When they sat down to breakfast, there was a seat too many at the table. Loring thought of the silent form in the room above, and for a moment felt weak. Then, shaking off his depression, he entered into the general hilarity. Time after time, the servant passed the great platter of dry tortillas. The big cakes tasted delicious to the tired men.
As they finished breakfast, the sound of a bugle call sent every one to the window. Outside was a troop of Mexican cavalry, hot on the trail of the Yaquis. Señor Hernandez invited the officers to enter, and while he pressed whisky upon them, gave a voluble account of the fight. He spoke in such rapid Spanish that Stephen could understand little; but from the frequent sweeping gestures, he judged that the story lost nothing in the telling.
The officers remained but a short while, then remounted, and rode at a sharp trot towards the hills.
“I wonder that the government does not send enough troops to wipe out these fellows. These cavalry will only drive them back into the hills, and in a few months they will again swoop down upon the outlying towns and ranches, just as they have been doing for the past ten years,” thought Stephen.
After breakfast, Loring prepared to return to Los Andes. The others had accepted the invitation of Señor Hernandez to stay for a few days as his guests. A spirit of restlessness pervaded Stephen, and prevented him from remaining.
The Señor was to arrange to send home Haskins’s body.
“He came from Trinidad, he always said. Guess he had folks there,” one of the men had volunteered.
Just as Loring was mounting, Pepita ran forward, and whispered something to him.
He shook his head in reply.
“Try and see!” was her rejoinder.