than I can tell you, senores. It is very likely; but as you
are peaceful travellers, I am sure no one will molest you. _Adoiso,
senores._"

And with that the man gave his horse a sudden dig with his spurs, and went
off at a gallop.

"What a discourteous beggar he is!" exclaimed Carmen, angrily. "If it
would not take too much out of my mare I would ride after him and give him
a lesson in politeness."

"I don't think he was intentionally uncivil. He seemed afraid."

"Evidently. He did not know what we were, and feared to commit himself.
However, we have learned something. We are on Mejia's track. He was at
Tres Cruces three days since, and if we push on we may fall in with him
before sunset, or, at any rate, to-morrow morning."

"Is it not possible that this man may have been purposely deceiving us, or
be himself misinformed?" I asked.

"Quite. But as we had already decided to go on it does not matter a great
deal whether he is right or wrong. I I think, though, he knew more about
the others than he cared to tell. All the more reason for keeping a sharp
lookout and riding slowly."

"So as to save our horses?"

"Exactly. We may have to ride for our lives before the sun goes down. And
now let us mount and march."

Our course was almost due west, and the sun being now a little past the
zenith, its ardent rays--which shone right in our faces--together with the
reverberations from the ground, made the heat almost insupportable. The
stirrup-irons burned our feet; speech became an effort; we sat in our
saddles, perspiring and silent; our horses, drooping their heads, settled
into a listless and languid walk. The glare was so trying that I closed my
eyes and let Pizarro go as he would. Open them when I might, the outlook
was always the same, the same yellow earth and blue sky, the same
lifeless, interminable plain, the same solitary sombrero palms dotting the
distant horizon.

This went on for an hour or two, and I think I must have fallen into a
doze, for when, roused by a shout from Gahra, I once more opened my eyes
the sun was lower and the heat less intense.

"What is it," asked Carmen, who, like myself, had been half asleep. "I see
nothing."

"A cloud of dust that moves--there!" (pointing).

"So it is," shading his eyes and looking again. "Coming this way, too.
Behind that cloud is a body of horsemen. Be they friends or enemies--Mejia
and his people or loyalist guerillas?"

"That is more than I can say, se