"Come in, sergeant!" shouted the colonel. The brutal-looking trooper walked into the room, and, from his appearance, it was plain he had just dismounted from a ride. "Well, sergeant?" said Vizcarra, as the man drew near; "speak out! Captain Roblado may know what you have to say." "The party, colonel, lives in the very last house down the valley,--full ten miles from here. There are but the three, mother, sister, and brother--the same you saw at the fiesta. There are three or four Tagno servants, who help the man in his business. He owns a few mules, oxen, and carts, that's all. These he makes use of in his expeditions, upon one of which he is about to start in three or four days at the furthest. It is to be a long one, I heard, as he is to take a new route over the Llano Estacado." "Over the Llano Estacado?" "Such, I was told, was his intention." "Anything else to say, sergeant?" "Nothing, colonel, except that the girl has a sweetheart--the same young fellow who bet so heavily against you at the fiesta." "The devil!" exclaimed Vizcarra, while a deep shadow crossed his forehead. "He, indeed! I suspected that. Where does he live?" "Not far above them, colonel. He is the owner of a rancho, and is reputed rich--that is for a ranchero." "Help yourself to a glass of Catalan, sergeant." The trooper stretched out his hand, laid hold of a bottle, and, having filled one of the glasses, bowed respectfully to the officers, and drank off the brandy at a draught. Seeing that he was not wanted further, he touched his shako and withdrew. "So, camarado, you see it is right enough, so far as you are concerned." "And for you also!" replied Roblado. "Not exactly." "Why not?" "I don't like the story of this sweetheart--this ranchero. The fellow possesses money--a spirit, too, that may be troublesome. He's not the man one would be called upon to fight--at least not one in my position; but _he_ is one of these people--what the cibolero is not--and has their sympathies with him. It would be a very different thing to get involved with him in an affair. Bah! what need I care? I never yet failed. Good night, camarado!" "_Buenos noches_!" replied Roblado; and both, rising simultaneously from the table, retired to their respective sleeping-rooms. CHAPTER TWENTY. The "ranchos" and "haciendas" of the valley extended nearly ten miles along the stream below San Ildefonso. Near the town they were studded more thickly; but, as you descended the stream, fewer were met with, and those of a poorer class. The fear of the "Indios bravos" prevented those who were well off from building their establishments at any great distance from the Presidio. Poverty, however, induced others to risk themselves nearer the frontier; and, as for several years the settlement had not been disturbed, a number of small farmers and graziers had established themselves as far as eight or ten miles distance below the town.