"Perhaps I may be mistaken," ironically answered Gaspacho. "In any case, if you wish to see the Captain--which rather astonishes me--you will have to cross the ford all the same; and there you may hear of his whereabouts. My faith! that is a splendid cloak you have got on your shoulders. It appears a mile too big for you; and looks as if it would just fit a man of my dimensions." On saying these words, the bandit put spurs to his horse and galloped off--leaving Don Cornelio with an unpleasant impression upon his mind, caused by his ambiguous speeches and the admiration the stranger had expressed for his cloak. "I fear we have fallen among wicked people here," said he, addressing himself to Costal. "You see how little this ragged fellow makes of an officer of Morelos; and doubtless his master will make still less. Well--we must be prudent, and wait until night before we attempt to go forward among them." "Prudence is not always a bad substitute for courage," remarked Costal, with a shrug. "We shall do as you desire, Senor Captain; and I shall be careful we do not fall either into the hands of the loyalists, or those of the followers of Arroyo, before arriving in the presence of that gentleman himself. Otherwise, I might lose the one peculiar day of my life, that I have so long looked forward to. Trust to me. I think you can say that I never let you remain long in a dangerous situation?" "You are my providence," cried the Captain, with friendly warmth. "It is true; and it will always give me pleasure to acknowledge it." "No, no," interrupted Costal, "what I may have done for you is not worth talking about. Meanwhile, we will act wisely to take a wink of sleep-- Clara and myself more especially: since, during all this night, we shan't have another opportunity to close our eyes." "You are right--I perfectly agree with you. Let us all have some sleep then." As the sun was still hot, Clara and Costal stretched themselves under the shadow of a spreading tree, and both, with that indifference to danger to which a life of adventures had habituated them, were soon buried in profound slumber; during which the negro was constantly endeavouring, in dreams, to capture the Siren with dishevelled hair, and force her to reveal to him some rich _placer_ of gold. As for Don Cornelio, he lay for a long time awake: anxious and apprehensive about the result of his approaching interview with the guerilla chief. At length, imitating the example of his two _compagnons de voyage_, he also fell asleep. CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR. THE TALISMAN TRANSMITTED.