to the fagots piled in various places, but
Don Estevan cried--

"Not yet; it is, perhaps, a false alarm, and until we have the certainty
of attack we must not light up the camp to betray ourselves."

At the words "false alarm," a smile played over Cuchillo's features.

"However," added Don Estevan, "let every one saddle his horse and be
prepared." Then he returned to his tent, making a sign to Diaz to
accompany him.

"That means, friend Baraja," said Benito, "that if the orders are given
to light the fires, we are sure to be attacked--at night too; it is
terrible."

"Who knows that better than I?" said Baraja, "have you ever been present
at such a thing?"

"Never; that is why I dread it so much."

"Well, if you had, you would dread it more."

Cuchillo, as he drew near the tent, arranged his countenance and threw
back his long hair--as though the wind had blown it about in his rapid
flight--and then entered the tent like a man out of breath and
pretending to wipe the perspiration from his forehead. Oroche had
glided in with Diaz.

Cuchillo's story was brief: in reconnoitring the places towards which
the expedition should advance, he had gone further than was prudent.

Diaz interrupted him.

"I had taken such precautions to deceive the Indians by false tracks,"
said he, "I had so misled them, that you must have quitted the line of
march and gone from right to left."

"Yes," replied the outlaw, "I lost my way, deceived by the monotony of
these endless plains where each hillock resembles the other."

"What!" cried Diaz, ironically. "Had a dweller in cities been so
deceived it might be believed; but you--fear must have thrown a mist
before your eyes!"

"Fear!" replied Cuchillo; "I know it no more than you do."

"Then you must be growing shortsighted, Senor Cuchillo."

"However it happened, I lost myself; and, but for the column of smoke, I
should not have regained my way so quickly. I was, however, forced to
make a circuit on perceiving a party of Indians, and only owe the start
I have got upon them to the speed of my good horse."

As he spoke, Don Estevan frowned more than once. Oroche left the tent,
but immediately re-entering, said--

"The Indians are there! Look at those black shadows on the plain over
which the moon throws a distant light; those are men sent to reconnoitre
our encampment."

Over the sand of the desert they could indeed see men on horseback
advancing, and then disappearing