On the far side, otherwise deserted, the sore indignant beasts
scampered as fast as their legs could carry them whithersoever their
vaquero chose to drive.
After two hours or more, the atmosphere was charged with a certain
breathless excitement, as was natural enough. The constant cyclonic rush
of vaqueros and cattle, the angry bellowings, the increasing masses of
animals, the furious shouts of the men, had changed a peaceable
landscape into a vast theatre full of tragic possibilities. The waiting
cattle were growing more and more restless, and there was a low rumble
among them. Don Tiburcio motioned to his guests that it was time to
leave; moreover, it was nearing the dinner hour.
"Rafael!" he called. His son turned his head impatiently, but prepared
to obey; the Californian youth was brought up on rigid lines.
"Ay, must we go?" cried Adan. "I could stand here till night, even
without dinner, my friends."
"I, too, am sorry," began Roldan. "But what is the matter?"
The great masses of cattle had begun to heave suddenly. They were
uttering hoarse growls of terror. The mustangs of the vaqueros stood
suddenly still, quivering.
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