The Scalp Hunters, A Romance of Northern Mexico, by Captain Mayne Reid. 

________________________________________________________________________This is very much in the cowboys and Indians genre, and there can be nodoubt that the author knew exactly what he was writing about, and hadlived through similar experiences. 

It was quite a hard book to transcribe, though the copy used was niceand clean, because of the very large number of Mexican-Spanish words andphrases. There was also a great deal of speech by people whose grammarand words were supposed to indicate a lower education. Hence it wasnot at all easy to present the book as the author would have liked, butwe think that at last we have got it just about right. 

On writing this book Reid had the general public in mind. It was oneof his first. It was not until later that he adopted a more peacefulstyle and wrote for a boy readership, saying that in those books therewas not a single passage that a boy could not read aloud to his motheror his sister. This book falls just outside that scope. 

________________________________________________________________________THE SCALP HUNTERS, A ROMANCE OF NORTHERN MEXICO, BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID. 

CHAPTER ONE. 

THE WILD WEST. 

Unroll the world's map, and look upon the great northern continent ofAmerica. Away to the wild west, away toward the setting sun, awaybeyond many a far meridian, let your eyes wander. Rest them wheregolden rivers rise among peaks that carry the eternal snow. Rest themthere. 

You are looking upon a land whose features are un-furrowed by humanhands, still bearing the marks of the Almighty mould, as upon themorning of creation; a region whose every object wears the impress ofGod's image. His ambient spirit lives in the silent grandeur of itsmountains, and speaks in the roar of its mighty rivers: a regionredolent of romance, rich in the reality of adventure. 

Follow me, with the eye of your mind, through scenes of wild beauty, ofsavage sublimity. 

I stand in an open plain. I turn my face to the north, to the south, tothe east, and to the west; and on all sides behold the blue circle ofthe heavens girdling around me. Nor rock, nor tree, breaks the ring ofthe horizon. What covers the broad expanse between? Wood? water?grass? No; flowers. As far as my eye can range, it rests only onflowers, on beautiful flowers!

I am looking as on a tinted map, an enamelled picture brilliant withevery hue of the prism. 

Yonder is golden yellow, where the helianthus turns her dial-like faceto the sun. Yonder, scarlet, where the malva erects its red banner. Here is a parterre of the purple monarda, there the euphorbia sheds itssilver leaf. Yonder the orange predominates in the showy flowers of theasclepia; and beyond, the eye roams over the pink blossoms of thecleome. 

The breeze stirs them. Millions of corollas are waving their gaudystandards. The tall stalks of the helianthus bend and rise in longundulations, like billows on a golden sea. 

They are at rest again. The air is filled with odours sweet as theperfumes of Araby or Ind. Myriads of insects flap their gay wings:flowers of themselves. The bee-birds skirr around, glancing like straysunbeams; or, poised on whirring wings, drink from the nectared cups;and the wild bee, with laden limbs, clings among the honeyed pistils, orleaves for his far hive with a song of joy. 

Who planted these flowers? Who hath woven them into these picturedparterres? Nature. It is her richest mantle, richer in its hues thanthe scarfs of Cashmere. 

This is the "weed prairie. " It is misnamed. It is "the garden of God. "

The scene is changed. I am in a plain as before, with the unbrokenhorizon circling around me. What do I behold? Flowers? No; there isnot a flower in sight, but one vast expanse of living verdure. Fromnorth to south, from east to west, stretches the prairie meadow, greenas an emerald, and smooth as the surface of a sleeping lake. 

The wind is upon its bosom, sweeping the silken blades. They are inmotion; and the verdure is dappled into lighter and darker shades, asthe shadows of summer clouds flitting across the sun. 

The eye wanders without resistance. Perchance it encounters the darkhirsute forms of the buffalo, or traces the tiny outlines of theantelope. Perchance it follows, in pleased wonder, the far-wild gallopof a snow-white steed. 

This is the "grass prairie, " the boundless pasture of the bison. 

The scene changes. The earth is no longer level, but treeless andverdant as ever. Its surface exhibits a succession of parallelundulations, here and there swelling into smooth round hills. It iscovered with a soft turf of brilliant greenness. These undulationsremind one of the ocean after a mighty storm, when the crisped foam hasdied upon the waves, and the big swell comes bowling in. They look asthough they had once been such waves, that by an omnipotent mandate hadbeen transformed to earth and suddenly stood still. 

This is the "rolling prairie. "

Again the scene changes. I am among greenswards and bright flowers; butthe view is broken by groves and clumps of copse-wood. The frondage isvaried, its tints are vivid, its outlines soft and graceful. As I moveforward, new landscapes open up continuously: views park-like andpicturesque. Gangs of buffalo, herds of antelope, and droves of wildhorses, mottle the far vistas. Turkeys run into the coppice, andpheasants whirr up from the path. 

Where are the owners of these lands, of these flocks and fowls? Whereare the houses, the palaces, that should appertain to these lordlyparks? I look forward, expecting to see the turrets of tall mansionsspring up over the groves. But no. For hundreds of miles around nochimney sends forth its smoke. Although with a cultivated aspect, thisregion is only trodden by the moccasined foot of the hunter, and hisenemy, the Red Indian. 

These are the _mottes_--the "islands" of the prairie sea. 

I am in the deep forest. It is night, and the log fire throws out itsvermilion glare, painting the objects that surround our bivouac. Hugetrunks stand thickly around us; and massive limbs, grey and giant-like, stretch out and over. I notice the bark. It is cracked, and clings inbroad scales crisping outward. Long snake-like parasites creep fromtree to tree, coiling the trunks as though they were serpents, and wouldcrush them! There are no leaves overhead. They have ripened andfallen; but the white Spanish moss, festooned along the branches, hangsweeping down like the drapery of a deathbed. 

Prostrate trunks, yards in diameter and half-decayed, lie along theground. Their ends exhibit vast cavities where the porcupine andopossum have taken shelter from the cold. 

My comrades, wrapped in their blankets, and stretched upon the deadleaves, have gone to sleep. They lie with their feet to the fire, andtheir heads resting in the hollow of their saddles. The horses, standing around a tree, and tied to its lower branches, seem also tosleep. I am awake and listening. The wind is high up, whistling amongthe twigs and causing the long white streamers to oscillate. It uttersa wild and melancholy music. There are few other sounds, for it iswinter, and the tree-frog and cicada are silent. I hear the cracklingknots in the fire, the rustling of dry leaves swirled up by a straygust, the "coo-whoo-a" of the white owl, the bark of the raccoon, and, at intervals, the dismal howling of wolves. These are the nocturnalvoices of the winter forest. They are savage sounds; yet there is achord in my bosom that vibrates under their influence, and my spirit istinged with romance as I lie and listen. 

The forest in autumn; still bearing its full frondage. The leavesresemble flowers, so bright are their hues. They are red and yellow, and golden and brown. The woods are warm and glorious now, and thebirds flutter among the laden branches. The eye wanders delighted downlong vistas and over sunlit glades. It is caught by the flashing ofgaudy plumage, the golden green of the paroquet, the blue of the jay, and the orange wing of the oriole. The red-bird flutters lower down inthe coppice of green pawpaws, or amidst the amber leaflets of thebeechen thicket. Hundreds of tiny wings flit through the openings, twinkling in the sun like the glancing of gems. 

The air is filled with music: sweet sounds of love. The bark of thesquirrel, the cooing of mated doves, the "rat-ta-ta" of the pecker, andthe constant and measured chirrup of the cicada, are all ringingtogether. High up, on a topmost twig, the mocking-bird pours forth hismimic note, as though he would shame all other songsters into silence. 

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I am in a country of brown barren earth and broken outlines. There arerocks and clefts and patches of sterile soil. Strange vegetable formsgrow in the clefts and hang over the rocks. Others are spheroidal inshape, resting upon the surface of the parched earth. Others risevertically to a great height, like carved and fluted columns. Somethrow out branches, crooked, shaggy branches, with hirsute oval leaves. Yet there is a homogeneousness about all these vegetable forms, in theircolour, in their fruit and flowers, that proclaims them of one family. They are cacti. It is a forest of the Mexican nopal. Another singularplant is here. It throws out long, thorny leaves that curve downward. It is the agave, the far-famed mezcal-plant of Mexico. Here and there, mingling with the cacti, are trees of acacia and mezquite, the denizensof the desert-land. No bright object relieves the eye; no bird poursits melody into the ear. The lonely owl flaps away into the impassablethicket, the rattlesnake glides under its scanty shade, and the coyoteskulks through its silent glades. 

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I have climbed mountain after mountain, and still I behold peaks soaringfar above, crowned with the snow that never melts. I stand uponbeetling cliffs, and look into chasms that yawn beneath, sleeping in thesilence of desolation. Great fragments have fallen into them, and liepiled one upon another. Others hang threatening over, as if waiting forsome concussion of the atmosphere to hurl them from their balance. Darkprecipices frown me into fear, and my head reels with a dizzy faintness. I hold by the pine-tree shaft, or the angle of the firmer rock. 

Above, and below, and around me, are mountains piled on mountains inchaotic confusion. Some are bald and bleak; others exhibit traces ofvegetation in the dark needles of the pine and cedar, whose stuntedforms half-grow, half-hang from the cliffs. Here, a cone-shaped peaksoars up till it is lost in snow and clouds. There, a ridge elevatesits sharp outline against the sky; while along its side, lie hugeboulders of granite, as though they had been hurled from the hands ofTitan giants!

A fearful monster, the grizzly bear, drags his body along the highridges; the carcajou squats upon the projecting rock, waiting the elkthat must pass to the water below; and the bighorn bounds from crag tocrag in search of his shy mate. Along the pine branch the bald buzzardwhets his filthy beak; and the war-eagle, soaring over all, cuts sharplyagainst the blue field of the heavens. 

These are the Rocky Mountains, the American Andes, the colossalvertebras of the continent!

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Such are the aspects of the wild west; such is the scenery of our drama. 

Let us raise the curtain, and bring on the characters. 

CHAPTER TWO. 

THE PRAIRIE MERCHANTS. 

"New Orleans, _April 3rd_, 18--

"Dear Saint Vrain--Our young friend, Monsieur Henry Haller, goes toSaint Louis in `search of the picturesque. ' See that he be put througha `regular course of sprouts. '

"Yours, --

"Luis Walton. 

"Charles Saint Vrain, Esquire, Planters' Hotel, Saint Louis. "

With this laconic epistle in my waistcoat pocket, I debarked at SaintLouis on the 10th of April, and drove to the "Planters'. "

After getting my baggage stowed and my horse (a favourite I had broughtwith me) stabled, I put on a clean shirt, and, descending to the office, inquired for Monsieur Saint Vrain. 

He was not there. He had gone up the Missouri river several daysbefore. 

This was a disappointment, as I had brought no other introduction toSaint Louis. But I endeavoured to wait with patience the return ofMonsieur Saint Vrain. He was expected back in less than a week. 

Day after day I mounted my horse, I rode up to the "Mounds" and out uponthe prairies. I lounged about the hotel, and smoked my cigar in itsfine piazza. I drank sherry cobblers in the saloon, and read thejournals in the reading-room. 

With these and such like occupations, I killed time for three wholedays. 

There was a party of gentlemen stopping at the hotel, who seemed to knoweach other well. I might call them a clique; but that is not a goodword, and does not express what I mean. They appeared rather a band offriendly, jovial fellows. They strolled together through the streets, and sat side by side at the table-d'hote, where they usually remainedlong after the regular diners had retired. I noticed that they drankthe most expensive wines, and smoked the finest cigars the houseafforded. 

My attention was attracted to these men. I was struck with theirpeculiar bearing; their erect, Indian-like carriage in the streets, combined with a boyish gaiety, so characteristic of the westernAmerican. 

They dressed nearly alike: in fine black cloth, white linen, satinwaistcoats, and diamond pins. They wore the whisker full, but smoothlytrimmed; and several of them sported moustaches. Their hair fellcurling over their shoulders; and most of them wore their collars turneddown, displaying healthy-looking, sun-tanned throats. I was struck witha resemblance in their physiognomy. Their faces did not resemble eachother; but there was an unmistakable similarity in the expression of theeye; no doubt, the mark that had been made by like occupations andexperience. 

Were they sportsmen? No: the sportsman's hands are whiter; there ismore jewellery on his fingers; his waistcoat is of a gayer pattern, andaltogether his dress will be more gaudy and super-elegant. Moreover, the sportsman lacks that air of free-and-easy confidence. He dares notassume it. He may live in the hotel, but he must be quiet andunobtrusive. The sportsman is a bird of prey; hence, like all birds ofprey, his habits are silent and solitary. They are not of hisprofession. 

"Who are these gentlemen?" I inquired from a person who sat by me, indicating to him the men of whom I have spoken. 

"The prairie men. "

"The prairie men!"

"Yes; the Santa Fe traders. "

"Traders!" I echoed, in some surprise, not being able to connect such"elegants" with any ideas of trade or the prairies. 

"Yes, " continued my informant. "That large, fine-looking man in themiddle is Bent--Bill Bent, as he is called. The gentleman on his rightis young Sublette; the other, standing on his left, is one of theChoteaus; and that is the sober Jerry Folger. "

"These, then, are the celebrated prairie merchants?"

