"Probably with the Texans who attacked my party."
"And where are they?"
Captain Arguez's brow grew dark. "You are asking too many questions for a mere boy," he growled. "I do not know where they are, nor do I care, so long as they do not bother me any more," and in this he spoke the exact truth. He cared nothing for his men, and wished only to get back to San Antonio in safety.
The Mexican had had nothing to eat through out the day, and was glad enough to avail himself of what little was left in the hamper. Then he put his mustang beside the others, and made him self as comfortable as possible near Ralph.
"Do you know the way to Bexar?" he demanded.
Ralph shook his head. "I don't know the way anywhere; I am totally lost."
"From whence do you come?"
"From the Guadalupe River, at least thirty or forty miles from here."
"Then I must be almost as far from Bexar?"
"Yes; perhaps farther."
"It is too bad! I was foolish. But let that pass, what is done cannot be undone."
Captain Arguez had relapsed into Spanish, so Ralph did not understand his last words. He remained silent, wondering what the officer would
