"They give that name to their shanties."
"To whom does it belong--this _jacale_?"
"_Don Mauricio, el mustenero_."
"Maurice the mustanger!" translates the ready interpreter.
A murmur of mutual congratulation runs through the crowd. After two
days of searching--fruitless, as earnest--they have struck a trail,--the
trail of the murderer!
Those who have alighted spring back into their saddles. All take up
their reins, ready to ride on.
"We don't wish to be rude, Miss Martinez--if that be your name; but you
must guide us to this place you speak of."
"It takes me a little out of my way--though not far. Come on,
cavalleros! I shall show you, if you are determined on going there."
Isidora re-crosses the belt of chapparal--followed by the hundred
horsemen, who ride stragglingly after her.
She halts on its western edge; between which and the Alamo there is a
stretch of open prairie.
"Yonder!" says she, pointing over the plain; "you see that black spot on
the horizon? It is the top of an _alhuehuete_. Its roots are in the
bottom lands of the Alamo. Go there! There is a canon leading down the
cliff. Descend. You will find, a little beyond, the _jacale_ of which
I've told you."
The searchers are too much in earnest to stay for further directions.
Almost forgetting her who has given them, they spur off across the
plain, riding straight for the cypress.
One of the party alone lingers--not the leader, but a man equally
interested in all that has transpired. Perhaps more so, in what has
been said in relation to the lady seen by Isidora. He is one who knows
Isidora's language, as well as his own native tongue.
"Tell me, _nina_," says he, bringing his horse alongside hers, and
speaking in a tone of solicitude--almost of entreaty--"Did you take
notice of the horse ridden by this lady?"
"_Carrambo_! yes. What a question, cavallero! Who could help noticing
it?"
"The colour?" gasps the inquirer.
"_Un musteno pintojo_."
"A spotted mustang! Holy Heaven!" exclaims Cassius Calhoun, in a half
shriek, half groan, as he gallops after the searchers--leaving Isidora
in the belief, that, besides her own, there is one other heart burning
with that fierce fire which only death can extinguish!