"Precisely so. "

I sat eyeing them with increased curiosity. I observed that they werelooking at me, and that I was the subject of their conversation. 

Presently, one of them, a dashing-like young fellow, parted from thegroup, and walked up to me. 

"Were you inquiring for Monsieur Saint Vrain?" he asked. 

"I was. "

"Charles?"

"Yes, that is the name. "

"I am--"

I pulled out my note of introduction, and banded it to the gentleman, who glanced over its contents. 

"My dear friend, " said he, grasping me cordially, "very sorry I have notbeen here. I came down the river this morning. How stupid of Waltonnot to superscribe to Bill Bent! How long have you been up?"

"Three days. I arrived on the 10th. "

"You are lost. Come, let me make you acquainted. Here, Bent! Bill!Jerry!"

And the next moment I had shaken hands with one and all of the traders, of which fraternity I found that my new friend, Saint Vrain, was amember. 

"First gong that?" asked one, as the loud scream of a gong came throughthe gallery. 

"Yes, " replied Bent, consulting his watch. "Just time to `licker. 'Come along!"

Bent moved towards the saloon, and we all followed, _neminedissentiente_. 

The spring season was setting in, and the young mint had sprouted--abotanical fact with which my new acquaintances appeared to be familiar, as one and all of them ordered a mint julep. This beverage, in themixing and drinking, occupied our time until the second scream of thegong summoned us to dinner. 

"Sit with us, Mr Haller, " said Bent; "I am sorry we didn't know yousooner. You have been lonely. "

And so saying, he led the way into the dining-room, followed by hiscompanions and myself. 

I need not describe a dinner at the "Planters', " with its venisonsteaks, its buffalo tongues, its prairie chickens, and its deliciousfrog fixings from the Illinois "bottom. " No; I would not describe thedinner, and what followed I am afraid I could not. 

We sat until we had the table to ourselves. Then the cloth was removed, and we commenced smoking regalias and drinking madeira at twelve dollarsa bottle! This was ordered in by someone, not in single bottles, but bythe half-dozen. I remembered thus far well enough; and that, whenever Itook up a wine-card, or a pencil, these articles were snatched out of myfingers. 

I remember listening to stories of wild adventures among the Pawnees, and the Comanches, and the Blackfeet, until I was filled with interest, and became enthusiastic about prairie life. Then someone asked me, would I not like to join them in "a trip"? Upon this I made a speech, and proposed to accompany my new acquaintances on their next expedition:and then Saint Vrain said I was just the man for their life; and thispleased me highly. Then someone sang a Spanish song, with a guitar, Ithink, and someone else danced an Indian war-dance; and then we all roseto our feet, and chorused the "Star-spangled Banner"; and I remembernothing else after this, until next morning, when I remember well that Iawoke with a splitting headache. 

I had hardly time to reflect on my previous night's folly, when the dooropened, and Saint Vrain, with half a dozen of my table companions, rushed into the room. They were followed by a waiter, who carriedseveral large glasses topped with ice, and filled with a paleamber-coloured liquid. 

"A sherry cobbler, Mr Haller, " cried one; "best thing in the world foryou: drain it, my boy. It'll cool you in a squirrel's jump. "

I drank off the refreshing beverage as desired. 

"Now, my dear friend, " said Saint Vrain, "you feel a hundred per cent, better! But, tell me, were you in earnest when you spoke of going withus across the plains? We start in a week; I shall be sorry to part withyou so soon. "

"But I was in earnest. I am going with you, if you will only show mehow I am to set about it. "

"Nothing easier: buy yourself a horse. "

"I have got one. "

"Then a few coarse articles of dress, a rifle, a pair of pistols, a--"

"Stop, stop! I have all these things. That is not what I would be at, but this: You, gentlemen, carry goods to Santa Fe. You double or trebleyour money on them. Now, I have ten thousand dollars in a bank here. What should hinder me to combine profit with pleasure, and invest it asyou do?"

"Nothing; nothing! A good idea, " answered several. 

"Well, then, if any of you will have the goodness to go with me, andshow me what sort of merchandise I am to lay in for the Santa Fe market, I will pay his wine bill at dinner, and that's no small commission, Ithink. "

The prairie men laughed loudly, declaring they would all go a-shoppingwith me; and, after breakfast, we started in a body, arm-in-arm. 

Before dinner I had invested nearly all my disposable funds in printedcalicoes, long knives, and looking-glasses, leaving just money enough topurchase mule-waggons and hire teamsters at Independence, our point ofdeparture for the plains. 

A few days after, with my new companions, I was steaming up theMissouri, on our way to the trackless prairies of the "Far West. "

CHAPTER THREE. 

THE PRAIRIE FEVER. 

After a week spent in Independence buying mules and waggons, we took theroute over the plains. There were a hundred waggons in the caravan, andnearly twice that number of teamsters and attendants. Two of thecapacious vehicles contained all my "plunder;" and, to manage them, Ihad hired a couple of lathy, long-haired Missourians. I had alsoengaged a Canadian voyageur named Gode, as a sort of attendant orcompagnon. 

Where are the glossy gentlemen of the Planters' Hotel? One wouldsuppose they had been left behind, as here are none but men inhunting-shirts and slouch hats. Yes; but under these hats we recognisetheir faces, and in these rude shirts we have the same jovial fellows asever. The silky black and the diamonds have disappeared, for now thetraders flourish under the prairie costume. I will endeavour to give anidea of the appearance of my companions by describing my own; for I amtricked out very much like themselves. 

I wear a hunting-shirt of dressed deerskin. It is a garment more afterthe style of an ancient tunic than anything I can think of. It is of alight yellow colour, beautifully stitched and embroidered; and the cape, for it has a short cape, is fringed by tags cut out of the leatheritself. The skirt is also bordered by a similar fringe, and hangs fulland low. A pair of "savers" of scarlet cloth cover my limbs to thethigh; and under these are strong jean pantaloons, heavy boots, and bigbrass spurs. A coloured cotton shirt, a blue neck-tie, and abroad-brimmed Guayaquil hat, complete the articles of my everyday dress. Behind me, on the cantle of my saddle, may be observed a bright redobject folded into a cylindrical form. That is my "Mackinaw, " a greatfavourite, for it makes my bed by night and my greatcoat on otheroccasions. There is a small slit in the middle of it, through which Ithrust my head in cold or rainy weather; and I am thus covered to theankles. 

As I have said, my _compagnons de voyage_ are similarly attired. Theremay be a difference of colour in the blanket or the leggings, or theshirt may be of other materials; but that I have described may be takenas a character dress. 

We are all somewhat similarly armed and equipped. For my part, I maysay that I am "armed to the teeth. " In my holsters I carry a pair ofColt's large-sized revolvers, six shots each. In my belt is anotherpair of the small size, with five shots each. In addition, I have alight rifle, making in all twenty-three shots, which I have learned todeliver in as many seconds of time. Failing with all these, I carry inmy belt a long shining blade known as a "bowie knife. " This last is myhunting knife, my dining knife, and, in short, my knife of all work. For accoutrements I have a pouch and a flask, both slung under the rightarm. I have also a large gourd canteen and haversack for my rations. So have all my companions. 

But we are differently mounted. Some ride saddle mules, others bestridemustangs, while a few have brought their favourite American horses. Iam of this number. I ride a dark-brown stallion, with black legs, andmuzzle like the withered fern. He is half-Arab, and of perfectproportions. He is called Moro, a Spanish name given him by theLouisiana planter from whom I bought him, but why I do not know. I haveretained the name, and he answers to it readily. He is strong, fleet, and beautiful. Many of my friends fancy him on the route, and offerlarge prices for him; but these do not tempt me, for my Moro serves mewell. Every day I grow more and more attached to him. My dog Alp, aSaint Bernard that I bought from a Swiss _emigre_ in Saint Louis, hardlycomes in for a tithe of my affections. 

I find on referring to my note-book that for weeks we travelled over theprairies without any incident of unusual interest. To me the scenerywas interest enough; and I do not remember a more striking picture thanto see the long caravan of waggons, "the prairie ships, " deployed overthe plain, or crawling slowly up some gentle slope, their white tiltscontrasting beautifully with the deep green of the earth. At night, too, the camp, with its corralled waggons, and horses picketed around, was equally a picture. The scenery was altogether new to me, and imbuedme with impressions of a peculiar character. The streams were fringedwith tall groves of cottonwood trees, whose column-like stems supporteda thick frondage of silvery leaves. These groves meeting at differentpoints, walled in the view, so dividing the prairies from one another, that we seemed to travel through vast fields fenced by colossal hedges. 

We crossed many rivers, fording some, and floating our waggons overothers that were deeper and wider. Occasionally we saw deer andantelope, and our hunters shot a few of these; but we had not yetreached the range of the buffalo. Once we stopped a day to recruit in awooded bottom, where the grass was plentiful and the water pure. Nowand then, too, we were halted to mend a broken tongue or an axle, orhelp a "stalled" waggon from its miry bed. 

I had very little trouble with my particular division of the caravan. My Missourians turned out to be a pair of staunch hands, who couldassist one another without making a desperate affair of every slightaccident. 

The grass had sprung up, and our mules and oxen, instead of thinningdown, every day grew fatter upon it. Moro, therefore, came in for abetter share of the maize that I had brought in my waggons, and whichkept my favourite in fine travelling condition. 

As we approached the Arkansas, we saw mounted Indians disappearing overthe swells. They were Pawnees; and for several days clouds of thesedusky warriors hung upon the skirts of the caravan. But they knew ourstrength, and kept at a wary distance from our long rifles. 

To me every day brought something new, either in the incidents of the"voyage" or the features of the landscape. 

Gode, who has been by turns a voyageur, a hunter, a trapper, and a_coureur du bois_, in our private dialogues had given me an insight intomany an item of prairie-craft, thus enabling me to cut quite arespectable figure among my new comrades. Saint Vrain, too, whosefrank, generous manner had already won my confidence, spared no pains tomake the trip agreeable to me. What with gallops by day and the wildertales by the night watch-fires, I became intoxicated with the romance ofmy new life. I had caught the "prairie-fever!"

So my companions told me, laughing. I did not understand them then. Iknew what they meant afterwards. The prairie fever! Yes. I was justthen in process of being inoculated by that strange disease. It grewupon me apace. The dreams of home began to die within me; and withthese the illusory ideas of many a young and foolish ambition. 

My strength increased, both physically and intellectually. Iexperienced a buoyancy of spirits and a vigour of body I had never knownbefore. I felt a pleasure in action. My blood seemed to rush warmerand swifter through my veins, and I fancied that my eyes reached to amore distant vision. I could look boldly upon the sun without quiveringin my glance. 

Had I imbibed a portion of the divine essence that lives, and moves, andhas its being in those vast solitudes? Who can answer this?

CHAPTER FOUR. 

A RIDE UPON A BUFFALO BULL. 

We had been out about two weeks when we struck the Arkansas "bend, "about six miles below the Plum Buttes. Here our waggons corralled andcamped. So far we had seen but little of the buffalo; only a straybull, or, at most, two or three together, and these shy. It was now therunning season, but none of the great droves, love-maddened, had crossedus. 

"Yonder!" cried Saint Vrain; "fresh hump for supper!"

We looked north-west, as indicated by our friend. 

Along the escarpment of a low table, five dark objects broke the line ofthe horizon. A glance was enough: they were buffaloes. 

As Saint Vrain spoke, we were about slipping off our saddles. Back wentthe girth buckles with a sneck, down came the stirrups, up went we, andoff in the "twinkling of a goat's eye. "

Half a score or so started; some, like myself, for the sport; whileothers, old hunters, had the "meat" in their eye. 

We had made but a short day's march; our horses were still fresh, and inthree times as many minutes, the three miles that lay between us and thegame were reduced to one. Here, however, we were winded. Some of theparty, like myself, green upon the prairies, disregarding advice, hadridden straight ahead; and the bulls snuffed us on the wind. Whenwithin a mile, one of them threw up his shaggy front, snorted, struckthe ground with his hoof, rolled over, rose up again, and dashed off atfull speed, followed by his four companions. 

It remained to us now either to abandon the chase or put our horses totheir mettle and catch up. The latter course was adopted, and wegalloped forward. All at once we found ourselves riding up to whatappeared to be a clay wall, six feet high. It was a stair between twotables, and ran right and left as far as the eye could reach, withoutthe semblance of a gap. 

This was an obstacle that caused us to rein up and reflect. Somewheeled their horses, and commenced riding back, while half a dozen ofus, better mounted, among whom were Saint Vrain and my voyageur Gode, not wishing to give up the chase so easily, put to the spur, and clearedthe scarp. 

From this point it caused us a five miles' gallop, and our horses awhite sweat, to come up with the hindmost, a young cow, which fell, bored by a bullet from every rifle in the party. 

As the others had gained some distance ahead, and we had meat enough forall, we reined up, and, dismounting, set about "removing the hair. "This operation was a short one under the skilful knives of the hunters. We had now leisure to look back, and calculate the distance we hadridden from camp. 

