e sun, and when Carmen called a halt on
the bank of a nearly dried-up stream, it required an effort to realize
that since we left our bivouac in the hills we had ridden twenty miles in
a direct line. Hard by was a deserted _hatto_, or cattle-keeper's hut,
where we rested while our horses grazed.

"No sign of Mejia yet," observed Carmen, as he lighted his cigar with a
burning-glass. "Shall we go on toward Tres Cruces, or return to our old
camping-ground in the hills?"

"I am for going on."

"So am I. But we must keep a sharp lookout. We shall be on dangerous
ground after we have crossed the Tio."

"Where is the Tio?"

"There!" (pointing to the attenuated stream near us).

"That! I thought the Tio was a river."

"So it is, and a big one in the rainy season, as you may have an
opportunity of seeing. I wish we could hear something of Mejia. But there
is nobody of whom we can inquire. The country is deserted; the herdsmen
have all gone south, to keep out of the way of guerillas and brigands, all
of whom look on cattle as common property."

"Somebody comes!" said Gahra, who was always on the lookout.

"How many?" exclaimed Carmen, springing to his feet.

"Only one."

"Keep out of sight till he draws near, else he may sheer off; and I should
like to have a speech of him. He may be able to tell us something."

The stranger came unconcernedly on, and as he stopped in the middle of the
river to let his horse drink, we had a good look at him. He was well
mounted, carried a long spear and a _macheto_ (a broad, sword-like knife,
equally useful for slitting windpipes and felling trees), and wore a
broad-brimmed hat, shirt, trousers, and a pair of spurs (strapped to his
naked feet).

As he resumed his journey across the river, we all stepped out of the
_hatto_ and gave him the traditional greeting, "_Buenas dias, senor._"

The man, looking up in alarm, showed a decided disposition to make off,
but Carmen spoke him kindly, offered him a cigar, and said that all we
wanted was a little information. We were peaceful travellers, and would
much like to know whether the country beyond the Tio was free from
guerillas.

The stranger eyed us suspiciously, and then, after a moment's hesitation,
said that he had heard that Mejia was "on the war-path."

"Where?" asked Carmen.

"They say he was at Tres Cruces three days ago; and there has been
fighting."

"And are any of Morale's people also on the war-path?"

"That is more