rain of interrogative conjecture
now on another matter, which has also struck him as being strange.

"Why are they going off that way, I wonder? It isn't their direct route
homeward, surely? I don't know the exact spot where the _gringo_ has
established himself; but didn't Aguara say the nearest way to it is
along the river's bank, down to their old _tolderia_? If so, certainly
they're making a round about. Ha! I fancy I know the reason; natural,
too, as the other. The Senor Ludwig must have known they were Tovas who
attacked him, and under the belief that they've gone on to their former
place of abode, dreads a second encounter with them. No wonder he
should, having found them such treacherous allies--enemies instead of
friends. Ha, ha, ha! won't that puzzle him? Of course, he hasn't yet
heard of Naraguana's death--couldn't--they all said so. Well, it's a
bit of good luck for me their going that round. My road lies direct
down the river, and now I may proceed upon it without fear of being
spied by them. That would never do just yet. They shall have sight of
me soon enough--sooner than they'll like it. And this reminds me I
mustn't waste any more time here; it's too precious. Now off, and home
to El Supremo, who'll jump with very joy at the news I have for him."

Giving his horse a touch of the spur, he heads him along the high bank,
still keeping within the skirt of timber, and riding slowly through the
tangle of obstructing bushes; but at length getting out upon the old
trail, where it goes down to the ford, he turns along it, in the
opposite direction, towards the deserted _tolderia_. And now, with
nothing further to obstruct him, he plies the spur vigorously, and keeps
on at full gallop, not looking ahead, however, but with eyes all the
while scanning the plain to his left, apprehensively, as fearing there
to see a tall black hat, with a bunch of ostrich feathers floating above
it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

WHY COME THEY NOT?

A night of dread suspense has been passed at the estancia of Ludwig
Halberger. No one there has thought of sleep. Even the dark-skinned
domestics--faithful Guano Indians--touched with sympathy for the senora,
their mistress, do not retire to rest. Instead, retainers all, outside
the house as within, sit up throughout the night, taking part with her
in the anxious vigil.

As the hours drag wearily along, the keener become her apprehensions;
that presentiment of the morni