"Eight miles, every inch!" cried one. 

"We're close to the trail, " said Saint Vrain, pointing to some oldwaggon tracks that marked the route of the Santa Fe traders. 

"Well?"

"If we ride into camp, we shall have to ride back in the morning. Itwill be sixteen extra miles for our cattle. "

"True. "

"Let us stay here, then. Here's water and grass. There's buffalo meat;and yonder's a waggon load of `chips. ' We have our blankets; what moredo we want?"

"I say, camp where we are. "

"And I. "

"And I. "

In a minute the girth buckles flew open, our saddles were lifted off, and our panting horses were cropping the curly bunches of the prairiegrass, within the circles of their _cabriestos_. 

A crystal rivulet, the arroyo of the Spaniards, stole away southward tothe Arkansas. On the bank of this rivulet, and under one of its bluffs, we chose a spot for our bivouac. The _bois de vache_ was collected, afire was kindled, and hump steaks, spitted on sticks, were soonsputtering in the blaze. Luckily, Saint Vrain and I had our flasksalong; and as each of them contained a pint of pure Cognac, we managedto make a tolerable supper. The old hunters had their pipes andtobacco, my friend and I our cigars, and we sat round the ashes till alate hour, smoking and listening to wild tales of mountain adventure. 

At length the watch was told off, the lariats were shortened, thepicket-pins driven home, and my comrades, rolling themselves up in theirblankets, rested their heads in the hollow of their saddles, and went tosleep. 

There was a man named Hibbets in our party, who, from his habits ofsomnolency, had earned the sobriquet of "Sleepy-head. " For this reasonthe first watch had been assigned to him, being the least dangerous, asIndians seldom made their attacks until the hour of soundest sleep--thatbefore daybreak. 

Hibbets had climbed to his post, the top of the bluff, where he couldcommand a view of the surrounding prairie. 

Before night had set in, I had noticed a very beautiful spot on the bankof the arroyo, about two hundred yards from where my comrades lay. Asudden fancy came into my head to sleep there; and taking up my rifle, robe, and blanket, at the same time calling to "Sleepy-head" to awake mein case of alarm, I proceeded thither. 

The ground, shelving gradually down to the arroyo, was covered with softbuffalo grass, thick and dry--as good a bed as was ever pressed bysleepy mortal. On this I spread my robe, and, folding my blanket aroundme, lay down, cigar in mouth, to smoke myself asleep. 

It was a lovely moonlight, so clear that I could easily distinguish thecolours of the prairie flowers--the silver euphorbias, the goldensunflowers, and the scarlet malvas, that fringed the banks of the arroyoat my feet. There was an enchanting stillness in the air, broken onlyby an occasional whine from the prairie wolf, the distant snoring of mycompanions, and the "crop, crop" of our horses shortening the crispgrass. 

I lay a good while awake, until my cigar burnt up to my lips (we smokethem close on the prairies); then, spitting out the stump, I turned overon my side, and was soon in the land of dreams. 

I could not have been asleep many minutes when I felt sensible of astrange noise, like distant thunder, or the roaring of a waterfall. Theground seemed to tremble beneath me. 

"We are going to have a dash of a thunder-shower, " thought I, stillhalf-dreaming, half-sensible to impressions from without; and I drew thefolds of my blanket closer around me, and again slept. 

I was awakened by a noise like thunder--indeed, like the trampling of athousand hoofs, and the lowing of a thousand oxen! The earth echoed andtrembled. I could hear the shouts of my comrades; the voices of SaintVrain and Gode, the latter calling out--

"Sacr-r-re! monsieur; prenez garde des buffles!"

I saw that they had drawn the horses, and were hurrying them under thebluff. 

I sprang to my feet, flinging aside my blanket. A fearful spectacle wasbefore me. Away to the west, as far as the eye could reach, the prairieseemed in motion. Black waves rolled over its undulating outlines, asthough some burning mountain were pouring down its lava upon the plains. A thousand bright spots flashed and flitted along the moving surfacelike jets of fire. The ground shook, men shouted, horses reared upontheir ropes, neighing wildly. My dog barked, and bowled, running aroundme!

For a moment I thought I was dreaming; but no, the scene was too real tobe mistaken for a vision. I saw the border of a black wave within tenpaces of me, and still approaching! Then, and not till then, did Irecognise the shaggy crests and glaring eyeballs of the buffalo!

"Oh, God; I am in their track. I shall be trampled to death!"

It was too late to attempt an escape by running. I seized my rifle andfired at the foremost of the band. The effect of my shot was notperceptible. The water of the arroyo was dashed in my face. A hugebull, ahead of the rest, furious and snorting, plunged through thestream and up the slope. I was lifted and tossed high into the air. Iwas thrown rearwards, and fell upon a moving mass. I did not feel hurtor stunned. I felt myself carried onward upon the backs of severalanimals, that, in the dense drove, ran close together. These, frightened at their strange burden, bellowed loudly, and dashed on tothe front. A sudden thought struck me, and, fixing on that which wasmost under me, I dropped my legs astride of him, embracing his hump, andclutching the long woolly hair that grew upon his neck. The animal"routed" with extreme terror, and, plunging forward, soon headed theband. 

This was exactly what I wanted; and on we went over the prairie, thebull running at top speed, believing, no doubt, that he had a panther ora catamount between his shoulders. 

I had no desire to disabuse him of this belief, and, lest he should deemme altogether harmless, and come to a halt, I slipped out my bowie, which happened to be handy, and pricked him up whenever he showedsymptoms of lagging. At every fresh touch of the spur he roared out, and ran forward at a redoubled pace. 

My danger was still extreme. The drove was coming on behind with thefront of nearly a mile. I could not have cleared it had the bullstopped and left me on the prairie. 

Nothwithstanding the peril I was in, I could not resist laughing at myludicrous situation. I felt as one does when looking at a good comedy. 

We struck through a village of prairie dogs. Here I fancied the animalwas about to turn and run back. This brought my mirth to a suddenpause; but the buffalo usually runs in a bee-line, and fortunately minemade no exception to the law. On he went, sinking to the knees, kickingthe dust from the conical hills, snorting and bellowing with rage andterror. 

The Plum Buttes were directly in the line or our course. I had seenthis from the start, and knew that if I could reach them I would besafe. They were nearly three miles from the bluff where we hadbivouacked, but in my ride I fancied them ten. 

A small one rose over the prairie, several hundred yards nearer than themain heights. Towards this I pricked the foaming bull in a laststretch, and he brought me cleverly within a hundred yards of its base. 

It was now time to take leave of my dusky companion. I could haveslaughtered him as I leaned over his back. My knife rested upon themost vulnerable part of his huge body. No! I could not have slain thatbuffalo for the Koh-i-noor. 

Untwisting my fingers from his thick fleece, I slipped down over histail, and without as much as saying "Goodnight!" ran with all my speedtowards the knoll. I climbed up; and sitting down upon a loose boulderof rock, looked over the prairie. 

The moon was still shining brightly. My late companion had halted notfar from where I had left him, and stood glaring back with an air ofextreme bewilderment. There was something so comical in the sight thatI yelled with laughter as I sat securely on my perch. 

I looked to the south-west. As far as the eye could see, the prairiewas black, and moving. The living wave came rolling onward and towardme; but I could now observe it in safety. The myriads of glancing eyes, sparkling like phosphoric gleams, no longer flashed terror. 

The drove was still half a mile distant. I thought I saw quick gleams, and heard the report of firearms away over its left border; but I couldnot be certain. I had begun to think of the fate of my comrades, andthis gave me hopes that they were safe. 

The buffaloes approached the butte on which I was seated; and, perceiving the obstacle, suddenly forked into two great belts, and sweptright and left around it. What struck me at this moment as curious was, that my bull, my particular bull, instead of waiting till his comradeshad come up, and falling in among the foremost, suddenly tossed up hishead, and galloped off as if a pack of wolves had been after him. Heran towards the outside of the band. When he had reached a point thatplaced him fairly beyond the flank, I could see him closing in, andmoving on with the rest. 

This strange tactic of my late companion puzzled me at the time, but Iafterwards learned that it was sound strategy on his part. Had heremained where I had parted with him, the foremost bulls coming up wouldhave mistaken him for an individual of some other tribe, and wouldcertainly have gored him to death. 

I sat upon the rock for nearly two hours, silently watching the sablestream as it poured past. I was on an island in the midst of a blackand glittering sea. At one time I fancied I was moving, that the buttewas sailing onward, and the buffaloes were standing still. My head swamwith dizziness, and I leaped to my feet to drive away the strangeillusion. 

The torrent rolled onward, and at length the hindmost went stragglingpast. I descended from the knoll, and commenced groping my way over theblack, trodden earth. What was lately a green sward now presented theaspect of ground freshly ploughed, and trampled by droves of oxen. 

A number of white animals, resembling a flock of sheep, passed near me. They were wolves hanging upon the skirts of the herd. 

I pushed on, keeping to the southward. At length I heard voices; and, in the clear moonlight, could see several horsemen galloping in circlesover the plain. I shouted "Hollo!" A voice answered mine, and one ofthe horsemen came galloping up; it was Saint Vrain. 

"Why, bless me, Haller!" cried he, reining up, and bending from hissaddle to get a better view of me, "is it you or your ghost? As I sithere, it's the man himself, and alive!"

"Never in better condition, " I replied. 

"But where did you come from? the clouds? the sky? where?" And hisquestions were echoed by the others, who at this moment were shaking meby the hand, as if they had not seen me for a twelvemonth. 

Gode seemed to be the most perplexed man of the party. 

"Mon Dieu! run over; tramp by von million buffles, et ne pas mort!'Cr-r-re matin!"

"We were hunting for your body, or rather, the fragments of it, " saidSaint Vrain. "We had searched every foot of the prairie for a mileround, and had almost come to the conclusion that the fierce brutes hadeaten you up. "

"Eat monsieur up! No! tre million buffles no him eat. Mon Dieu! Ha, Sleep-head!"

This exclamation of the Canadian was addressed to Hibbets, who hadfailed to warn my comrades of where I lay, and thus placed me in such adangerous predicament. 

"We saw you tossed in the air, " continued Saint Vrain, "and fall rightinto the thick of them. Then, of course, we gave you up. But how, inHeaven's name, have you got clear?"

I related my adventure to my wondering comrades. 

"Par Dieu!" cried Gode, "un garcon tres bizarre: une aventure tresmerveilleuse!"

From that hour I was looked upon as a "captain" on the prairies. 

My comrades had made good work of it, as a dozen dark objects that layupon the plain testified. They had found my rifle and blankets, thelatter trodden into the earth. 

Saint Vrain had still a few drops in his flask; and after swallowingthese, and again placing the guard, we returned to our prairie couchesand slept out the night. 

CHAPTER FIVE. 

IN A BAD FIX. 

A few days afterwards, another adventure befell me; and I began to thinkthat I was destined to become a hero among the "mountain men. " A smallparty of the traders, myself among the number, had pushed forward aheadof the caravan. Our object was to arrive at Santa Fe a day or twobefore the waggons, in order to have everything arranged with theGovernor for their entrance into that capital. We took the route by theCimmaron. 

Our road, for a hundred miles or so, lay through a barren desert, without game, and almost without water. The buffalo had alreadydisappeared, and deer were equally scarce. We had to content ourselveswith the dried meat which we had brought from the settlements. We werein the deserts of the artemisia. Now and then we could see a strayantelope bounding away before us, but keeping far out of range. They, too, seemed to be unusually shy. 

On the third day after leaving the caravan, as we were riding near theCimmaron, I thought I observed a pronged head disappearing behind aswell in the prairie. My companions were sceptical, and none of themwould go with me; so, wheeling out of the trail, I started alone. Oneof the men, for Gode was behind, kept charge of my dog, as I did notchoose to take him with me, lest he might alarm the antelopes. My horsewas fresh and willing; and whether successful or not, I knew that Icould easily overtake the party by camping-time. 

I struck directly towards the spot where I had seen the object. Itappeared to be only half a mile or so from the trail. It proved moredistant--a common illusion in the crystal atmosphere of these uplandregions. 

A curiously-formed ridge, a _couteau des prairies_ on a small scale, traversed the plain from east to west. A thicket of cactus covered partof its summit. Towards this thicket I directed myself. 

I dismounted at the bottom of the slope, and leading my horse silentlyup among the cacti plants, tied him to one of their branches. I thencrept cautiously through the thorny leaves towards the point where Ifancied I had seen the game. To my joy, not one antelope, but a braceof those beautiful animals were quietly grazing beyond; but, alas! toofar off for the range of my rifle. They were fully three hundred yardsdistant, upon a smooth, grassy slope. There was not even a sage bush tocover me, should I attempt to approach them. What was to be done?

I lay for several minutes, thinking over the different tricks known inhunter-craft for taking the antelope. Should I imitate their call?Should I hoist my handkerchief, and try to lure them up? I saw thatthey were too shy; for, at short intervals, they threw up their gracefulheads and looked inquiringly around them. I remembered the red blanketon my saddle. I could display this upon the cactus bushes; perhaps itwould attract them. 

