t can we do for
you?"

"Pass me off with these fellows of Arroyo: as you are intending to do
your comrade here. Say that I am charged with the ransom of a prisoner
at the hacienda Del Valle, and thus obtain for me permission to pass the
lines. If you do this, I promise you a recompense. And since you are
both about to share the bounty of some one between you--"

"Only a little commission," interrupted Zapote; "and if you knew what it
is--"

"Oh, I have no intention of claiming my third in the reward. I don't
care to know what it is."

"But you shall know, for all that," replied Zapote, apparently carried
away by an irresistible desire of giving his confidence. "Among
friends--for we are so at present--there should be no concealment."

"Well, then, what is it?" inquired the Colonel.

"It is the will of a rich uncle in favour of a nephew who believed
himself disinherited, and to whom we are now taking it. You may fancy
whether we have just grounds for expecting a good perquisite."

"Are you sure that the will is not a false one?" inquired the Colonel,
not without suspicions as to the veracity of Zapote.

"Neither of us knows how to read," replied the ex-guerillero, with an
air of affected innocence.

"But take my word for it, cavallero," he hastily added, "we had better
get out of this place as quickly as we can. We have already lost too
much time."

"But my horse," objected the Colonel, "what's to be done with him?"

"Oh, you have a horse? Well, then, the best way is to leave him behind:
he will only embarrass you."

"He would certainly do so," interrupted the messenger, "if he was like a
horse I once knew. Ah, that was a devil of an animal! If you had only
heard--"

The man was alluding to a horse he had once seen in the stables of his
master, Don Mariano de Silva, and which was no other than Roncador
himself. He was about to recount the peculiarities of this famous
steed--which would no doubt have led to a recognition between himself
and Don Rafael--when his speech was interrupted by voices heard in
different directions, as if men were approaching the spot from different
sides.

Both Don Rafael and the messenger interrogated with anxious regard the
countenance of Zapote.

"_Carrambo_!" exclaimed the latter, "it may be more serious than I
thought."

The voices had now broken forth into shouts and cries--as if uttered by
men engaged in a chase; and the sounds expressed a sort of vengeful