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Though he has done all in his power to conceal from his people the true facts in relation to her father's death, still certain details of the tragedy have leaked out; and it has become known to most, that the hunter-naturalist is not only dead, but died by the hand of an assassin. This last, however, they suppose to have been the other white man late on a visit to them Valdez the vaqueano.
The young Tovas chief sits upon his horse with heart audibly beating. He has no doubt cannot have as to who were the pursued ones; no more, that they have been overtaken. But with what result? Has the vaqueano killed both father and daughter? Or were the shots fired by Halberger, killing Valdez himself and the two who went with him?
With eyes directed downward, they keep along the return tracks; having already observed that these come no farther than the ford, and turn back by the water's edge "Aha!" exclaims the vaqueano, pulling up again ere he has proceeded three lengths of his horse; "they've left the trail here, and turned off up stream! That wouldn't be their route home, would it?" "No," answers Aguara.
One of these resplendent in a feather-embroidered manta, Kaolin recognises as his rival Aguara; while the gaucho identifies the other as his oldest, deadliest, and most dangerous enemy, Valdez, the vaqueano.
The army's fate, the success of a battle, the conquest of a province, is entirely dependent upon his integrity and skill; and, strange to say, there is scarcely an instance on record of treachery on the part of a vaqueano.
By chance, Kaolin himself has a special dislike for the vaqueano Valdez; while as to the others, despite the restored treaty forced upon them by Aguara, their friendship has not been restored with it; and they urge their horses forward, burning for an encounter with the cuarteleros of Paraguay.
And just as the tails of their horses disappear among the leaves, Aguara, who has kept his place, hears another horse neighing within the thicket at a point farther off. Then there is a quick trampling of hooves, followed by a hurried rush, and the swishing of bent branches, as the vaqueano and his two aides dash on through the sumacs.
Stand with him at midnight on the Pampa, let the track be lost, no moon or stars; the vaqueano quietly dismounts, examines the foliage of the trees, if any are near, and if there are none, plucks from the ground a handful of roots, chews them, smells and tastes the soil, and tells you that so many hours' travel due north or south will bring you to your destination.
Still, he seems in doubt as to what answer he should make, or what course he ought to pursue in the business between them. "What would you have me do, Senor Rufino?" he asks in a patois of Spanish, which many Chaco Indians can speak; himself better than common, from his long and frequent intercourse with Halberger's family. "What want you?" "I don't want you to do anything," rejoins the vaqueano.
With this sinister purpose in view, and the expectation of a rich reward, the vaqueano has given his roadster but little rest since parting from the Tovas' camp; and the animal is now nigh broken down. Little recks its rider. Unlike a true gaucho, he cares not what mischance may befall his steed, so long as it serves his present necessity.
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