“Don’t fear, master!” replied the half-blood. “Josefa will do her best, for the reason that,” smiling, “her hopes, I believe, rest entirely upon me.”
Carlos laughed at the naïve remark of his faithful companion, and then proceeded to inquire about other matters,—about his mother and sister, about the troopers, the spies, and Don Juan.
About the last Antonio could give him no information that was new. Don Juan had been arrested the day after the affair at the Presidio, and ever since had been kept a close prisoner. The charge against him was his having been an accomplice of Carlos, and his trial would take place whenever the latter should be captured.
Half-an-hour was spent in conversation, and then Carlos, having received from the half-blood the packages containing provisions, prepared to return to his hiding-place in the Llano Estacado.
“You will meet me here to-morrow night again, Anton,” said he at parting. “If anything should happen to prevent me coming, then look for me the night after, and the night after that. So buenas noches, amigo!”
“Buenos noches, mi amo!” (“Good night, master!”)
And with this salutation the friends—for they were go—turned their backs on each other and parted.
Antonio went crouching back in the direction of the valley; while the cibolero, springing to his saddle, rode off toward the frowning bluffs of the Llano.