse, the cibolero galloped off in the direction of the crossing.
The wondering troop—Don Juan among the rest—set their animals in motion, and galloped after.
There was no halt made at the ford. Carlos dashed his horse through the water, and the rest imitated his example. There was no halt either on arriving at the trace that led northward. The dog scampered along it, yelping at intervals; and the troop kept close after his heels.
They had not followed it quite a mile when it suddenly turned at right angles, and took the direction of the town!
Don Juan and the rest expressed surprise, but there was nothing in all this to surprise the cibolero. He was expecting that. The expression on his face was not that of astonishment. It was far different—far more terrible to behold!