"But why did not you come straight to our encampment, if you were seeking us, as you say?" Ruperto burst into a laugh. "That would have been a fine idea, to be welcomed with a shower of slugs! No, I think I acted more wisely as I have." "We have been on your trail for three days." "Why did you not show yourselves sooner?" "I was not quite certain it was you." "Well, that is possible. Will you not sit down?" "What for? Now that we have met, I hope you will come to our camp?" "I did not like to propose it; you see we are not alone, but have a stranger with us." "What matter, if you answer for him?" "With my life." "Well, then, the friends of our friends are ours, and have a claim to our attention." "I thank you, Caballero," the Scalper replied with a bow; "I trust you will have no cause to repent having offered me hospitality." "The company in which I find you is an excellent guarantee to me, Señor," the adventurer continued with a courteous smile. "Do you intend to lead us to your camp tonight?" Ruperto asked. "Why not? We are not more than fifteen miles from it at the most." "That is true; but this caballero is wounded, and so long a distance after a fatiguing day--" "Oh, I feel very well, I assure you. My strength has almost entirely returned; I even believe that, were it absolutely necessary, I could sit a horse. Hence do not put yourself out of the way for me, I beg," the old man said. "As it is so, we will start whenever you like." "All right," said Sandoval; "however, I will undertake to lead you by a road which will shorten your distance one half." All being thus arranged, the horses were saddled afresh, and they started. The strangers were on foot; the Scalper would not enter the litter, and even insisted on it being left behind, declaring that he did not want it, and cutting a rather long branch, he converted it into a staff. He then took his place by Sandoval's side, who, delighted by his manner, gave him a glance of satisfaction. Sandoval, as we have said, was the Chief of the men who had so suddenly fallen on the bivouac of the adventurers. These men were pirates of the prairies. In a previous work, we have described what they are; but as it is probable that many of our readers do not know the book to which we allude, we will explain, in as few words as possible, what sort of persons these gentry are. In the United States, and most of the countries of the new world, men are encountered who, not being restrained by any species of moral obligation or family consideration, yield themselves without restraint to all the violence of their evil passions. These men, led in the first instance into debauchery by indolence, and almost certain of impunity in countries where the police are powerless to protect honest people and enforce the laws, at length grow to commit the most atrocious crimes in open daylight, though this is common enough in those countries where the strongest make the laws.