When Cuchillo, after the interview just described, came forth from the
hovel, the sun was no longer in the vertex of the heavens, but had
commenced his downward course to the western horizon. The earth, burned
up and dry as tinder, gave forth a thin vapoury mist, that here and
there hung over the surface in condensed masses, giving that appearance
known as the _mirage_. Limpid lakes presented themselves to the eye,
where not a drop of water was known to exist--as if nature, to preserve
a perfect harmony, offered these to the imagination in compensation for
the absence of the precious fluid itself. Far off in the forest, could
be heard at intervals the crackling of branches under the burning rays
of the sun--just as if the woods were on fire. But the trees were
beginning to open their leaves to the southern breeze that freshened as
the hours passed on, and they appeared impatiently to await the
twilight, when the night-dews would once more freshen their foliage.
Cuchillo gave a whistle, at which well-known signal his horse came
galloping up to him. The poor beast appeared to suffer terribly from
the thirst. His master, moved with pity, poured into a bowl a few drops
of water from his skin bottle; and although it was scarce enough to
moisten the animal's lips, it seemed to bring back the vigour of his
spirit.
Cuchillo having saddled and bridled his horse, and buckled on a pair of
huge spurs, called one of the attendants of Don Estevan. To this man he
gave orders to have the pack of mules harnessed, as well as to collect
the _remuda_ to be sent on in advance--in order that the sleeping
quarters for the night should be ready upon their arrival. The place
where the travellers were to rest that night--as Cuchillo informed the
domestic--was to be at the cistern known as _La Poza_.
"But _La Poza_ is not on the route to Tubac!" objected the servant; "it
lies out of the way and on the road leading to the _Hacienda del
Venado_."
"_You_ have nothing to do with the route," peremptorily answered
Cuchillo, "your master intends spending some days at the Hacienda del
Venado. Therefore do as I have ordered you."
The Hacienda del Venado was the most important estate between Arispe and
the Indian frontier, and its proprietor had the reputation of being the
most hospitable man in the whole province. It was, therefore, without
repugnance that the attendants of Don Estevan heard this news from
Cuchillo--since, although their route of march would be extended in
making the detour by the Hacienda del Venado, they knew they would enjoy
several days of pleasant repose at this hospitable mansion.
The man to whom Cuchillo had given his orders, immediately saddled his
horse and set off to collect the _remuda_. He soon discovered the
horses browsing in the woods near at hand, and collected, as usual,
around the bell-mare.
As he approached, the troop bounded off in affright--just as wild horses
would have done; but the active horseman was too quick for them, for
already the running noose of his lazo was around the neck of one of
them. The horse, perceiving that he was caught, and knowing well the
lazo--whose power he had often felt--yielded without resistance, and
permitted himself to be led quietly away. The _capitansa_ (bell-mare)
knew the signal and followed the horse of the servant, with all the
others trooping at her heels.
Two of the freshest of the drove were left behind, for Don Estevan and
the Senator. These would be enough to serve them as far as La Poza--the
place of their intended night halt--which was only a few hours distant.
The other horses, guided by the bell-mare, were taken on in advance, and
the drove soon disappeared behind the cloud of dust thrown up by their
hoofs.
Shortly after, the Senator made his appearance at the door of the hut
where he had taken his siesta--a necessity almost imperious in these hot
climates. At the same time, Don Estevan presented himself in the open
air. The atmosphere, though a little fresher than when they had gone
inside, was still sufficiently stifling to be disagreeable.
"Carramba!" cried the Senator, after inhaling a few mouthfuls of it, "it
is fire, _not_ air, one has to breathe here. If these hovels were not a
complete nest of snakes and scorpions, I should prefer staying in them
until night, rather than launch myself into this dreadful furnace."
After this doleful speech the Senator climbed reluctantly into his
saddle, and he and Don Estevan took the route, riding side by side, as
in the morning. Behind, at a few paces distance, followed Cuchillo and
Baraja, and after these the little _recua_ of mules with the other
domestics.
For the first hour of their march the shade of the trees rendered the
heat supportable, but soon the forest ended, and the road debouched upon
the open plains that appeared interminable.
It is hardly possible to conceive a more dreary prospect than that
presented by those arid plains of Northern Mexico--naked, white, and
almost destitute of vegetation. Here and there at long distances on the
route, may be seen a tall pole which denotes the presence of some
artificial well-cistern; but as you draw near, the leathern buckets, by
which the water is to be raised, show by their stiff contracted outlines
that for a long time they have held no water, and that the well is dried
up--a sad fortune for the traveller whose evil star has guided him into
these deserts during the dry season, especially if at the end of his
day's journey he reckons on a supply from these treacherous
depositaries. If his canteen is not well filled, or if he is by any
chance detained upon his route, his story is likely to be that of
hundreds who have perished of thirst upon these plains, between a heaven
and an earth that are equally unpitying.
"Is it true, then, Don Estevan," inquired the Senator, as he wiped the
perspiration from his brow, "that you have been through this country
before?"
"Certainly," replied Don Estevan; "and it is just because I have been
here before that I am here now. But what brought me here formerly, and
why I now return, is a secret I shall tell you presently. Let me say
that it is a secret sufficient to turn a man's brain, provided he is not
one with a bold, firm heart. Are you that man, senor Senator?" added
the Spaniard, fixing his eyes upon his companion, with a calm regard.
The Senator made no reply, farther than by giving a slight shiver that
was perceptible through his frame, and which denoted that he felt some
apprehension as to the role he might be called upon to play.
The Spaniard did not fail to observe his uneasiness, as he resumed:
"Meanwhile, senor, let me ask you, are you decided to follow my advice,
and restore your fortunes by some rich matrimonial alliance which I
shall arrange for you?"
"Without doubt I am," replied the Senator, "though I can't see what
interest that can be to you, Senor Don Estevan."
"That is my affair and my secret. I am not one of those who sell the
skin of the bear before the animal is caught. It is enough for you to
know, Don Vicente Tragaduros y Despilfarro, that I have a hundred
thousand dollars at your disposal the moment you say the word--it only
remains for you to hear my conditions, and subscribe to them."
"I don't say no," replied the Senator, "but I candidly avow that for the
life of me I cannot think of any one possessing such an inheritance as
you mention--not one in the whole province."
"Do you know the daughter of the rich landowner Augusta Pena--at whose
hacienda, please God, we shall sleep to-morrow night?"
"Oh!" exclaimed the Senator, "the proprietor of the Hacienda del Venado?
I have heard of her--_her_ dowry should be a million if report speaks
true; but what folly it would be for me to pretend--"
"Bah!" interrupted the Spaniard. "It is a fortress that well besieged
may capitulate like any other."
"It is said that the daughter of Pena is pretty."
"Beautiful."
"You know her, then?" said the Senator, regarding his companion with an
astonished look. "Perhaps," he added, "it is to the hacienda of Venado
that you make those periodical and mysterious journeys, so much talked
about at Arispe?"
"Precisely so."
"Ah! I understand you," said the Senator, turning a sly look upon his
companion, "it was the beautiful eyes of the daughter that attracted
you, the--?"
"You are mistaken. It was the father, who was simply the banker from
whom, from time to time, I drew the funds necessary for my expenses at
Arispe."
"Is that also the object of our present journey?"
"Partly," replied the Spaniard, "but not altogether--there is another
object, which I will communicate to you hereafter."
"Well, senor," answered the Senator, "you are a mystery to me from head
to foot; but I abandon myself blindly to your guidance."
"You do well," said Don Estevan, "and in all likelihood your sun, for a
while eclipsed, will shine out again with more than its former
splendour."