Surely he could not be on his way to Micas! The afternoon was far advanced and the village many miles away. No vaquero ever trusted himself to the dangers of the jungle at night. Even Augustine, the boldest and strongest of Bernardo’s many herders, would scarcely venture so much. Yet Augustine kept on down the trail, passed the thatched bamboo fence, went through the grove of palms, and disappeared in the green wall of jungle.
“He’s gone!” cried Bernardo. “Muella, I sent Augustine away.”
She saw a dull red in her husband’s cheeks, a dark and sinister gleam in his eyes; and her surprise yielded to misgiving.
“Why?” she asked.
“He loved you.”
“No! No! Bernardo, if that’s why you sent him away, you’ve wronged him. Of all your vaqueros, Augustine alone never smiled at me—he cared nothing for me.”
“I say he loved you,” returned Bernardo hoarsely.
“Bernardo, you are unjust!”
“Would you lie to me? I know he loves you. Girl, confess that you love him. Tell it! I won’t bear this doubt another day!”
Muella stood rigid in his grasp, her eyes blazing the truth that her lips scorned to speak.