"He is not going in that direction; besides, if he did, we are not bound to follow such trails as he may choose for us; but he has said he is not going that way--he don't intend to follow a trail. He knows some nest of these Jicarillas in the mountains,--like enough; and to rout them-- there's a bit of glory for some one. A few scalps would look well over the gate. It hasn't had a fresh ornament of that sort since we've been here! What say you? It's but a fifty-mile ride." "I have no objection to the thing--it _would_ look well; but I shall not go myself. I don't like being along with the fellow out there or anywhere else--you can understand that feeling, I suppose?" Here the Comandante looked significantly at his companion. "Oh! certainly--certainly," replied the latter. "_You_ may take the troop; or, if you are not inclined, send Garcia or the sergeant with them." "I'll go myself," replied Roblado. "It will be safer. Should the cibolero incline to follow certain trails, I can lead him away from them, or refuse--yes it will be better for me to go myself. By my soul! I want to have a brush with these redskins. I hope to bring back some `hair,' as they say. Ha ha! ha!" "When would you start?" "Instantly--the sooner the better. That will be more agreeable to all parties, and will prove our promptitude and patriotism. Ha! ha! ha!" "You had better give the sergeant his orders to get the men ready, while I make our cibolero happy." Roblado hastened down from the azotea, and the next moment the bugle was heard sounding "boots and saddles." CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. During the conversation that had taken place the cibolero sat, motionless upon his horse where he had first halted. The two officers were no longer in view, as they had stepped back upon the azotea, and the high parapet concealed them. But Carlos guessed the object of their temporary retirement, and waited patiently. The group of soldiers, lounging in the gateway, and scanning him and his horse, now amounted to thirty or forty men; but the bugle, sounding the well-known call, summoned them off to the stables, and the sentry alone remained by the gate. Both he and the soldiers, having overheard the last conversation, guessed the object of the summons. Carlos felt assured that his request was about to be granted, though as yet the Comandante had not told him. Up to that moment the cibolero had conceived no fixed plan of action. How could he, where so much depended on chance? Only one idea was before his mind that could be called definite--that was _to get Vizcarra alone_. If but for a single minute, it would suffice. Entreaty, he felt, would be idle, and might waste time and end in his own defeat and death. A minute would be enough for vengeance; and with the thoughts of his sister's ruin fresh on his mind, he was burning for this. To anything after he scarce gave a thought. For escape, he trusted to chance and his own superior energy.