“I foresaw,” said Fabian, “that we should have the whole troop on our hands, and be caught like wild horses in a stockade.”
“Hush!” said Bois-Rose, “and trust to me to protect you. Nothing yet shows that there are any others behind, and in any case we could not be better placed than on this rock; from here we might defy a whole tribe of savages. Besides, we do not yet know that they will stop here. Both of you crouch down. I shall watch them.”
So saying, he lay flat down, hiding his head behind the stones which surrounded the top like turrets, but without losing sight of the horsemen. They began now to hear the sound of the horses’ feet on the plain. The old hunter saw them stop and converse, but could not hear what they were saying.
“Why this halt, Diaz?” said Don Estevan, impatiently, “we have lost time enough already.”
“Prudence exacts that we should look about us before proceeding. The knave may be hidden about here, as we have tracked him up to the rock; he may not be alone, and we have everything to fear from him.”
Don Estevan made a gesture of disdain.
“Ah!” said Bois-Rose, in a low voice, “I recognise Don Estevan, or rather Don Antonio de Mediana, who is at last in our power.”
“Don Antonio de Mediana! Is it possible? Are you sure?” cried Fabian.
“It is he, I tell you.”
“Ah! now I see that it was the hand of God which brought me here. Shade of my mother, rejoice!” cried Fabian.