--no wonder. _Ay de mi_? Another
of that poor family doomed--and to worse than death!"

At the same time Cypriano is reflecting in a somewhat similar fashion,
though he makes no remark. The strange exhibition saddens him beyond
the power of speech. His cousin has gone crazed!

They had headed their horses, and were about to ride rapidly after, when
they saw him stop; and now moving gently forward with their eyes on him,
they see him replace the cap upon his head, and bend downward, with gaze
given to the ground. Some new fancy dictated by a disordered brain,
think they. What will he do next? What will they see?

And what _do_ they see on drawing nearer to him? That which makes both
of them feel foolish enough; at the same time that it rejoices them to
think they have been the victims of a self-deception. For before they
are quite up to the spot where he has halted, they perceive a large
space of whitish colour, where the surface mud has been tossed and mixed
up with the substratum of saltpetre--all done by the hoofs of horses, as
even at a distance they can tell.

"Come along here, you laggards!" cries Ludwig in a tone of triumph;
"I've something to show you. Feast your eyes upon this!"

While speaking he nods to the ground by his horse's head, indicating the
disturbed tract; then, adding as he raises his hand, and points
outward--

"And on that!"

The "that" he refers to is a white list leading away westward as far as
they can see--evidently the trail taken by those they are in pursuit of.

Long ere this, both Gaspar and Cypriano have full comprehension of what
perplexed while alarming them. But neither says a word of the
suspicions they had entertained concerning him. Each in his own mind
has resolved never to speak of them, the gaucho, as he comes up again,
crying out--

"Bravo!" then adding with an air of gracious humility, "So, Senor
Ludwig, you, too, have beaten me! Beaten us all! You've set us on the
right trail now; one which, if I mistake not, will conduct us to the end
of our journey, without need of sunshine, or any other contrivance."

"And that end," interposes Cypriano, "will be in a town or camp of Tovas
Indians, at the tent of the scoundrel Aguara;" then, adding excitedly,
"Oh! that I were there now!"

"Have patience, _hijo mio_," counsels Gaspar; "you'll be there in good
time, and that very soon. For, from something I remember, I don't think
we've much more journey to make.