"Evaña!" exclaimed Don Roderigo; "I thought he was in Buenos Aires."
"He left the day after you did, Señor Don Roderigo. The day before yesterday we arranged those vagabonds, so now with this escort you need fear nothing."
"And the Señor Major Asneiros, what of him? Where is he?"
"He died, Señor."
"And the Señor Major Evaña, where is he?"
"He was tired and could come no further, he is waiting for you at an estancia on the Arroyo del Medio."
Don Roderigo looked fixedly at Venceslao, asking with his eyes a question he did not care to speak. Venceslao bowed his head in reply.
"Carry out your orders, whatever they are." So saying Don Roderigo shut the window of the galera through which he had leaned during this colloquy, and, seating himself in a corner, wrapped himself in his cloak.
Viana then rode up to the postillions, telling them to turn and go back the way they had come, silencing their objections by throwing back his poncho, and laying his hand on the butt of a pistol.
On the afternoon of the day following Don Carlos Evaña, now quite recovered from his fatigue, sat talking with the estanciero who had given him shelter, when one of his troopers came to the door of the room and announced that a galera had crossed the arroyo and was coming up towards the estancia, escorted by a party of dragoons. Don Carlos sprang joyfully to his feet, and went out with his host to watch the galera as it came swiftly towards them. At the tranquera it stopped, Don Carlos himself opened the door.