The guide pointed to it--saying that there we should find the man we were in search of. There was a _rancho_ among the pines. On reaching it, we might make sure of seeing Carrasco! This _rancho_ was the "head-quarters" of the _cuadrilla_--the cabin on the cliff serving as a sort of outlying post, to be used only in cases of close pursuit. The _salteadores_ had but halted there, to wait for the morning light--the more safely to make the passage of the swing bridge. Their real rendezvous was the _rancho_--a large house in the heart of the pine-forest, where the renegade assured us we would find his chief, his comrades, and their captives. "Lead on!" I cried, roused to renewed energy at thought of the last. "A hundred _pesos_ for every minute spared. On! on!" Without another word the Mexican struck off among the trees, the sergeant treading close upon his tracks. It was now broad daylight; but in five minutes after we were again in twilight darkness. We had entered the pine-forest, and were travelling among trees whose stems stood thickly around us, and whose leafy boughs, interlocking overhead, formed an umbrageous canopy scarcely penetrable by the sun. The path led labyrinthine through the close-standing trunks, and still more deviously among those that had fallen. Properly speaking there was no path; for our guide was conducting us by a route different from that usually taken by the _salteadores_. This was to secure us against the chance of an ambuscade. Unless the robbers had taken the precaution to throw out sentinels, there was not much danger of our approach being perceived; and this their _ci-devant_ comrade assured us was never done. He was confident that no picket would be placed: the _salteadores_ considering themselves safe, after having crossed the _quebrada_. Notwithstanding his assurance, we advanced with caution. It was not due to me--too excited to care--but to the sergeant. The latter kept close to the traitor, holding a cocked pistol to his ear--with the determination to shoot him down, should he show the slightest sign of a second treason! The stage-driver betrayed no such concern. Better acquainted with Mexican morals, he had full confidence in the fidelity of our guide; who had but one motive for being false, and two thousand for proving true. "Let him alone!" he muttered to the suspicious sergeant. "Leave him to take his own way. I'll go his bail for bringin' us out in the right place. If thar be any fluke, it won't be his fault. So long as he meets nobody to promise _more_ than two thousand he'll be true; an' that bid ain't like to be riz 'mong these here mountings. Leave the skunk to himself. He'll take us whar we kin trap Carrasco." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The conjecture of Sam Brown proved but partially true; though the renegade was not responsible for any part of its failure.