“There!” pointing to a fine tree with oblong leaves.
“That!”
“Yes, that is the palo de vaca (cow-tree), and as you shall presently see, it will give us a very good breakfast, though we may get nothing else. But we shall want cups. Ah, there is a calabash-tree! Lend me your knife a minute. Gracias!”
And with that Carmen went to the tree, from which he cut a large pear-shaped fruit. This, by slicing off the top and scooping out the pulp he converted into a large bowl. The next thing was to make a gash in the palo de vaca, whereupon there flowed from the wound a thick milky fluid which we caught in the bowl and drank. The taste was agreeable and the result satisfactory, for, though a beefsteak would have been more acceptable, the drink stayed our hunger for the time and helped us on our way.
The trail was easily found. For a considerable distance it ran between a double row of magnificent mimosa-trees which met overhead at a height of fully one hundred and fifty feet, making a glorious canopy of green leaves and rustling branches. The rain had cooled the air and laid the dust, and but for the danger we were in (greater than we suspected) and the necessity we were under of being continually on the alert, we should have had a most enjoyable walk. Late in the afternoon we passed a hut and a maize-field, the first sign of cultivation we had seen since leaving the azuferales, and ascertained our bearings from an old peon who was swinging in a grass hammock and smoking a cigar. San Felipe was about two leagues away, and he strongly advised us not to follow a certain trail, which he described, lest haply we might fall in with Mejia’s caballeros, some of whom he had himself seen within the hour a little lower down the valley.
This was good news, and we went on in high spirits.
“Didn’t I tell you so?” said Carmen, complacently. “I knew Mejia would not be far off. He is like one of your English bull-dogs. He never knows when he is beaten.”
After a while the country became more open, with here and there patches of cultivation; huts were more frequent and we met several groups of peons who, however, eyed us so suspiciously that we thought it inexpedient to ask them any questions.
About an hour before sunset we perceived in the near distance a solitary horseman; but as his face was turned the other way he did not see us.
“He looks like one of our fellows,” observed Carmen, after scanning him closely. “All the same, he may not be. Let us slip behind this acacia-bush and watch his movements.”