The horseman advanced, guiding his horse at a slow pace, and evidently observing caution as he went. While passing, the moon shone full upon him, and the bright points of his harness and arms were seen sparkling under her light. His fair complexion, too, could be distinguished easily, as also his fine erect figure, and the noble outlines of his horse.
“The güero!” muttered Manuel; “all right, boy Pepe!”
“What’s yon ahead?” inquired the zambo.
“Ha! didn’t notice that. Dam! a dog! dog, sure.”
“It is a dog. Malraya!”
“Devil roast that dog!—heard of him before—splendid dog, boy Pepe. Dam! that dog give us trouble. Lucky, wind t’other way. Safe enough now. Dam! see!”
At this moment the horseman suddenly stopped, looking suspiciously in the direction of the rocky spur where they lay. The dog had given some sign.
“Dam!” again muttered the mulatto; “that dog give us trouble yet—thank our luck, wind t’other way.”
There was not much wind either way, but what there was was in the faces of the hunters, and blowing from the horseman. Fortunately for them it was so, also Cibolo would have scented them to a certainty.
Even as things stood, their ambush was near enough discovery. Some slight noise from that quarter—perhaps the hoof of one of their horses against the turf—had awakened the dog’s suspicions—though nothing had been heard by his master. Neither was the dog sure—for the next moment he threw down his head and trotted on. The horseman followed and in a few minutes both were out of sight.