“Himself—and although, since he is one of my dearest friends, it goes sadly against my heart, I declare to you that his life may render abortive all the plans of our expedition.”
“But,” interposed Baraja, “why may he not lose it?—to-morrow in this hunt of wild horses there will be a thousand opportunities of his losing it?”
“True enough,” said Cuchillo, in a solemn voice. “It is of great importance he should not return from this hunt. Can I rely upon you, gentlemen?”
“Blindly!” replied the two adventurers.
The storm was gathering over the head of poor Tiburcio, but danger threatened him from still another quarter; and long before the expected hunt, that danger would be at its height.
The three adventurers continued their conversation, and were entering more particularly into the details of their design, when a knocking at the outer door interrupted their sinister councils.