The band were hardly distinguishable as they rode up to the “motte.” It was evident that they intended to encamp in the trees.
As they drew near Iola heard one of them speak, and to her intense delight the words were not spoken in the Comanche tongue, but in fluent Mexican.
“Señor,” said the voice, coming from the dismounted trailer, “we will have to rest here until the moon rises. Then we will take up the trail again, and follow it all night if necessary.”
“You are right, Alvarez, we will follow it as long as possible. We know that at the end of this trail is your mistress, and that end must be reached,” said a voice, that made the Donna start and with a sobbing cry dash out.
The next moment she was in the arms of her father, Don Carlos, and the vaqueros and peons, brave men, every one of them, were crowding around her. A fire was soon lighted, and, over a hearty supper, Donna Iola related her adventures to her father. He agreed with her when she said that an effort must be made to rescue Chauncy from the Comanches and when she related what the brave young man had done, the men (there were thirty of them) all signified their approval of his decision. They loved the Donna, and any one that had twice saved her from death, at the risk of his own life, must not be forgotten.
The Donna soon learned how she came to be tracked.
The men had come to where she left the trail, early that morning, in fact just after she was out of sight.
The trailer, Alvarez, after the Don had recognized the tracks of the Donna’s feet, soon found out the true state of affairs.
He knew that the Donna had made a circuit and had camped on the spot. He also knew that the fresh marks was the trail for them to follow. It was very lucky that the Donna had happened to be on foot when she left the main trail; otherwise the trackers would never have suspicioned who rode the horse, the hoof-marks of which they would have seen.
The Donna slept that night in security, and early the next morning the whole band took the back trail.