It was still in his train, borne on the backs of seven strong mules, heavily loaded.

These formed an _atajo_ or pack-train, guided and driven by the two beardless men of the party, who seemed to understand mule driving as thoroughly as if they had been trained to the calling of the _arriero_; and perhaps so had they been.
The other two took no trouble with the pack-animals, but rode on in front, conversing _sans souci_, and in a somewhat jocular vein.
The heavily-bearded man was astride a splendid black horse; not a Mexican mustang, like that of his companions, but a large sinewy animal, that showed the breed of Kentucky.

And so should he--since he was the same steed Frank Hamersley had been compelled to leave behind in that rapid rush into the crevice of the cliff.
"This time, Roblez, we've made a pretty fair haul of it," remarked he who bestrode the black.

"What with the silks and laces--to say nothing of this splendid mount between my legs--I think I may say that our time has not been thrown away." "Yours hasn't, anyhow.

My share won't be much." "Come, come, _teniente_! don't talk in that way.