Yes, there was one other who had a suspicion—only a suspicion—Rosita’s mother. Even the girl believed herself in the hands of Indians—if belief she had.
Chapter Thirty One.
“Ha! ha! ha! A capital joke, by my honour!” continued Roblado, laughing as he puffed his cigar. “It’s the only piece of fun I’ve enjoyed since we came to this stupid place. Even in a frontier post I find that one may have a little amusement if he know how to make it. Ha! ha! ha! After all, there was a devilish deal of trouble. But come, tell me, my dear Comandante—for you know by this time—in confidence, was it worth the trouble?”
“I am sorry we have taken it,” was the reply, delivered in a serious tone.
Roblado looked straight in the other’s face, and now for the first time noticed its gloomy expression. Busied with his cigar, he had not observed this before.
“Hola!” exclaimed he; “what’s the matter, my colonel? This is not the look a man should wear who has spent the last twelve hours as pleasantly as you must have done. Something amiss?”
“Everything amiss.”
“Pray what? Surely you were with her?”