I had no alternative, and was turning to go back for the blanket, when, all at once, my eye rested upon a clay-coloured line running across theprairie beyond where the animals were feeding. It was a break in thesurface of the plain, a buffalo road, or the channel of an arroyo; ineither case the very cover I wanted, for the animals were not a hundredyards from it, and were getting still nearer to it as they fed. 

Creeping back out of the thicket, I ran along the side of the slopetowards a point where I had noticed that the ridge was depressed to theprairie level. Here, to my surprise, I found myself on the banks of abroad arroyo, whose water, clear and shallow, ran slowly over a bed ofsand and gypsum. 

The banks were low, not over three feet above the surface of the water, except where the ridge impinged upon the stream. Here there was a highbluff; and, hurrying round its base, I entered the channel, andcommenced wading upward. 

As I had anticipated, I soon came to a bend where the stream, afterrunning parallel to the ridge, swept round and canoned through it. Atthis place I stopped, and looked cautiously over the bank. Theantelopes had approached within less than rifle range of the arroyo; butthey were yet far above my position. They were still quietly feedingand unconscious of danger. I again bent down and waded on. 

It was a difficult task proceeding in this way. The bed of the creekwas soft and yielding, and I was compelled to tread slowly and silentlylest I should alarm the game; but I was cheered in my exertions by theprospect of fresh venison for my supper. 

After a weary drag of several hundred yards, I came opposite to a smallclump of wormwood bushes growing out of the bank. "I may be highenough, " thought I; "these will serve for cover. "

I raised my body gradually until I could see through the leaves. I wasin the right spot. 

I brought my rifle to a level, sighted for the heart of the buck, andfired. The animal leaped from the ground, and fell back lifeless. 

I was about to rush forward and secure my prize, when I observed thedoe, instead of running off as I had expected, go up to her fallenpartner and press her tapering nose to his body. She was not more thantwenty yards from me; and I could plainly see that her look was one ofinquiry and bewilderment. All at once she seemed to comprehend thefatal truth; and throwing back her head, commenced uttering the mostpiteous cries, at the same time running in circles around the body. 

I stood wavering between two minds. My first impulse had been to reloadand kill the doe; but her plaintive voice entered my heart, disarming meof all hostile intentions. Had I dreamt of witnessing this painfulspectacle, I should not have left the trail. But the mischief was nowdone. "I have worse than killed her, " thought I; "it will be better todespatch her at once. "

Actuated by these principles of a common, but to her fatal, humanity, Irested the butt of my rifle and reloaded. With a faltering hand I againlevelled the piece and fired. 

My nerves were steady enough to do the work. When the smoke floatedaside, I could see the little creature bleeding upon the grass, her headresting against the body of her murdered mate. 

I shouldered my rifle, and was about to move forward, when to myastonishment, I found that I was caught by the feet. I was held firmly, as if my legs had been screwed in a vice!

I made an effort to extricate myself; another, more violent, and equallyunsuccessful; and, with a third, I lost my balance, and fell back uponthe water. 

Half-suffocated, I regained my upright position, but only to find that Iwas held as fast as ever. 

Again I struggled to free my limbs. I could neither move them backwardnor forward, to the right nor to the left; and I became sensible that Iwas gradually going down. Then the fearful truth flashed upon me: I wassinking in a quicksand. 

A feeling of horror came over me. I renewed my efforts with the energyof desperation. I leant to one side, then to the other, almostwrenching my knees from their sockets. My feet remained fast as ever. I could not move them an inch. 

The soft, clinging sand already overtopped my horseskin boots, wedgingthem around my ankles, so that I was unable to draw them off; and Icould feel that I was still sinking, slowly but surely, as though somesubterranean monster were leisurely dragging me down! This very thoughtcaused me a fresh thrill of horror, and I called aloud for help. Towhom? There was no one within miles of me--no living thing. Yes! theneigh of my horse answered me from the hill, mocking my despair. 

I bent forward as well as my constrained position would permit, and, with frenzied fingers, commenced tearing up the sand. I could barelyreach the surface; and the little hollow I was able to make filled upalmost as soon as it had been formed. 

A thought occurred to me. My rifle might support me, placedhorizontally. I looked around for it. It was not to be seen. It hadsunk beneath the sand. 

Could I throw my body flat, and prevent myself from sinking deeper? No. The water was two feet in depth. I should drown at once. 

This last last hope left me as soon as formed. I could think of no planto save myself. I could make no further effort. A strange stuporseized upon me. My very thoughts became paralysed. I knew that I wasgoing mad. For a moment I was mad!

After an interval my senses returned. I made an effort to rouse my mindfrom its paralysis, in order that I might meet death, which I nowbelieved to be certain, as a man should. 

I stood erect. My eyes had sunk to the prairie level, and rested uponthe still bleeding victims of my cruelty. My heart smote me at thesight. Was I suffering a retribution of God?

With humble and penitent thoughts I turned my face to heaven, almostdreading that some sign of omnipotent anger would scowl upon me fromabove. But no! The sun was shining as brightly as ever, and the bluecanopy of the world was without a cloud. 

I gazed upward, and prayed with an earnestness known only to the heartsof men in positions of peril like mine. 

As I continued to look up, an object attracted my attention. Againstthe sky I distinguished the outlines of a large bird. I knew it to bethe obscene bird of the plains, the buzzard vulture. Whence had itcome? Who knows? Far beyond the reach of human eye it had seen orscented the slaughtered antelopes, and on broad, silent wing was nowdescending to the feast of death. 

Presently another, and another, and many others, mottled the blue fieldof the heavens, curving and wheeling silently earthward. Then theforemost swooped down upon the bank, and after gazing around for amoment, flapped off towards its prey. 

In a few seconds the prairie was black with filthy birds, whichclambered over the dead antelopes, and beat their wings against eachother, while they tore out the eyes of the quarry with their fetidbeaks. 

And now came gaunt wolves, sneaking and hungry, stealing out of thecactus thicket, and loping, coward-like, over the green swells of theprairie. These, after a battle, drove away the vultures, and tore upthe prey, all the while growling and snapping vengefully at each other. 

"Thank Heaven! I shall at least be saved from this!"

I was soon relieved from the sight. My eyes had sunk below the level ofthe bank. I had looked my last on the fair green earth. I could nowsee only the clayey walls that contained the river, and the water thatran unheeding by me. 

Once more I fixed my gaze upon the sky, and with prayerful heartendeavoured to resign myself to my fate. 

In spite of my efforts to be calm, the memories of earthly pleasures, and friends, and home came over me, causing me at intervals to breakinto wild paroxysms, and make fresh, though fruitless, struggles. 

Again I was attracted by the neighing of my horse. 

A thought entered my mind, filling me with fresh hopes. "Perhaps myhorse--"

I lost not a moment. I raised my voice to its highest pitch, and calledthe animal by name. I knew that he would come at my call. I had tiedhim but slightly. The cactus limb would snap off. I called again, repeating words that were well known to him. I listened with a boundingheart. For a moment there was silence. Then I heard the quick soundsof his hoofs, as though the animal were rearing and struggling to freehimself. Then I could distinguish the stroke of his heels in a measuredand regular gallop. 

Nearer came the sounds; nearer and clearer, until the gallant bruteappeared upon the bank above me. There he halted, and, flinging backhis tossed mane, uttered a shrill neigh. He was bewildered, and lookedto every side, snorting loudly. 

I knew that, having once seen me, he would not stop until he had pressedhis nose against my cheek, for this was his usual custom. Holding outmy hands, I again uttered the magic words. 

Now glancing downward, he perceived me, and stretching himself, sprangout into the channel. The next moment I held him by the bridle. 

There was no time to be lost. I was still going down; and my armpitswere fast nearing the surface of the quicksand. 

I caught the lariat, and, passing it under the saddle-girths, fastenedit in a tight, firm knot. I then looped the trailing end, making itsecure around my body. I had left enough of the rope, between thebit-ring and the girths, to enable me to check and guide the animal, incase the drag upon my body should be too painful. 

All this while the dumb brute seemed to comprehend what I was about. Heknew, too, the nature of the ground on which he stood, for during theoperation he kept lifting his feet alternately to prevent himself fromsinking. 

My arrangements were at length completed; and with a feeling of terribleanxiety I gave my horse the signal to move forward. Instead of goingoff with a start, the intelligent animal stepped away slowly, as thoughhe understood my situation. The lariat tightened, I felt my bodymoving, and the next moment experienced a wild delight, a feeling Icannot describe, as I found myself dragged out of the sand!

I sprang to my feet with a shout of joy. I rushed up to my steed, andthrowing my arms around his neck, kissed him. He answered my embracewith a low whimper, that told me I was understood. 

I looked for my rifle. Fortunately, it had not sunk deeply, and I soonfound it. My boots were behind me, but I stayed not to look for them, being smitten with a wholesome dread of the place where I had left them. 

It was sundown before I reached camp, where I was met by the inquiriesof my wondering companions. "Did you come across the `goats'?""Where's your boots?" "Whether have you been hunting or fishing?"

I answered all these questions by relating my adventures; and that nightI was again the hero of the camp-fire. 

CHAPTER SIX. 

SANTA FE. 

After a week's climbing through the Rocky Mountains, we descended intothe Valley of the Del Norte, and arrived at the capital of New Mexico, the far-famed Santa Fe. Next day the caravan itself came in, for we hadlost time on the southern route; and the waggons, travelling by theRaton Pass, had made a good journey of it. 

We had no difficulty about their entrance into the country, with theproviso that we paid five hundred dollars of "Alcavala" tax upon eachwaggon. This was a greater extortion than usual; but the traders werecompelled to accept the impost. 

Santa Fe is the entrepot of the province, and the chief seat of itstrade. On reaching it we halted, camping without the walls. 

Saint Vrain, several other _proprietaires_, and myself, took up ourquarters at the Fonda, where we endeavoured, by means of the sparklingvintage of El Paso, to make ourselves oblivious of the hardships we hadendured in the passage of the plains. 

The night of our arrival was given to feasting and making merry. 

Next morning I was awakened by the voice of my man Gode, who appeared tobe in high spirits, singing a snatch of a Canadian boat-song. 

"Ah, monsieur!" cried he, seeing me awake, "to-night--aujourd'hui--unegrande fonction--one bal--vat le Mexicain he call fandango. Tres bien, monsieur. You vill sure have grand plaisir to see un fandangoMexicain?"

"Not I, Gode. My countrymen are not so fond of dancing as yours. "

"C'est vrai, monsieur; but von fandango is tres curieux. You sall seever many sort of de pas. Bolero, et valse, wis de Coona, and ver manymore pas, all mix up in von puchero. Allons! monsieur, you vill see vermany pretty girl, avec les yeux tres noir, and ver short--ah! vershort--vat you call em in Americaine?"

"I do not know what you allude to. "

"Cela! Zis, monsieur, " holding out the skirt of his hunting-shirt; "parDieu! now I have him--petticoes; ver short petticoes. Ah! you sall seevat you sall see en un fandango Mexicaine. 

 "`Las ninas de Durango Commigo bailandas, Al cielo saltandas, En el fandango--en el fan-dang--o. '

"Ah! here comes Monsieur Saint Vrain. Ecoutez! He never go tofandango. Sacre! how monsieur dance! like un maitre de ballet. Mais hebe de sangre--blood Francais. Ecoutez!

 "`Al cielo saltandas, En el fandango--en el fan-dang--. '"

"Ha! Gode!"

"Monsieur?"

"Trot over to the cantina, and beg, borrow, buy, or steal, a bottle ofthe best Paso. "

"Sall I try steal 'im, Monsieur Saint Vrain?" inquired Gode, with aknowing grin. 

"No, you old Canadian thief! Pay for it. There's the money. BestPaso, do you hear?--cool and sparkling. Now, voya! Bon jour, my boldrider of buffalo bulls I still abed, I see. "

"My head aches as if it would split. "

"Ha, ha, ha! so does mine; but Gode's gone for medicine. Hair of thedog good for the bite. Come, jump up!"

"Wait till I get a dose of your medicine. "

"True; you will feel better then. I say, city life don't agree with us, eh?"

"You call this a city, do you?"

"Ay, so it is styled in these parts: `la ciudad de Santa Fe;' the famouscity of Santa Fe; the capital of Nuevo Mexico; the metropolis of allprairiedom; the paradise of traders, trappers, and thieves!"

"And this is the progress of three hundred years! Why, these peoplehave hardly passed the first stages of civilisation. "

"Rather say they are passing the last stages of it. Here, on this fairoasis, you will find painting, poetry, dancing, theatres, and music, fetes and fireworks, with all the little amorous arts that characterisea nation's decline. You will meet with numerous Don Quixotes, _soi-disant_ knights-errant, Romeos without the heart, and ruffianswithout the courage. You will meet with many things before youencounter either virtue or honesty. Hola! muchacho!"

"Que es, senor?"

"Hay cafe?"

"Si, senor. "

"Bring us a couple of tazas, then--dos tazas, do you hear? and quick--aprisa! aprisa!"

"Si, senor. "

"Ah! here comes le voyageur Canadien. So, old Nor'-west! you've broughtthe wine?"

