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"But did you not learn their names?" asked Dona Rosarita, timidly. "The elder was called Bois-Rose, the second Pepe. As to the young man " Gayferos appeared vainly endeavouring to recall the name without remarking the anguish which was depicted in the young girl's agitated frame, and visible in her anxious eyes.
"If you are not able to walk," said Pepe to Gayferos, "we shall construct a kind of litter to carry you on. We have no time to lose if we wish to escape these wretches, who, as soon as daylight appears, will begin to chase us as eagerly as ever they chased a white enemy."
The rainy had succeeded to the dry season, without anything being known of their fate, or of the expedition commanded by Don Estevan de Arechiza. Diaz was no more, having carried with him to the tomb the secret of the wonderful valley and Gayferos had followed his three liberators.
Gayferos turned his horse's head round, and the four travellers continued their journey in silence. At the expiration of an hour, during which Gayferos and the Canadian only exchanged a few words in a low tone, and to which Fabian, always absorbed in thought, gave no attention, the recollections of a past, not very remote, crowded upon the memory of the three travellers.
"Tiburcio Arellanos," continued the narrator, "is now Fabian, and Fabian is the last descendant of the Counts of Mediana a noble and powerful Spanish family." The young girl continued on her knees in prayer without appearing to listen to Gayferos' words. "Immense possessions, a lofty name, titles and honours. All these he will lay at the feet of the woman who shall accept his hand."
By a secret feeling the poor child divined that Gayferos had not yet finished. At length the latter said gently, "Fabian bore another name, Senorita; do you wish to hear it, while we are alone and without witnesses?" Rosarita turned pale. "Another name! oh, speak it?" she cried, in a trembling voice. "He was long known as Tiburcio Arellanos."
"Continue!" said the haciendado; "but, in your recital, which is deeply interesting to a man who was himself during six months held captive by the Indians, I seek in vain for any details relative to poor Don Estevan's death." "I am ignorant of them," continued Gayferos, "and I can only repeat the words spoken by the youngest of the three hunters, when I questioned him upon the subject."
"One word more," said Bois-Rose to the wounded man, "and then we shall leave you to repose. How many men has Don Estevan with him?" "Sixty." Bois-Rose now again bathed the head of the wounded Gayferos with cold water: and the unhappy man, refreshed for the moment, and weakened by loss of blood, fell into a lethargic sleep.
Gayferos paused an instant to cast a searching glance upon the countenances of his auditors, especially upon that of Dona Rosarita. He appeared to take a secret pleasure in exciting the young girl by the recital of all the circumstances best calculated to touch the heart of a woman.
Master Peter got inside in order to move the puppets, and a boy standing in front explained what was going on. The story that was acted by the puppets was that of a certain Don Gayferos, who rescued his wife Melisendra from captivity by the Moors in the city of Saragossa.
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