“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 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.”