"Vin delicieux, Monsieur Saint Vrain! equal to ze vintage Francais. "

"He is right, Haller! Tsap--tsap! delicious you may say, good Gode. Tsap--tsap! Come, drink! it'll make you feel as strong as a buffalo. See! it seethes like a soda spring! like `Fontaine-qui-bouille'; eh, Gode?"

"Oui, monsieur; ver like Fontaine-qui-bouille. Oui. "

"Drink, man, drink! Don't fear it: it's the pure juice. Smell theflavour; taste the bouquet. What wine the Yankees will one day squeezeout of these New Mexican grapes!"

"Why? Do you think the Yankees have an eye to this quarter?"

"Think! I know it; and why not? What use are these manikins increation? Only to cumber the earth. Well, mozo, you have brought thecoffee?"

"Ya, esta, senor. "

"Here! try some of this; it will help to set you on your feet. They canmake coffee, and no mistake. It takes a Spaniard to do that. "

"What is this fandango Gode has been telling me about?"

"Ah! true. We are to have a famous one to-night. You'll go, ofcourse?"

"Out of curiosity. "

"Very well, you will have your curiosity gratified. The blustering oldgrampus of a Governor is to honour the ball with his presence; and it issaid, his pretty senora; that I don't believe. "

"Why not?"

"He's too much afraid lest one of these wild Americanos might whip heroff on the cantle of his saddle. Such things have been done in thisvery valley. By Saint Mary! she is good-looking, " continued SaintVrain, in a half-soliloquy, "and I knew a man--the cursed old tyrant!only think of it!"

"Of what?"

"The way he has bled us. Five hundred dollars a waggon, and a hundredof them at that; in all, fifty thousand dollars!"

"But will he pocket all this? Will not the Government--?"

"Government! no, every cent of it. He is the Government here; and, withthe help of this instalment, he will rule these miserable wretches withan iron rod. "

"And yet they hate him, do they not?"

"Him and his. And they have reason. "

"It is strange they do not rebel. "

"They have at times; but what can they do? Like all true tyrants, hehas divided them, and makes them spend their heart's hatred on oneanother. "

"But he seems not to have a very large army; no bodyguard--"

"Bodyguard!" cried Saint Vrain, interrupting me; "look out! there's hisbodyguard!"

"Indios bravos! les Navajoes!" exclaimed Gode, at the same instant. 

I looked forth into the street. Half a dozen tall savages, wrapped instriped serapes, were passing. Their wild, hungry looks, and slow, proud walk at once distinguished them from "Indios manzos, " thewater-drawing, wood-hewing pueblos. 

"Are they Navajoes?" I asked. 

"Oui, monsieur, oui!" replied Gode, apparently with some excitement. "Navajoes!"

"There's no mistaking them, " added Saint Vrain. 

"But the Navajoes are the notorious enemies of the New Mexicans! Howcome they to be here? Prisoners?"

"Do they look like prisoners?"

They certainly showed no signs of captivity in either look or gesture. They strode proudly up the street, occasionally glancing at the passerswith an air of savage and lordly contempt. 

"Why, then, are they here? Their country lies far to the west. "

"That is one of the secrets of Nuevo Mexico, about which I willenlighten you some other time. They are now protected by a treaty ofpeace, which is only binding upon them so long as it may suit theirconvenience to recognise it. At present they are as free here as you orI; indeed, more so, when it comes to that. I wouldn't wonder it we wereto meet them at the fandango to-night. "

"I have heard that the Navajoes are cannibals. "

"It is true. Look at them this minute! See how they gloat upon thatchubby little fellow, who seems instinctively to fear them. Lucky forthe urchin it's broad daylight, or he might get chucked under one ofthose striped blankets. "

"Are you in earnest, Saint Vrain?"

"By my word, I am not jesting! If I mistake not, Gode's experience willconfirm what I have said. Eh, voyageur?"

"C'est vrai, monsieur. I vas prisonnier in le nation; not Navagh, butl'Apache--moch de same--pour tree mons. I have les sauvages seenmanger--eat--one--deux--tree--tree enfants rotis, like hump rib of debuffles. C'est vrai, messieurs, c'est vrai. "

"It is quite true; both Apaches and Navajoes carry off children from thevalley, here, in their grand forays; and it is said by those who shouldknow, that most of them are used in that way. Whether as a sacrifice tothe fiery god Quetzalcoatl, or whether from a fondness lor human flesh, no one has yet been able to determine. In fact, with all theirpropinquity to this place, there is little known about them. Few whohave visited their towns have had Gode's luck to get away again. No manof these parts ever ventures across the western Sierras. "

"And how came you, Monsieur Gode, to save your scalp?"

"Pourquoi, monsieur, je n'ai pas. I not haves scalp-lock: vat detrappare Yankee call `har, ' mon scalp-lock is fabrique of von barbier deSaint Louis. Voila monsieur!"

So saying, the Canadian lifted his cap, and along with it what I had, upto this time, looked upon as a beautiful curling head of hair, but whichnow proved to be only a wig!

"Now, messieurs!" cried he, in good humour, "how les sauvages my scalptake? Indien no have cash hold. Sacr-r-r!"

Saint Vrain and I were unable to restrain our laughter at the alteredand comical appearance of the Canadian. 

"Come, Gode! the least you can do after that is to take a drink. Here, help yourself!"

"Tres-oblige, Monsieur Saint Vrain. Je vous remercie. " And theever-thirsty voyageur quaffed off the nectar of El Paso, like so muchfresh milk. 

"Come, Haller! we must to the waggons. Business first, then pleasure;such as we may find here among these brick stacks. But we'll have somefun in Chihuahua. "

"And you think we shall go there?"

"Certainly. They do not want the fourth part of our stuff here. Wemust carry it on to the head market. To the camp! Allons!"

CHAPTER SEVEN. 

THE FANDANGO. 

In the evening I sat in my room waiting for Saint Vrain. His voicereached me from without--

 "`Las ninas de Durango Commigo bailandas, Al cielo--!'

"Ha! Are you ready, my bold rider?"

"Not quite. Sit down a minute and wait. "

"Hurry, then! the dancing's begun. I have just come that way. What!that your ball-dress? Ha! ha! ha!" screamed Saint Vrain, seeing meunpack a blue coat and a pair of dark pantaloons, in a tolerable stateof preservation. 

"Why, yes, " replied I, looking up; "what fault do you find? But is thatyour ball-dress?"

No change had taken place in the ordinary raiment of my friend. Thefringed hunting-shirt and leggings, the belt, the bowie, and thepistols, were all before me. 

"Yes, my dandy; this is my ball-dress: it ain't anything shorter; and ifyou'll take my advice, you'll wear what you have got on your back. Howwill your long-tailed blue look, with a broad belt and bowie strappedround the skirts? Ha! ha! ha!"

"But why take either belt or bowie? You are surely not going into aball-room with your pistols in that fashion?"

"And how else should I carry them? In my hands?"

"Leave them here. "

"Ha! ha! that would be a green trick. No, no. Once bit, twice shy. You don't catch this 'coon going into any fandango in Santa Fe withouthis six-shooters. Come, keep on that shirt; let your leggings sweatwhere they are, and buckle this about you. That's the _costume du bal_in these parts. "

"If you assure me that my dress will be _comme il faut_, I'm agreed. "

"It won't be with the long-tailed blue, I promise you. "

The long-tailed blue was restored forthwith to its nook in myportmanteau. 

Saint Vrain was right. On arriving at the room, a large sala in theneighbourhood of the Plaza, we found it filled with hunters, trappers, traders, and teamsters, all swaggering about in their usual mountainrig. Mixed among them were some two or three score of the natives, withan equal number of senoritas, all of whom, by their style of dress, Irecognise as poblanas, or persons of the lower class, --the only class, in fact, to be met with in Santa Fe. 

As we entered, most of the men had thrown aside their serapes for thedance, and appeared in all the finery of embroidered velvet, stampedleather, and shining "castletops. " The women looked not lesspicturesque in their bright naguas, snowy chemisettes, and small satinslippers. Some of them flounced it in polka jackets; for even to thatremote region the famous dance had found its way. 

"Have you heard of the electric telegraph?"

"No, senor. "

"Can you tell me what a railroad is?"

"Quien sabe?"

"La polka?"

"Ah! senor, la polka, la polka! cosa buenita, tan graciosa! vaya!"

The ball-room was a long, oblong sala with a banquette running all roundit. Upon this the dancers seated themselves, drew out their huskcigarettes, chatted, and smoked, during the intervals of the dance. Inone corner half a dozen sons of Orpheus twanged away upon harp, guitar, and bandolin; occasionally helping out the music with a shrillhalf-Indian chant. In another angle of the apartment, puros, and Taoswhisky were dealt out to the thirsty mountaineers, who made the salaring with their wild ejaculations. There were scenes like thefollowing:--

"Hyar, my little muchacha! vamos, vamos, ter dance! Mucho bueno! Muchobueno? Will ye?"

This is from a great rough fellow of six feet and over, addressed to atrim little poblana. 

"Mucho bueno, Senor Americano!" replies the lady. 

"Hooraw for you! Come along! Let's licker fust! You're the gal for mybeaver. What'll yer drink? Agwardent or vino?"

"Copitita de vino, senor. " (A small glass of wine, sir. )

"Hyar, yer darned greaser! Set out yer vino in a squ'll's jump! Now, my little un', hyar's luck, and a good husband!"

"Gracias, Senor Americano!"

"What! you understand that? You intende, do yer?"

"Si, senor!"

"Hooraw, then! Look hyar, little 'un, kin yer go the b'ar dance?"

"No entiende. "

"Yer don't understan' it! Hyar it is; thisa-way;" and the clumsy hunterbegan to show off before his partner, in an imitation of the grizzlybear. 

"Hollo, Bill!" cries a comrade, "yer'll be trapped if yer don't looksharp. "

"I'm dog-gone, Jim, if I don't feel queery about hyar, " replies thehunter, spreading his great paw over the region of the heart. 

"Don't be skeert, man; it's a nice gal, anyways. "

"Hooray for old Missouri!" shouts a teamster. 

"Come, boys! Let's show these yer greasers a Virginny break-down. `Cl'ar the kitchen, old folks, young folks. '"

"Go it hoe and toe! `Old Virginny nebir tire!'"

"Viva el Gobernador! Viva Armijo! Viva! viva!"

An arrival at this moment caused a sensation in the room. A stout, fat, priest-like man entered, accompanied by several others, it was theGovernor and his suite, with a number of well-dressed citizens, who wereno doubt the elite of New Mexican society. Some of the new-comers weremilitaires, dressed in gaudy and foolish-looking uniforms that were soonseen spinning round the room in the mazes of the waltz. 

"Where is the Senora Armijo?" I whispered to Saint Vrain. 

"I told you as much. She! she won't be out. Stay here; I am going fora short while. Help yourself to a partner, and see some tun. I will beback presently. _Au revoir_!"

Without any further explanation, Saint Vrain squeezed himself throughthe crowd and disappeared. 

I had been seated on the banquette since entering the sala, Saint Vrainbeside me, in a retired corner of the room. A man of peculiarappearance occupied the seat next to Saint Vrain, but farther into theshadow of a piece of furniture. I had noticed this man as we entered, and noticed, too, that Saint Vrain spoke to him; but I was notintroduced, and the interposition of my friend prevented me from makingany further observation of him until the latter had retired. We werenow side by side; and I commenced a sort of angular reconnaissance of aface and figure that had somewhat strangely arrested my attention. Hewas not an American; that was evident from his dress; and yet the facewas not Mexican. Its outlines were too bold for a Spanish face, thoughthe complexion, from tan and exposure, was brown and swarth. His facewas clean-shaven except his chin, which carried a pointed, darkishbeard. The eye, if I saw it aright under the shadow of a slouched brim, was blue and mild; the hair brown and wavy, with here and there a strandof silver. These were not Spanish characteristics, much lessHispano-American; and I should have at once placed my neighbourelsewhere, but that his dress puzzled me. It was purely a Mexicancostume, and consisted of a purple manga, with dark velvet embroideryaround the vent and along the borders. As this garment covered thegreater part of his person, I could only see that underneath was a pairof green velveteen calzoneros, with yellow buttons, and snow-whitecalzoncillos puffing out along the seams. The bottoms of the calzoneroswere trimmed with stamped black leather; and under these were yellowboots, with a heavy steel spur upon the heel of each. The broad peakedstrap that confined the spur, passing over the foot, gave to it thatpeculiar contour that we observe in the pictures of armed knights of theolden time. He wore a black, broad-brimmed sombrero, girdled by a thickband of gold bullion. A pair of tags of the same material stuck outfrom the sides: the fashion of the country. 

The man kept his sombrero slouched towards the light, as I thought orsuspected, for the concealment of his face. And vet it was not anill-favoured one. On the contrary, it was open and pleasing; no doubthad been handsome beforetime, and whatever caused its melancholyexpression had lined and clouded it. It was this expression that hadstruck me on first seeing the man. 

Whilst I was making these observations, eyeing him cross-wise all thewhile, I discovered that he was eyeing me in a similar manner, and withan interest apparently equal to my own. This caused us to face round toeach other, when the stranger drew from under his manga a small beadedcigarero, and, gracefully holding it out to me, said--

"Quiere a fumar, caballero?" (Would you smoke, sir?)

