He is like one of your English bull-dogs.

He never knows when he is beaten." After a while the country became more open, with here and there patches of cultivation; huts were more frequent and we met several groups of peons who, however, eyed us so suspiciously that we thought it inexpedient to ask them any questions.
About an hour before sunset we perceived in the near distance a solitary horseman; but as his face was turned the other way he did not see us.
"He looks like one of our fellows," observed Carmen, after scanning him closely.

"All the same, he may not be.

Let us slip behind this acacia-bush and watch his movements." The man himself seemed to be watching.

After a short halt, he rode away and returned, but whether halting or moving he was always on the lookout, and as might appear, keenly expectant.
At length he came our way.
"I do believe--_Por Dios_ it is--Guido Pasto, my own man!" and Carmen, greatly excited, rushed from his hiding-place shouting, "Guido!" at the top of his voice.
I followed him, equally excited but less boisterous.
Guido, recognizing his master's voice, galloped forward and greeted us warmly, for though he acted as Carmen's servant he was a free _llanero_, and expected to be treated as a gentleman and a friend.
"_Gracias a Dios!_" he said; "I was beginning to fear that we had passed you.