r."

Simon smiled and could not refrain from saying:

"Perhaps Lynx-Eye is one of them?"

The Indian repeated:

"Be on your guard, M. Dubosc!"

And with these words he went his way. They seemed to sum up all that
he thought of Dolores.

Simon ate, stretched himself out on the ground and smoked some
cigarettes. Sitting on the sand, Dolores unpicked a few seams of the
wide trousers which she was wearing and arranged them in such a
fashion that they might have been taken for a skirt.

An hour later, as Simon was making ready to start, his attention was
attracted by a sound of voices. At some little distance, Dolores and
one of the three Indians were standing face to face and disputing in a
language which Simon did not understand, while the brothers Mazzani
were watching them and grinning.

Dolores' arms were folded across her breast; she stood motionless and
scornful. The man, on the contrary, was gesticulating, with a snarling
face and glittering eyes. Suddenly he took both Dolores' arms and,
drawing her close to him, sought her lips.

Simon leapt to his feet. But there was no need of intervention; the
Indian had at once recoiled, pricked at the throat by a dagger which
Dolores held before her, the handle pressed against her bosom, the
point threatening her adversary.

The incident was not followed by any sort of explanation. The Indian
made off, grumbling. Old Sandstone, who had seen nothing, tackled
Simon on the subject of his geological fault; and Simon merely said to
himself, as Dolores tightened her saddle-girth:

"What the deuce are all these people up to?"

He did not waste time in seeking for an answer to the question.

The little band did not overtake Antonio until three hours later, when
he was stooping over the ground, examining some footprints.

"There you are," he said to Simon, straightening his back. "I have
made out thirteen distinct tracks, left by people who certainly were
not travelling together. In addition to these thirteen highwaymen--for
a man has to be a pretty tough lot to risk the journey--there are two
parties ahead of us: first, a party of four horsemen and then, walking
behind them--how many hours later I couldn't say--a party of seven on
foot, forming Rolleston's gang. Look, here's the print of the
patterned rubber soles."

"Yes, yes," said Simon, recognizing the footprint which he had seen
two days before. "And what do you conclude?"

"I conclude that Rolleston, as we kn