"Thank you, yes, " I replied in Spanish, at the same time taking a cigarfrom the case. 

We had hardly lit our cigarettes when the man again turned to me withthe unexpected question--

"Will you sell your horse?"

"No. "

"Not for a good price?"

"Not for any price. "

"I would give five hundred dollars for him. "

"I would not part with him for twice the amount. "

"I will give twice the amount. "

"I have become attached to him: money is no object. "

"I am sorry to hear it. I have travelled two hundred miles to buy thathorse. "

I looked at my new acquaintance with astonishment, involuntarilyrepeating his last words. 

"You must have followed us from the Arkansas, then?"

"No, I came from the Rio Abajo. "

"The Rio Abajo! You mean from down the Del Norte?"

"Yes. "

"Then, my dear sir, it is a mistake. You think you are talking tosomebody else, and bidding for some other horse. "

"Oh, no! He is yours. A black stallion with red nose and long fulltail, half-bred Arabian. There is a small mark over the left eye. "

This was certainly the description of Moro; and I began to feel a sortof superstitious awe in regard to my mysterious neighbour. 

"True, " replied I; "that is all correct; but I bought that stallion manymonths ago from a Louisiana planter. If you have just arrived from twohundred miles down the Rio Grande, how, may I ask, could you have knownanything about me or my horse?"

"Dispensadme, caballero! I did not mean that. I came from below tomeet the caravan, for the purpose of buying an American horse. Yours isthe only one in the caballada I would buy, and, it seems, the only onethat is not for sale!"

"I am sorry for that; but I have tested the qualities of this animal. We have become friends. No common motive would induce me to part withhim. "

"Ah, senor! it is not a common motive that makes me so eager to purchasehim. If you knew that, perhaps--" he hesitated a moment; "but no, no, no!" and after muttering some half-coherent words, among which I couldrecognise the "Buenos noches, caballero!" the stranger rose up with thesame mysterious air that had all along characterised him, and left me. I could hear the tinkling of the small bells upon the rowels of hisspurs, as he slowly warped himself through the gay crowd, anddisappeared into the night. 

The vacated seat was soon occupied by a dusky manola, whose brightnagua, embroidered chemisette, brown ankles, and small blue slippers, drew my attention. This was all I could see of her, except theoccasional flash of a very black eye through the loophole of the rebozotapado. By degrees, the rebozo became more generous, the loopholeexpanded, and the outlines of a very pretty and very malicious littleface were displayed before me. The end of the scarf was adroitlyremoved from the left shoulder; and a nude, plump arm, ending in a bunchof small jewelled fingers, hung carelessly down. 

I am tolerably bashful; but at the sight of this tempting partner, Icould hold in no longer, and bending towards her, I said in my bestSpanish, "Do me the favour, miss, to waltz with me. "

The wicked little manola first held down her head and blushed; then, raising the long fringes of her eyes, looked up again, and wits a voiceas sweet as that of a canary-bird, replied--

"Con gusto, senor. " (With pleasure, sir. )

"Nos vamos!" cried I, elated with my triumph; and pairing off with mybrilliant partner, we were soon whirling about in the mazy. 

We returned to our seats again, and after refreshing with a glass ofAlbuquerque, a sponge-cake, and a husk cigarette, again took the floor. This pleasurable programme we repeated some half-dozen times, onlyvarying the dance from waltz to polka, for my manola danced the polka asif she had been a born Bohemian. 

On one of my fingers was a fifty-dollar diamond, which my partner seemedto think was _muy buenito_. As her igneous eyes softened my heart, andthe champagne was producing a similar effect upon my head, I began tospeculate on the propriety of transferring the diamond from the smallestof my fingers to the largest of hers, which it would, no doubt, havefitted exactly. All at once I became conscious of being under thesurveillance of a large and very fierce-looking lepero, a regularpelado, who followed us with his eyes, and sometimes _in persona_, toevery part of the room. The expression of his swarth face was a mixtureof jealousy and vengeance, which my partner noticed, but, as I thought, took no pains to soften down. 

"Who is he?" I whispered, as the man swung past us in his chequeredserape. 

"Esta mi marido, senor, " (It is my husband, sir), was the cool reply. 

I pushed the ring close up to the root of my finger, shutting my handupon it tight as a vice. 

"Vamos a tomar otra copita!" (Let us take another glass of wine!) saidI, resolving to bid my pretty poblana, as soon as possible, agood-night. 

The Taos whisky had by this time produced its effect upon the dancers. The trappers and teamsters had become noisy and riotous. The leperos, who now half-filled the room, stimulated by wine, jealousy, old hatreds, and the dance, began to look more savage and sulky. The fringedhunting-shirts and brown homespun frocks found favour with the dark-eyedmajas of Mexico, partly out of a respect for, and a fear of, courage, which is often at the bottom of a love like theirs. 

Although the trading caravans supplied almost all the commerce of SantaFe, and it was clearly the interest of its inhabitants to be on goodterms with the traders, the two races, Anglo-American andHispano-Indian, hated each other thoroughly; and that hate was nowdisplaying itself on one side in bullying contempt, on the other inmuttered _carrajos_ and fierce looks of vengeance. 

I was still chatting with my lively partner. We were seated on thebanquette where I had introduced myself. On looking casually up, abright object met my eyes. It appeared to be a naked knife in the handsof _su marido_ who was just then lowering over us like the shadow of anevil spirit. I was favoured with only a slight glimpse of thisdangerous meteor, and had made up my mind to "'ware steel, " when someoneplucked me by the sleeve, and turning, I beheld my quondam acquaintanceof the purple magna. 

"Dispensadme, senor, " said he, nodding graciously, "I have just learnedthat the caravan is going on to Chihuahua. "

"True, there is no market here for our goods. "

"You go on then, of course?"

"Certainly, I must. "

"Will you return this way, senor?"

"It is very likely; I have no other intention at present. "

"Perhaps then you might be willing to part with your horse? You willfind many as good in the great valley of the Mississippi. "

"Neither is likely. "

"But, senor, should you be inclined to do so, will you promise me therefusal of him?"

"Oh! that I will promise you, with all my heart. "

Our conversation was here interrupted by a huge, gaunt, half-drunkenMissourian, who, tramping rudely upon the stranger's toes, vociferated--

"Ye--up, old greaser! gi' mi a char. "

"Y porque?" (And why?) demanded the Mexican, drawing in his feet, andlooking up with astonished indignation. 

"I'm tired jumpin'. I want a seat, that's it, old hoss. "

There was something so bullying and brutal in the conduct of this man, that I felt called upon to interfere. 

"Come!" said I, addressing him, "you have no right to deprive thisgentleman of his seat, much less in such a fashion. "

"Eh, mister? who asked you to open yer head? Ye--up, I say!" and at theword, he seized the Mexican by the corner of his manga, as if to draghim from his seat. 

Before I had time to reply to this rude speech and gesture, the strangerleaped to his feet, and with a well-planted blow felled the bully uponthe floor. 

This seemed to act as a signal for bringing several other quarrels to aclimax. There was a rush through all parts of the sala, drunken shoutsmingled with yells of vengeance, knives glanced from their sheaths, women screamed, pistols flashed and cracked, filling the rooms withsmoke and dust. The lights went out, fierce struggles could be heard inthe darkness, the fall of heavy bodies amidst groans and curses, and forfive minutes these were the only sounds. 

Having no cause to be particularly _angry_ with anybody, I stood where Ihad risen, without using either knife or pistol, my frightened _maja_all the while holding me by the hand. A painful sensation near my leftshoulder caused me suddenly to drop my partner; and with thatunaccountable weakness consequent upon the reception of a wound, I feltmyself staggering towards the banquette. Here I dropped into a sittingposture, and remained till the struggle was over, conscious all thewhile that a stream of blood was oozing down my back, and saturating myundergarments. 

I sat thus till the struggle had ended. A light was brought, and Icould distinguish a number of men in hunting-shirts moving to-and-frowith violent gesticulations. Some of them were advocating the justiceof the "spree, " as they termed it; while others, the more respectable ofthe traders, were denouncing it. The leperos with the women, had alldisappeared, and I could perceive that the Americanos had carried theday. Several dark objects lay along the floor: they were bodies of mendead or dying! One was an American, the Missourian who had been theimmediate cause of the fracas; the others were pelodos. I could seenothing of my late acquaintance. My fandanguera, too--_con su marido_--had disappeared; and on glancing at my left hand, I came to theconclusion that so also had my diamond ring!

"Saint Vrain! Saint Vrain!" I called, seeing the figure of my friendenter at the door. 

"Where are you, H. , old boy. How is it with you? all right, eh?"

"Not quite, I tear. "

"Good heavens! what's this? why, you're stabbed in the hump ribs! Notbad, I hope. Off with your shirt and let's see. "

"First, let us to my room. "

"Come, then, my dear boy, lean on me--so, so!"

The fandango was over. 

CHAPTER EIGHT. 

SEGUIN THE SCALP-HUNTER. 

I have had the pleasure of being wounded in the field of battle. I saypleasure. Under certain circumstances, wounds are luxuries. Howdifferent were the feelings I experienced while smarting under woundsthat came by the steel of the assassin!

My earliest anxiety was about the depth of my wound. Was it mortal?This is generally the first question a man puts to himself, afterdiscovering that he has been shot or stabbed. A wounded man cannotalways answer it either. One's life-blood may be spurting from anartery at each palpitation, while the actual pain felt is not worth thepricking of a pin. 

On reaching the Fonda, I sank exhausted on my bed. Saint Vrain split myhunting-shirt from cape to skirt, and commenced examining my wound. Icould not see my friend's face as he stood behind me, and I waited withimpatience. 

"Is it deep?" I asked. 

"Not deep as a draw-well, nor wide as a waggon-track, " was the reply. "You're quite safe, old fellow; thank God, and not the man who handledthat knife, for the fellow plainly intended to do for you. It is thecut of a Spanish knife, and a devilish gash it is. Haller, it was aclose shave. One inch more, and the spine, my boy! but you're safe, Isay. Here, Gode! that sponge!"

"Sacre!" muttered Gode, with true Gallic aspirate, as he handed the wetrag. 

I felt the cold application. Then a bunch of soft raw cotton, the bestdressing it could have, was laid over the wound, and fastened by strips. The most skilful surgeon could have done no more. 

"Close as a clamp, " added Saint Vrain, as he fastened the last pin, andplaced me in the easiest position. "But what started the row? and howcame you to cut such a figure in it? I was out, thank God!"

"Did you observe a strange-looking man?"

"What! with the purple manga?"

"Yes. "

"He sat beside us?"

"Yes. "

"Ha! No wonder you say a strange-looking man; stranger than he looks, too. I saw him, I know him, and perhaps not another in the room couldsay that. Ay, there was another, " continued Saint Vrain, with apeculiar smile; "but what could have brought him there is that whichpuzzles me. Armijo could not have seen him: but go on. "

I related to Saint Vrain the whole of my conversation with the stranger, and the incidents that led to the breaking up of the fandango. 

"It is odd--very odd! What could he want with your horse? Two hundredmiles, and offers a thousand dollars!"

"Capitaine!" (Gode had called me captain ever since the ride upon thebuffalo), "if monsieur come two hunred mile, and vill pay un millethousan dollar, he Moro like ver, ver moch. Un grand passion pour lecheval. Pourquoi: vy he no like him ver sheep? vy he no steal 'im?"

I started at the suggestion, and looked towards Saint Vrain. 

"Vith permiss of le capitaine, I vill le cheval cache, " continued theCanadian, moving towards the door. 

"You need not trouble yourself, old Nor'-west, as far as that gentlemanis concerned. He'll not steal your horse; though that's no reason whyyou should not fulfil your intention, and `cache' the animal. There arethieves enough in Santa Fe to steal the horses of a whole regiment. Youhad better fasten him by the door here. "

Gode passed to the door and disappeared. 

"Who is he?" I asked, "this man about whom there seems to be so muchthat is mysterious?"

"Ah! if you knew. I will tell you some queer passages by and by, butnot to-night. You have no need of excitement. That is the famousSeguin--the Scalp-hunter. "

"The Scalp-hunter!"

"Ay! you have heard of him, no doubt; at least you would, had you beenmuch among the mountains. "

"I have. The ruffian! the wholesale butcher of innocent--"

A dark waif danced against the wall: it was the shadow of a man. Ilooked up. Seguin was before me!

Saint Vrain on seeing him enter had turned away, and stood looking outof the window. 

I was on the point of changing my tirade into the apostrophic form, andat the same time ordering the man out of my sight, when something in hislook influenced me to remain silent. I could not tell whether he hadheard or understood to whom my abusive epithets had been applied; butthere was nothing in his manner that betrayed his having done so. Iobserved only the same look that had at first attracted me--the sameexpression of deep melancholy. 

Could this man be the hardened and heartless villain I had heard of, theauthor of so many atrocities?

"Sir, " said he, seeing that I remained silent, "I deeply regret what hashappened to you. I was the involuntary cause of your mishap. Is yourwound a severe one?"

