The cibolero was certainly placed in an unpleasant situation. All his hopes--lately running so high--were crushed in a single moment. His whole property taken from him--the object of his enterprise lost--his long, perilous, and painful journeyings made for nothing. He should return empty-handed, poorer than when he set out--for his own five pack-mules were gone among the rest. The oxen, and his faithful steed, tied to the carretas, alone remained. These would scarce serve to carry provision for himself and party on their journey home; no cargo--not a bale of hides--not a "bulta" of meat more than would be required for their own food! These reflections all passed through the mind of the cibolero in the space of a few moments, as he stood gazing in the direction in which the marauders had gone. He made no attempt to follow--that would have been worse than useless. On his splendid horse he might have overtaken them--only to die on the points of their lances! "A curse upon Indian duplicity!" he once more repeated; and then, rising to his feet, walked back to the corral, and gave orders for the oxen to be drawn close up and firmly fastened to the carretas. Another surprise might be attempted by some lingering party of the savages; and, as it would be unsafe to go to sleep, the cibolero and his four companions remained awake and on the alert for the remainder of the night. CHAPTER FOURTEEN. That was a _noche triste_ to Carlos--a night of painful reflections. Bereft of his property--in the midst of hostile Indians, who might change their minds, return, and massacre him and his party--many hundred miles from home, or from any settlement of whites--a wide desert to be traversed--the further discouragement that there was no object for his going home, now that he was stripped of all his trading-stock--perhaps to be laughed at on his return--no prospect of satisfaction or indemnity, for he well knew that his government would send out no expedition to revenge so humble an individual as he was--he knew, in fact, that no expedition of Spanish soldiery could penetrate to the place, even if they had the will; but to fancy Vizcarra and Roblado sending one on his account! No, no; there was no hope of his obtaining satisfaction. He was cruelly robbed, and he knew that he must endure it; but what a blighted prospect was before him! As soon as day broke he would go to the Waco camp--he would boldly upbraid them for their treachery. But what purpose would that serve? Besides, would he find them still there? No; most likely they were moving off to some other part at the time they had planned the robbery! Several times during the night a wild idea occurred to him. If he could not have indemnity he might obtain revenge. The Wacoes were not without enemies. Several bordering tribes were at war with them; and Carlos knew they had a powerful foe in the Panes.