Their vigil was shorter than either had anticipated. They fancied that their intended victim might make a long ride of it—perhaps to the borders of the settlement—that he might have business that would detain him, and that it might be near morning before he would get back.
In the midst of those conjectures, and while it still wanted some hours of midnight, the mulatto, whose eyes were bent down the ravine, was seen suddenly to start, and grasp his companion by the sleeve.
“Look!—yonder, boy Pepe! Yonder come güero!”
The speaker pointed to a form approaching from the plain, and nearing the narrow part of the ravine. It was scarce visible by the uncertain light, and just possible to distinguish it as the form of a man on horseback.
“Carr-rr-a-ai! it is—carr-r-ai!” replied the zambo, after peering for some time through the darkness.
“Keep close in, boy Pepe! hwish! Pull back dog! take place—lie close—I watch outside—hwish!”
The zambo took his station according to the plan they had agreed upon; while the yellow hunter, bloodhound in hand, remained by the entrance of the cave. In a few moments the latter was seen to start up with a gesture of alarm.
“Dam!” he exclaimed. “Dam! told you so—till lost—ready, boy Pepe—dog on our trail!”
“Carajo, Man’l! what’s to be done?” eagerly inquired the zambo.
“In—in—let come in—kill ’im in cave—in!”