The poor old fellow was crying, I believe, his utterance was so
husky. Before leaving I gave him on a scrap of paper my address in
Montevideo, and bade him take it to Don Florentino Blanco with a request
to write me a letter in the course of the next two or three days to
inform me of Don Hilario's movements. We then trotted softly away over
the sward, and in about half an hour struck the road leading from Rocha
to Montevideo. This we followed till daylight, scarcely pausing once
from our swift gallop, and a hundred times during that dark ride over
a country utterly unknown to me I blessed the little witch Cleta; for
never was there a more steady, sure-footed beast than the ugly roan
that carried my companion, and when we drew rein in the pale morning
light he seemed fresh as when we started. We then left the highway and
rode across country in a north-westerly direction for a distance of
eight or nine miles, for I was anxious to be far away from public roads
and from the prying, prating people that use them. About eleven o'clock
that morning we had breakfast at a _rancho,_ then rode on again
till we came to a forest of scattered thorn-trees growing on the slopes
of a range of hills. It was a wild, secluded spot, with water and good
pasturage for the horses and pleasant shade for ourselves; so, after
unsaddling and turning loose our horses to feed, we sat down to rest
under a large tree with our backs against its portly trunk.
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