Carlos laughed at the _naive_ remark of his faithful companion, and then proceeded to inquire about other matters,--about his mother and sister, about the troopers, the spies, and Don Juan.

About the last Antonio could give him no information that was new. Don Juan had been arrested the day after the affair at the Presidio, and ever since had been kept a close prisoner. The charge against him was his having been an accomplice of Carlos, and his trial would take place whenever the latter should be captured.

Half-an-hour was spent in conversation, and then Carlos, having received from the half-blood the packages containing provisions, prepared to return to his hiding-place in the Llano Estacado.

"You will meet me here to-morrow night again, Anton," said he at parting. "If anything should happen to prevent me coming, then look for me the night after, and the night after that. So _buenas noches, amigo_!"

"_Buenos noches, mi amo_!" ("Good night, master!")

And with this salutation the friends--for they were go--turned their backs on each other and parted.

Antonio went crouching back in the direction of the valley; while the cibolero, springing to his saddle, rode off toward the frowning bluffs of the Llano.

CHAPTER FIFTY SIX.

The "report" delivered by Antonio was of a character to have caused serious apprehension to the cibolero--fear, in fact, had he been the man to have such a feeling. It had the effect of still further increasing his caution, and his mind was now bent with all its energies upon the craft of taking care of himself.

Had he contemplated an open fight, even with the two strong men who were seeking him, he would have been less uneasy about the result; but he knew that, strong as they were, these ruffians would not attack him without some advantage. They would make every effort to surprise him asleep, or otherwise take him unawares. Against their wiles he had now to guard himself.

He rode slowly back to the ravine, his thoughts all the while busied about the yellow hunter and his companion.

"They must know of the cave," so ran his reflections. "Their following my trail yesterday is an evidence that they suspected something in the direction of the ravine. They had no doubt heard of late affairs before getting so far. Some _hatero_ on the outer plains has told them all, very like; well, what then? They have hastened on to the mission. Ha!

the Padre Joaquin took the boy over to the Presidio. I see--I see--the Padre is the 'patron' of these two ruffians. They have told him something, else why should he be off to the Presidio so early? News from them--and then Roblado starting directly after to seek them!

Clear--clear--they have discovered my hiding-place!"

After a pause:--

"What if they have reached the ravine in my absence? Let me see. Yes, they've had time enough to get round; that is, if they started soon after Roblado's interview. The boy thinks they did. By Heaven! it's not too soon for me to be on the alert."

As this thought passed through the cibolero's mind, he reined up his horse; and, lowering his head, glanced along the neck of the animal into the darkness before him. He had now arrived at the mouth of the canon, and nearly on the same track by which he had ridden out of it; but the moon was under thick clouds, and the gloom of the ravine was no longer relieved by her light.

"It would be their trick," reflected he, "to get inside the canon, at its narrow part, and wait for me to come out of the cave. They would waylay me pretty handy there. Now suppose they _are_ up the canon at this moment!"

For a moment he paused and dwelt upon this hypothesis. He proceeded again.

"Well, let them; I'll ride on. Cibolo can beat the rocks a shot's range ahead of me. If they're ambushed there without him finding them, they'll be sharper fellows than I take them to be; and I don't consider them flats, either, the scoundrels! If he start them, I can soon gallop back out of their reach. Here! Cibolo!"

The dog, that had stopped a few paces in front, now came running back, and looked up in his master's face. The latter gave him a sign, uttering the simple word "Anda!"

At the word the animal sprang off, and commenced quartering the ground for a couple of hundred yards in advance.

Following him, the horseman moved forward.

In this way he approached the point where the two walls converging narrowed the canon to a space of little more than a hundred yards.

Along the bases of the cliffs, on both sides, lay large loose rocks, that would have given cover to men in ambush, and even horses might have been concealed behind them.

"This," thought Carlos, "would be the place chosen for their cowardly attack. They might hit me from either side with half an aim. But Cibolo makes no sign.--Ha!"

The last exclamation was uttered in a short sharp tone. It had been called forth by a low yelp from the dog. The animal had struck the trail where the yellow hunter and his companion had crossed to the middle of the ravine. The moon had again emerged from the clouds, and Carlos could see the dog dashing swiftly along the pebbles and up the ravine towards the mouth of the cavern!

