This was not improbable. As already stated, the Wacoes and Panes were sworn foes; and as soon as the former should hear that the latter were in the neighbourhood, Carlos felt sure they would go in pursuit of them. He would share in this pursuit with his little band, and, in the event of the Panes being defeated, might get back his _mulada_. His first impulse, therefore, was, to gallop to the Waco camp--apprise them of the fact that the Pane was on the war-trail, and then join them in search of the latter. Just then both he and Antonio remembered that the Panes had themselves gone in the direction of the Waco camp! It was not two miles distant-- they could hardly fail to find it, even in the night. What if they had taken the Wacoes by surprise, and had already made their attack! It was quite probable--more than probable. The time and the hour were just in keeping. The estampeda had occurred before midnight. No doubt they were then on their way to the Waco village. They would just be in time to make their attack, at the usual hour for such forays, between midnight and morning. Carlos feared he might be too late to give warning. His Waco friends may have already perished! Whether or no, he determined to proceed at once to their encampment. Leaving Antonio and the peons with directions to guard and defend his own camp to the last, he rode off, armed both with rifle and bow. It was yet but grey day, but he knew the trail leading to the Waco village, and followed it without difficulty. He rode with caution, scanning the timber copses before approaching them; and running his eye along the crests of the ridges as he advanced. This caution was not unnecessary. The Panes could not be far off--they might still be in ambush between him and the Waco camp, or halted among the hills. The cibolero had but little fear of meeting one or two of them. He rode a horse in which he had full confidence; and he knew that no Pane could overtake him; but he might be surrounded by numbers, and intercepted before he could reach the Waco lodges. That was the reason why he advanced with so much caution. His ears were set to listen attentively. Every sound was noted and weighed--the "gobble" of the wild turkey from the branches of the oak; the drumming of the ruffed grouse on some dry knoll; the whistling of the fallow-deer; or the tiny bark of the prairie marmot. All these were well-known sounds; and as each was uttered, the cibolero stopped and listened attentively. Under other circumstances he would not have heeded them, but he knew that these sounds could be imitated, and his ear was bent to detect any counterfeit. He could distinguish the Pane trail of the previous night. A strong band there must have been, by the numerous tracks on the grass. At the crossing of a stream Carlos could detect the prints of moccasins in the sand. There were still some of the party afoot then, though, no doubt, the stolen _mulada_ had mounted a good many.