ation between the Senora
Halberger and those just returned to her are brief, and but little
joyful. The fugitives have reached home, but not to find it a refuge.
For them it is no more a place of safety; instead, the most perilous in
which they could now or ever after sojourn. But where are they to go--
whither further flee? In all the Chaco there is not a spot that can
shelter them from such pursuers as they are expecting!

It is now near noon of the fourth day since they left the Sacred Town of
the Tovas, and in the interval they had been riding hard and fast, day
and night, scarce allowing themselves either sleep or rest. But, fast
as they have travelled, they know that Aguara, with his braves, will not
be far behind; and although less than an hour has elapsed since their
arrival at the _estancia_, Gaspar has already made preparations for
their departure from it. Assisted by the faithful Guano Indians, who of
course are to accompany them in their flight, he has caught up and
caparisoned fresh horses, with the mules belonging to the establishment.
Still the question remains unanswered--Whither are they to go?
Throughout all the vicissitudes of his eventful life, never had the
gaucho one so perplexing him, or fraught with such fears.

In the hope of finding an answer, and the better to reflect upon it, he
has drawn a little apart from the house, with the hurry and bustle going
on around it. A slight eminence, not far off in front, gives a
commanding view of the _campo_; and, taking stand upon its top, he first
casts a sweeping glance around the horizon, then fixes it only in one
direction--that southwards, towards the old _tolderia_. For, although
expecting enemies both from east and west, he knows that, coming from
either side, they will most likely approach by the Pilcomayo's bank; the
former by the trail leading up the river, the latter by the same going
down. It is not the first time for him to be standing on that elevated
spot. Every ten minutes since their return to the _estancia_, he has
been upon it, gazing out in the same way, and for the self-same purpose.
Still, as yet, he observes nothing to add to his apprehensions, already
keen enough. No living thing--much less human being--stirs over the
wide expanse of green grassy plain. For it is near the meridian hour,
and the tropical sun, pouring its fervid rays vertically down, has
forced both birds and quadrupeds inside the cooler shadow of their
cov