"It is not, " I replied, with a dryness of manner that seemed somewhat todisconcert him. 

"I am glad of that, " he continued, after a pause. "I came to thank youfor your generous interference. I leave Santa Fe in ten minutes. Imust bid you farewell. "

He held forth his hand. I muttered the word "farewell, " but withoutoffering to exchange the salutation. The stories of cruel atrocityconnected with the name of this man came into my mind at the moment, andI felt a loathing for him. His arm remained in its outstretchedposition, while a strange expression began to steal over hiscountenance, as he saw that I hesitated. 

"I cannot take your hand, " I said at length. 

"And why?" he asked, in a mild tone. 

"Why? It is red, red! Away, sir, away!"

He fixed his eyes upon me with a sorrowful look. There was not a sparkof anger in them. He drew his hand within the folds of his manga, anduttering a deep sigh, turned and walked slowly out of the room. 

Saint Vrain, who had wheeled round at the close of this scene, strodeforward to the door, and stood looking after him. I could see theMexican, from where I lay, as he crossed the quadrangular patio. He hadshrugged himself closely in his manga, and was moving off in an attitudethat betokened the deepest dejection. In a moment he was out of sight, having passed through the saguan, and into the street. 

"There is something truly mysterious about that man. Tell me, SaintVrain--"

"Hush-sh! look yonder!" interrupted my friend, pointing through the opendoor. 

I looked out into the moonlight. Three human forms were moving alongthe wall, towards the entrance of the patio. Their height, theirpeculiar attitudes, and the stealthy silence of their steps, convincedme they were Indians. The next moment they were lost under the darkshadows of the saguan. 

"Who are they?" I inquired. 

"Worse enemies to poor Seguin than you would be, if you knew him better. I pity him if these hungry hawks overtake him in the dark. But no;he's worth warning, and a hand to help him, if need be. He shall haveit. Keep cool, Harry! I will be back in a jiffy. "

So saying, Saint Vrain left me; and the moment after I could see hislight form passing hastily out of the gate. 

I lay reflecting on the strangeness of the incidents that seemed to beoccurring around me. I was not without some painful reflections. I hadwounded the feelings of one who had not injured me, and for whom myfriend evidently entertained a high respect. A shod hoof sounded uponthe stones outside; it was Gode with my horse; and the next moment Iheard him hammering the picket-pin into the pavement. 

Shortly after, Saint Vrain himself returned. 

"Well, " I inquired, "what happened you?"

"Nothing much. That's a weasel that never sleeps. He had mounted hishorse before they came up with him, and was very soon out of theirreach. "

"But may they not follow him on horseback?"

"That is not likely. He has comrades not far from here, I warrant you. Armijo--and it was he sent those villains on his track--has no forcethat dare follow him when he gets upon the wild hills. No fear for himonce he has cleared the houses. "

"But, my dear Saint Vrain, tell me what you know of this singular man. I am wound up to a pitch of curiosity. "

"Not to-night, Harry; not to-night. I do not wish to cause you furtherexcitement; besides, I have reason to leave you now. To-morrow, then. Good-night! Good-night!"

And so saying, my mercurial friend left me to Gode and a night ofrestlessness. 

CHAPTER NINE. 

LEFT BEHIND. 

On the third day after the fandango, it is announced that the caravanwill move onward to Chihuahua. The day arrives, and I am unable totravel with it. My surgeon, a wretched leech of a Mexican, assures methat it will be certain death to attempt the journey. For want of anyopposing evidence, I am constrained to believe him. I have noalternative but to adopt the joyless resolve to remain in Santa Fe untilthe return of the traders. 

Chafing on a feverish bed, I take leave of my late companions. We partwith many regrets; but, above all, I am pained at bidding adieu to SaintVrain, whose light-hearted companionship has been my solace throughthree days of suffering. He has proved my friend; and has undertaken totake charge of my waggons, and dispose of my goods in the market ofChihuahua. 

"Do not fret, man, " says he, taking leave. "Kill time with thechampagne of El Paso. We will be back in a squirrel's jump; and, trustme, I will bring you a mule-load of Mexican shiners. God bless you!Good-bye!"

I can sit up in my bed and, from the open window, see the white tilts ofthe waggons, as the train rolls over a neighbouring hill. I hear thecracking whips and the deep-toned "wo-ha" of the teamsters; I see thetraders mount and gallop after; and I turn upon my couch with a feelingof loneliness and desertion. 

For days I lay tossing and fretting, despite the consolatory influenceof the champagne, and the rude but kindly attentions of my voyageurvalet. 

I rise at length, dress myself, and sit in my ventana. I have a goodview of the plaza and the adjacent streets, with their rows of brownadobe houses, and dusty ways between. 

I gaze, hour after hour, on what is passing without. The scene is notwithout novelty as well as variety. Swarthy, ill-favoured faces appearbehind the folds of dingy rebozos. Fierce glances lower under theslouch of broad sombreros. Poplanas with short skirts and slipperedfeet pass my window; and groups of "tame" Indians, pueblos, crowd infrom the neighbouring rancherias, belabouring their donkeys as they go. These bring baskets of fruit and vegetables. They squat down upon thedusty plaza, behind piles of prickly pears, or pyramids of tomatoes andchile. The women, light-hearted hucksters, laugh and sing and chattercontinuously. The tortillera, kneeling by her metate, bruises theboiled maize, claps it into thin flakes, flings it on the heated stone, and then cries, "Tortillas! tortillas calientes!" The cocinera stirsthe peppery stew of chile Colorado, lifts the red liquid in her woodenladle, and invites her customers by the expressions: "Chile bueno!excellente!" "Carbon! carbon!" cries the charcoal-burner. "Agua! agualimpia!" shouts the aguadord. "Pan fino, pan bianco!" screams thebaker; and other cries from the vendors of atole, huevos, and leche, areuttered in shrill, discordant voices. Such are the voices of a Mexicanplaza. 

They are at first interesting. They become monotonous, thendisagreeable; until at length I am tortured, and listen to them with afeverish excitement. 

After a few days I am able to walk, and go out with my faithful Gode. We stroll through the town. It reminds me of an extensive brick-fieldbefore the kilns have been set on fire. 

We encounter the same brown adobes everywhere; the samevillainous-looking leperos lounging at the corners; the samebare-legged, slippered wenches; the same strings of belaboured donkeys;the same shrill and detestable cries. 

We pass by a ruinous-looking house in a remote quarter. Our ears aresaluted by voices from within. We hear shouts of "Mueran los Yankies!Abajo los Americanos!" No doubt the pelado to whom I was indebted formy wound is among the ruffians who crowd into the windows; but I knowthe lawlessness of the place too well to apply for justice. 

We hear the same shouts in another street; again in the plaza; and Godeand I re-enter the Fonda with a conviction that our appearance in publicmight be attended with danger. We resolve, therefore, to keep withindoors. 

In all my life I never suffered ennui as when cooped up in thissemi-barbarous town, and almost confined within the walls of its filthyFonda. I felt it the more that I had so lately enjoyed the company ofsuch free, jovial spirits, and I could fancy them in their bivouacs onthe banks of the Del Norte, carousing, laughing, or listening to somewild mountain story. 

Gode shared my feelings, and became as desponding as myself. The lighthumour of the voyageur disappeared. The song of the Canadian boatmanwas heard no longer; but, in its place, the "sacre" and Englishexclamations were spluttered plentifully, and hurled at everythingMexican. I resolved at length to put an end to our sufferings. 

"This life will never do, Gode, " said I, addressing my compagnon. 

"Ah! monsieur, nevare! nevare it vill do. Ah! ver doll. It is like vonassemblee of le Quaker. "

"I am determined to endure it no longer. "

"But what can monsieur do? How, capitaine?"

"By leaving this accursed place, and that to-morrow. "

"But is monsieur fort? strongs beau-coup? strongs to ride?"

"I will risk it, Gode. If I break down, there are other towns on theriver where we can halt. Anywhere better than here. "

"C'est vrai, capitaine. Beautiful village down the river. Albuquerque;Tome: ver many village. Mon Dieu! all better, Santa Fe is one camp oftief. Ver good for us go, monsieur; ver good. "

"Good or not, Gode, I am going. So make your preparations to-night, forI will leave in the morning before sunrise. "

"It will be von grand plaisir to makes ready. " And the Canadian ranfrom the room, snapping his fingers with delight. 

I had made up my mind to leave Santa Fe at any rate. Should mystrength, yet but half restored, hold out, I would follow, and ifpossible overtake the caravan. I knew it could make but short journeysover the deep sand roads of the Del Norte. Should I not succeed incoming up with it, I could halt in Albuquerque or El Paso, either ofwhich would offer me a residence at least as agreeable as the one I wasleaving. 

My surgeon endeavoured to dissuade me from setting out. He representedthat I was in a most critical condition, my wound far from beingcicatrised. He set forth in most eloquent terms the dangers of fever, of gangrene, of haemorrhage. He saw I was obstinate, and concluded hismonitions by presenting his bill. It amounted to the modest sum of onehundred dollars! It was an extortion. What could I do? I stormed andprotested. The Mexican threatened me with "Governor's" justice. Godeswore in French, Spanish, English, and Indian. It was all to nopurpose. I saw that the bill would have to be paid, and I paid it, though with indifferent grace. 

The leech disappeared, and the landlord came next. He, like the former, made earnest entreaty to prevent me from setting forth. He offered avariety of reasons to detain me. 

"Do not go; for your life, senor, do not!"

"And why, good Jose?" I inquired. 

"Oh, senor, los Indios bravos! los Navajoes! carambo!"

"But I am not going into the Indian country. I travel down the river, through the towns of New Mexico. "

"Ah! senor! the towns! no hay seguridad. No, no; there is safetynowhere from the Navajo. Hay novedades: news this very day. Polvidera;pobre polvidera! It was attacked on Sunday last. On Sunday, senor, when they were all en la misa. Pues, senor, the robbers surrounded thechurch; and oh, carambo! they dragged out the poor people--men, womenand children! Pues, senor; they kill the men: and the women: Dios de mialma!"

"Well, and the women?"

"Oh, senor! they are all gone; they were carried to the mountains by thesavages. Pobres mugeres!"

"It is a sad story, truly; but the Indians, I understand, only makethese forays at long intervals. I am not likely to meet with them now. At all events, Jose, I have made up my mind to run the risk. "

"But, senor, " continued Jose, lowering his voice to a confidential tone, "there are other ladrones besides the Indians: white ones, muchos, muchissimos! Ay, indeed, mi amo, white robbers; blancos, blancos y muyfeos, carrai!"

And Jose closed his fingers as if clutching some imaginary object. 

This appeal to my fears was in vain. I answered it by pointing to myrevolvers and rifle, and to the well-filled belt of my henchman Gode. 

When the Mexican Boniface saw that I was determined to rob him of allthe guests he had in his house, he retired sullenly, and shortly afterreturned with his bill. Like that of the medico, it was out of allproportion; but I could not help myself, and paid it. 

By grey dawn I was in my saddle; and, followed by Gode and a couple ofheavily packed mules, I rode out of the ill-favoured town, and took theroad for the Rio Abajo. 

CHAPTER TEN. 

THE DEL NORTE. 

For days we journey down the Del Norte. We pass through numerousvillages, many of them types of Santa Fe. We cross the zequias andirrigating canals, and pass along fields of bright green maize plants. We see vineyards and grand haciendas. These appear richer and moreprosperous as we approach the southern part of the province, the RioAbajo. 

In the distance, both east and west, we descry dark mountains rolled upagainst the sky. These are the twin ranges of the Rocky Mountains. Long spurs trend towards the river, and in places appear to close up thevalley. They add to the expression of many a beautiful landscape thatopens before us as we move onward. 

We see picturesque costumes in the villages and along the highways: mendressed in the chequered serape or the striped blankets of the Navajoes;conical sombreros with broad brims; calzoneros of velveteen, with theirrows of shining "castletops" and fastened at the waist by the jauntysash. We see mangas and tilmas, and men wearing the sandal, as inEastern lands. On the women we observe the graceful rebozo, the shortnagua, and the embroidered chemisette. 

We see rude implements of husbandry: the creaking carreta, with itsblock wheels; the primitive plough of the forking tree-branch, scarcelyscoring the soil; the horn-yoked oxen; the goad; the clumsy hoe in thehands of the peon serf: these are all objects that are new and curiousto our eyes, and that indicate the lowest order of agriculturalknowledge. 

Along the roads we meet numerous atajos, in charge of their arrieros. We observe the mules, small, smooth, light-limbed, and vicious. Weglance at the heavy alparejas and bright worsted apishamores. We noticethe tight wiry mustangs, ridden by the arrieros; the high-peaked saddlesand hair bridles; the swarth faces and pointed beards of the riders; thehuge spurs that tinkle at every step; the exclamations, "Hola, mula!malraya! vaya!" We notice all these, and they tell us we are journeyingin the land of the Hispano-American. 

Under other circumstances these objects would have interested me. Atthat time, they appeared to me like the pictures of a panorama, or thechanging scenes of a continuous dream. As such have they left theirimpressions on my memory. I was under the incipient delirium of fever. 

