No doubt they were under apprehensions that the Panés, their mortal foes, had stolen a march upon them.
Carlos soon relieved them from this apprehension. Spurring his horse to the crest of the ridge, he drew up in full view of the Indians. A few signs, which he well knew how to make, and the word “amigo!” shouted at the top of his voice, restored their confidence; then a young fellow now rode out in front, and advanced up the hill. When sufficiently near to be heard, he halted; and a conversation, partly by signs, and partly by means of a little Spanish, enabled him and Carlos to understand each other. The Indian then galloped back, and, after a short interval, returned again, and invited the cibolero and his companion to the encampment.
Carlos of course accepted the courtesy, and a few minutes after, he and Antonio were eating fresh buffalo-beef, and chatting in perfect amity with their new hosts.
The chief, a fine-looking man, and evidently possessing full authority, became particularly friendly with Carlos, and was much pleased at hearing that the latter had a stock of goods. He promised to visit his camp next morning and allow his tribe to trade. As the cibolero had conjectured, they were Waco Indians,—a noble race, one of the noblest of the prairie tribes.
Carlos returned to his camp in high spirits. He would now have his goods exchanged for mules,—so the chief promised,—and these were the main objects of his expedition.
In the morning, according to appointment, the Indians arrived, chief and all; and the little valley where the cibolero had encamped was filled with men, women, and children. The packs were opened, the goods were set forth, and the whole day was spent in continuous trading. The cibolero found his customers perfectly honest; and when night came, and they took their departure, not a single item of Carlos’ stock remained on his hands. In its place, however, a handsome mulada of no less than thirty mules was seen picketed in the bottom of the little valley. These were now the property of Carlos the cibolero. Not a bad outlay of his eight onzas!
Not only would they yield well on his return, but it was his intention that each of them should carry back its full load of buffalo-hides, or “tasajo.”
It would be a successful expedition, indeed; and dreams of future wealth, with the hope of being some day in a condition to advance a legitimate claim to the hand of the fair Catalina, were already passing through the mind of Carlos.
Once a “rico,” reflected he, even Don Ambrosio might sanction his suit. On that night soft was the slumber and pleasant the dreams of Carlos the cibolero.