Explore "The Border Rifles" by Gustave Aimard on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Carmela watched for a long time the Jaguar's irregular ride across country, and when he at length disappeared in the distance, in a clump of pine trees, she sadly bowed her head and re-entered the venta slowly and pensively.
"He hates him," she murmured, in a low, agitated voice; "he hates him. Will he be willing to save him?"