This was not said angrily. Antonio understood its meaning, and fell back among his companions.
On moved the trackers—now at a gallop, now more slowly, for their animals were by this time somewhat jaded. On they moved, still keeping the trail, and still heading straight for the town!
At length they reached a point where a road from the upper plain led by a zigzag path to the valley below. It was the same by which Carlos had ascended to perform his great feat on the day of the fiesta. At the top of the descent Carlos ordered the party to halt, and with Don Juan rode forward to the edge of the projecting cliff—at the very spot where he had exhibited his skill—the cliff of Niña Perdida.
Both drew up when near the edge. They commanded a full view of the valley and the town.
“Do you see that building?” inquired the cibolero, pointing to the detached pile which lay between them and the town.
“The Presidio?”
“The Presidio.”
“Yes—what of it?”
“She is there!”