We were again on the jump.
These two disappointments were serious in more than one way.
They aroused false hopes, and at the same time allowed our pursuers to draw nearer, for while we halted they continued to advance, eager to close with the Gringoes who had created such an uproar in Bolivar this night of the flower feast.
No doubt they were very anxious to make our acquaintance at short range; the rumor that a glittering reward for our apprehension, dead or alive, by the worthy alcalde had permeated their ranks and enthused them with the most ardent zeal.
On our part, we respectfully declined the honor of an introduction, and were even more anxious to shake the dust of Bolivar’s metropolis from our shoes than they were to have us depart hence.
We were now drawing close to the wooden landing stage.
Here, I felt positive, we must find what we sought; but, should this prove a fallacy, then was our finish in sight.
At least, I seemed to feel a grim sort of humor in the fact that Hildegarde would realize my worth when I had departed hence.
She could not have gone much farther, I am positive; that had been a killing pace for the little woman; surely, something she had never done before, and might never again have to undertake during the whole course of her natural life.
I could feel her becoming more and more a dead weight on my arm.