The horses being saddled and bridled and the mules packed, the cavalcade continued its journey towards the hacienda—Don Estevan and the Senator, as before, riding in front.
It was after sunset before the walls of the hacienda were descried in the distance, already assuming a sombre hue under the fast increasing obscurity of the twilight. But through the wide forest tract which surrounded the hacienda a well-defined road led in the direction of the dwelling, which the travellers could follow even in the darkest night, and upon this road the cavalcade was now seen to enter.
A few minutes before they had passed into the forest from the open plain two men were seen standing near the edge of a thicket, by which they were hidden from the view of the travellers. These men might have been easily recognised by their long rifles as strangers to that part of the country; they were, in fact, the two trappers, the Canadian and his comrade, who had that morning so abruptly taken leave of the camp.
“You must have been deceived by some accidental resemblance,” said the Canadian to his companion.
“No,” replied the latter; “I am sure it is he. Twenty years have not made much change either in his face or figure. His voice is just the same as it was when I was the coast-guard, Pepé the Sleeper. My eyes and ears are as good as they were then, and I assure you, Bois-Rose, that he’s the very man.”
“Strange enough,” answered Bois-Rose (for the great Canadian trapper was no other than Bois-Rose himself). “After all, one is more likely to meet an enemy he is in search of than a friend. It may be the same.”
As he finished this speech, the Canadian, leaning upon his long rifle, stood looking after the cavalcade, which was just disappearing into the forest road that led to the hacienda.
After remaining a few minutes in this position, the two trappers turned back again into the forest, and soon disappeared under the shadows of the trees.