His master would have called him back, for he was leaving the loose rocks unsearched, and, without that being done, Carlos felt that it would be perilous to proceed farther; but the swiftness with which the dog had gone forward showed that he was on a fresh trail; and it now occurred to the cibolero that his enemies might be within the cave itself!

The thought had hardly crossed his mind when the dog uttered several successive yelps! Although he had got out of sight, his master knew that he was at that moment approaching the mouth of the cave, and running upon a fresh scent.

Carlos drew up his horse and listened. He dare proceed no farther. He dared not recall the dog. His voice would have been heard if any one were near. He reflected that he could do no better than wait till the dog should return, or by his attack give some sign of what he was after.

It might, after all, be the grizzly bear, or some other animal, he was pursuing.

The cibolero sat upon his horse in perfect silence--not unprepared though for any sudden attack. His true rifle lay across his thighs, and he had already looked to its flint and priming. He listened to every sound, while his eyes pierced the dark recesses of the ravine before and around him.

For only a few moments this uncertainty lasted, and then back down the chasm came a noise that caused the listener to start in his saddle. It resembled the worrying of dogs, and for a moment Carlos fancied that Cibolo had made his attack upon a bear! Only a moment did this illusion last, for his quick ear soon detected the voices of more dogs than one; and in the fierce confusion he distinguished the deep-toned bark of a _bloodhound_!

The whole situation became clear to him at once. His enemies had been awaiting him in the cave--for from it he was certain that the sounds proceeded.

His first instinct was to wheel his horse and gallop out of the canon.

He waited a moment, however, and listened.

The worrying noise continued, but, amid the roar find barking of the dogs, Carlos could distinguish the voices of men, uttered in low hurried tones, as if addressing the dogs and also one another.

All at once the conflict appeared to cease, for the animals became silent, except the hound, who at intervals gave out his deep loud bray.

In a moment more he, too, was silent.

Carlos knew by this silence that Cibolo had either been killed upon the spot, or, having been attacked by men, had sheered off. In either case it would be of no use waiting his return. If alive, he knew that the dog would follow and overtake him. Without further delay, therefore, he turned his horse's head, and galloped back down the ravine.

CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN.

On arriving at the month of the ravine he halted--not in the middle of the plain, but under the shadow of the rocks--the same rocks where the hunters had placed themselves in ambush. He did not dismount, but sat in his saddle, gazing up the canon, and listening for some token of the expected pursuit.

He had not been long in this spot when he perceived a dark object approaching him. It gave him joy, for he recognised Cibolo coming along his trail. The next moment the dog was by his stirrup. The cibolero bent down in his saddle, and perceived that the poor brute was badly cut and bleeding profusely. Several gashes appeared along his side, and one near his shoulder exhibited a flap of hanging skin, over which the red stream was pouring. The animal was evidently weak from loss of blood, and tottered in his tracks.

"Amigo!" said Carlos, "you have saved my life to a certainty. It's my turn to save yours--if I can."

As he said this he dismounted, and, taking the dog in his arms, climbed back into the saddle.

For a while he sat reflecting what to do, with his eyes turned in the direction from which he expected the pursuit.

He had now no doubt as to who were the occupants of the cave. The bay of the hound was satisfactory evidence of the presence of the yellow hunter, and of course the zambo was along with him. Carlos knew of no other bloodhound in the settlement--the one heard must be that of the mulatto.

For some minutes he remained by the rocks, considering what course he had best take.

"I'll ride on to the grove," reflected he, "and hide in it till Antonio comes. They can't track me this night--it will be too dark. The whole sky is becoming clouded--there will be no more moon to-night I can lie hid all day to-morrow, if they don't follow. If they do, why, I can see them far enough off to ride away. My poor Cibolo, how you bleed!

Heavens, what a gash! Patience, brave friend! When we halt, your wounds shall be looked to. Yes! to the grove I'll go. They won't suspect me of taking that direction, as it is towards the settlements.

Besides they can't trail me in the darkness. Ha! what am I thinking of?--not trail me in the darkness! What! I had forgotten the bloodhound! O God, preserve me! These fiends can follow me were it as dark as pitch! God preserve me!"

An anxious expression came over his countenance, and partly from the burden he held in his arms, and partly from the weight of his thoughts, he dropped into an attitude that betokened deep depression. For the first time the hunted outlaw showed symptoms of despair.