“But a moment, and that was enough.”
“Explain, my dear colonel.”
“She is mad!”
“Mad!”
“Having mad! Her talk terrified me. I was but too glad to come away, and leave her to the care of José, who waits upon her. I could not bear to listen to her strange jabberings. I assure you, camarado, it robbed me of all desire to remain.”
“Oh,” said Roblado, “that’s nothing—she’ll get over it in a day or so. She still thinks herself in the hands of the savages who are going to murder and scalp her! It may be as well for you to undeceive her of this as soon as she comes to her senses. I don’t see any harm in letting her know. You must do so in the end, and the sooner the better—you will have the longer time to get her reconciled to it. Now that you have her snug within earless and eyeless walls, you can manage the thing at your leisure. No one suspects—no one can suspect. They are full of the Indians to-day—ha! ha! ha! and ’tis said her inamorato, Don Juan, talks of getting up a party to pursue them! Ha! ha! He’ll not do that—the fellow hasn’t influence enough, and nobody cares either about his cattle or the witch’s daughter. Had it been some one else the case might have been different. As it is, there’s no fear of discovery, even were the cibolero himself to make his appearance—”
“Roblado!” cried the Comandante, interrupting him, and speaking in a deep earnest voice.
“Well?” inquired the captain, regarding Vizcarra with astonishment.
“I have had a dream—a fearful dream; and that—not the ravings of the girl—it is that is now troubling me. Diablos! a fearful dream!”
“You, Comandante—a valiant soldier—to let a silly dream trouble you! But come! what was it? I’m a good interpreter of dreams. I warrant I read it to your bettor satisfaction.”