It was as yet only incipient; nevertheless, it distorted the imagesaround me, and rendered their impressions unnatural and wearisome. Mywound began to pain me afresh, and the hot sun, and the dust, and thethirst, with the miserable accommodations of New Mexican posadas, vexedme to an excess of endurance. 

On the fifth day after leaving Santa Fe, we entered the wretched littlepueblo of Parida. It was my intention to have remained there all night, but it proved a ruffian sort of place, with meagre chances of comfort, and I moved on to Socorro. This is the last inhabited spot in NewMexico, as you approach the terrible desert, the Jornada del Muerte. 

Gode had never made the journey, and at Parida I had obtained one thingthat we stood in need of, a guide. He had volunteered; and as I learntthat it would be no easy task to procure one at Socorro, I was fain totake him along. He was a coarse, shaggy-looking customer, and I did notat all like his appearance; but I found, on reaching Socorro, that whatI had heard was correct. No guide could be hired on any terms, so greatwas their dread of the Jornada and its occasional denizens, the Apaches. 

Socorro was alive with Indian rumours, "novedades. " The Indians hadfallen upon an atajo near the crossing of Fra Cristobal, and murderedthe arrieros to a man. The village was full of consternation at thenews. The people dreaded an attack, and thought me mad, when I madeknown my intention of crossing the Jornada. 

I began to fear they would frighten my guide from his engagement, butthe fellow stood out staunchly, still expressing his willingness toaccompany us. 

Without the prospect of meeting the Apache savages, I was but illprepared for the Jornada. The pain of my wound had increased, and I wasfatigued and burning with fever. 

But the caravan had passed through Socorro only three days before, and Iwas in hopes of overtaking my old companions before they could leave ElPaso. This determined me to proceed in the morning, and I madearrangements for an early start. 

Gode and I were awake before dawn. My attendant went out to summon theguide and saddle our animals. I remained in the house, makingpreparations for a cup of coffee before starting. I was assisted by thelandlord of the posada, who had risen, and was stalking about in hisserape. 

While thus engaged I was startled by the voice of Gode calling fromwithout, "Von maitre! von maitre! the rascal have him run vay!"

"What do you mean? Who has run away?"

"Oh, monsieur! la Mexicaine, with von mule, has robb, and run vay. Allons, monsieur, allons!"

I followed the Canadian to the stable with a feeling of anxiety. Myhorse--but no--thank Heaven, he was there! One of the mules, the macho, was gone. It was the one which the guide had ridden from Parida. 

"Perhaps he is not off yet, " I suggested. "He may still be in thetown. "

We sent and went in all directions to find him, but to no purpose. Wewere relieved at length from all doubts by the arrival of some earlymarket men, who had met such a man as our guide far up the river, andriding a mule at full gallop. 

What should we do? Follow him to Parida? No; that would be a journeyfor nothing. I knew that he would not be fool enough to go that way. Even if he did, it would have been a fool's errand to seek for justicethere, so I determined on leaving it over until the return of thetraders would enable me to find the thief, and demand his punishmentfrom the authorities. 

My regrets at the loss of my macho were not unmixed with a sort ofgratitude to the fellow when I laid my hand upon the nose of mywhimpering charger. What hindered him from taking the horse instead ofthe mule? It is a question I have never been able to answer to thisday. I can only account for the fellow's preference for the mule on thescore of downright honesty, or the most perverse stupidity. 

I made overtures for another guide. I applied to the Boniface ofSocorro, but without success. He knew no mozo who would undertake thejourney. 

"Los Apaches! los Apaches!"

I appealed to the peons and loiterers of the plaza. 

"Los Apaches!"

Wherever I went, I was answered with "Los Apaches, " and a shake of theforefinger in front of the nose--a negative sign over all Mexico. 

"It is plain, Gode, we can get no guide. We must try this Jornadawithout one. What say you, voyageur?"

"I am agree, mon maitre; allons!"

And, followed by my faithful compagnon, with our remaining pack-mule, Itook the road that leads to the desert. That night we slept among theruins of Valverde; and the next morning, after an early start, embarkedupon the "Journey of Death. "

CHAPTER ELEVEN. 

THE "JOURNEY OF DEATH. "

In two hours we reached the crossing at Fra Cristobal. Here the roadparts from the river, and strikes into the waterless desert. We plungethrough the shallow ford, coming out on the eastern bank. We fill our"xuages" with care, and give our animals as much as they will drink. After a short halt to refresh ourselves, we ride onward. 

We have not travelled far before we recognise the appropriate name ofthis terrible journey. Scattered along the path we see the bones ofmany animals. There are human bones too! That white spheroidal mass, with its grinning rows and serrated sutures, that is a human skull. Itlies beside the skeleton of a horse. Horse and rider have fallentogether. The wolves have stripped them at the same time. They havedropped down on their thirsty track, and perished in despair, althoughwater, had they known it, was within reach of another effort!

We see the skeleton of a mule, with the alpareja still buckled aroundit, and an old blanket, flapped and tossed by many a whistling wind. 

Other objects, that have been brought there by human aid, strike the eyeas we proceed. A bruised canteen, the fragments of a glass bottle, anold hat, a piece of saddle-cloth, a stirrup red with rust, a brokenstrap, with many like symbols, are strewn along our path, speaking amelancholy language. 

We are still only on the border of the desert. We are fresh. How whenwe have travelled over and neared the opposite side? Shall we leavesuch souvenirs?

We are filled with painful forebodings, as we look across the arid wastethat stretches indefinitely before us. We do not dread the Apache. Nature herself is the enemy we fear. 

Taking the waggon-tracks for our guide, we creep on. We grow silent, asif we were dumb. The mountains of Cristobal sink behind us, and we arealmost "out of sight of land. " We can see the ridges of the SierraBlanca away to the eastward; but before us, to the south, the eyeencounters no mark or limit. 

We push forward without guide or any object to indicate our course. Weare soon in the midst of bewilderment. A scene of seeming enchantmentsprings up around us. Vast towers of sand, borne up by the whirlblast, rise vertically to the sky. They move to and fro over the plain. Theyare yellow and luminous. The sun glistens among their floatingcrystals. They move slowly, but they are approaching us. 

I behold them with feelings of awe. I have heard of travellers liftedin their whirling vortex, and dashed back again from fearful heights. 

The pack-mule, frightened at the phenomenon, breaks the lasso andscampers away among the ridges. Gode has galloped in pursuit. I amalone. 

Nine or ten gigantic columns now appear, stalking over the plain andcircling gradually around me. There is something unearthly in thesight. They resemble creatures of a phantom world. They seem endowedwith demon life. 

Two of them approach each other. There is a short, ghastly strugglethat ends in their mutual destruction. The sand is precipitated to theearth, and the dust floats off in dun, shapeless masses. 

Several have shut me within a space, and are slowly closing upon me. Mydog howls and barks. The horse cowers with affright, and shiversbetween my thighs, uttering terrified expressions. 

My brain reels. Strange objects appear. The fever is upon me! Theladen currents clash in their wild torsion. I am twisted around andtorn from my saddle. My eyes, mouth, and ears are filled with dust. Sand, stones, and branches strike me spitefully in the face; and I amflung with violence to the earth!

I lay for a moment where I had fallen, half-buried and blind. I wasneither stunned nor hurt; and I began to grope around me, for as yet Icould see nothing. My eyes were full of sand, and pained meexceedingly. Throwing out my arms, I felt for my horse; I called him byname. A low whimper answered me. I staggered towards the spot, andlaid my hands upon him; he was down upon his flank. I seized thebridle, and he sprang up; but I could feel that he was shivering like anaspen. 

I stood by his head for nearly half an hour, rubbing the dust from myeyes; and waiting until the simoom might settle away. At length theatmosphere grew clearer, and I could see the sky; but the sand stilldrifted along the ridges, and I could not distinguish the surface of theplain. There were no signs of Gode. 

I mounted and commenced riding over the plain in search of my comrade. I had no idea of what direction he had taken. 

I made a circuit of a mile or so, still calling his name as I went. Ireceived no reply, and could see no traces upon the ground. I rode foran hour, galloping from ridge to ridge, but still without meeting anysigns of my comrade or the mules. I pulled up in despair. I hadshouted until I was faint and hoarse. I could search no longer. 

I was thirsty, and would drink. O God! my "xuages" are broken! Thepack-mule has carried off the water-skin. 

The crushed calabash still hung upon its thong; but the last drops ithad contained were trickling down the flanks of my horse. I knew that Imight be fifty miles from water!

You cannot understand the fearfulness of this situation. You live in anorthern zone, in a land of pools and streams and limpid springs. Howunlike the denizen of the desert, the voyageur of the prairie sea!Water is his chief care, his ever-present solicitude; water the divinityhe worships. Without water, even in the midst of plenty, plenty offood, he must die. In the wild western desert it is the thirst thatkills. No wonder I was filled with despair. I believed myself to beabout the middle of the Jornada. I knew that I could never reach theother side without water. The yearning had already begun. My throatand tongue felt shrivelled and parched. 

I had lost all knowledge of the course I should take. The mountains, hitherto my guide, seemed to trend in every direction. Their numerousspurs puzzled me. 

I remembered hearing of a spring, the Ojo del Muerto, that was said tolie westward of the trail. Sometimes there was water in the spring. Onother occasions travellers had reached it only to find the fountaindried up, and leave their bones upon its banks. So ran the tales inSocorro. 

I headed my horse westward. I would seek the spring, and, should I failto find it, push on to the river. This was turning out of my course;but I must reach the water and save my life. 

I sat in my saddle, faint and choking, leaving my animal to go at will. I had lost the energy to guide him. 

He went many miles westward, for the sun told me the course. I wassuddenly roused from my stupor. A glad sight was before me. A lake!--alake shining like crystal. Was I certain I saw it? Could it be themirage? No. Its outlines were too sharply defined. It had not thatfilmy, whitish appearance which distinguishes the latter phenomenon. No. It was not the mirage. It was water!

I involuntarily pressed the spur against the side of my horse; but heneeded not that. He had already eyed the water, and sprang forward, inspirited with new energy. The next moment he was in it up to hisflanks. 

I flung myself from the saddle with a plunge. I was about to lift thewater in my concave palms, when the actions of my horse attracted me. Instead of drinking greedily, he stood tossing his head with snorts ofdisappointment. My dog, too, refused to lap, and ran along the shorewhining and howling. 

I knew what this meant; but, with that common obstinacy which refusesall testimony but the evidence of the senses, I lifted some drops in myhand, and applied them to my lips. They were briny and burning. Imight have known this before reaching the lake, for I had ridden througha salt incrustation that surrounded it like a belt of snow. But mybrain was fevered; my reason had left me. 

It was of no use remaining where I was. I climbed back into my saddle, and rode along the shore, over fields of snow-white salt. Here andthere my horse's hoof rang against bleaching bones of animals, theremains of many a victim. Well was this lake named the Laguna delMuerto--the "Lake of Death!"

Reaching its southern point, I again headed westward, in hopes ofstriking the river. 

From this time until a later period, when I found myself in a fardifferent scene, I have no distinct memories. 

I remember dismounting on a high bank. I must have travelledunconsciously for hours before, for the sun was low down on the horizonas I alighted. It was a very high bank--a precipice--and below me I sawa beautiful river sweeping onward through groves of emerald greenness. I thought there were many birds fluttering in the groves, and theirvoices rang in delicious melody. There was fragrance on the air, andthe scene below me seemed an Elysium. I thought that around where Istood all was bleak, and barren, and parched with intolerable heat. Iwas tortured with a slakeless thirst that grew fiercer as I gazed on theflowing water. These were real incidents. All this was true. 

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I must drink. I must to the river. It is cool, sweet water. Oh! Imust drink. What! A horrid cliff! No; I will not go down there. Ican descend more easily here. Who are these forms? Who are you, sir?Ah! it is you, my brave Moro; and you, Alp. Come! come! Follow me!Down; down to the river! Ah! again that accursed cliff! Look at thebeautiful water! It smiles. It ripples on, on, on! Let us drink. No, not yet; we cannot yet. We must go farther. Ugh! Such a height toleap from! But we must drink, one and all. Come, Gode! Come, Moro, old friend! Alp, come on! We shall reach it; we shall drink. Who isTantalus? Ha! ha! Not I; not I! Stand back, fiends! Do not push meover! Back! Back, I say! Oh!

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Part of all this was a reality; part was a dream, a dream that bore someresemblance to the horrors of a first intoxication. 

CHAPTER TWELVE. 

ZOE. 

I lay tracing the figures upon the curtains. They were scenes of theolden time--mailed knights, helmed and mounted, dashing at each otherwith couched lances, or tumbling from their horses, pierced by thespear. Other scenes there were: noble dames, sitting on Flemishpalfreys, and watching the flight of the merlin hawk. There were pagesin waiting, and dogs of curious and extinct breeds held in the leash. Perhaps these never existed except in the dreams of some old-fashionedartist; but my eye followed their strange shapes with a sort ofhalf-idiotic wonder. 

Metallic rods upheld the curtains; rods that shone brightly, and curvedupwards, forming a canopy. My eyes ran along these rods, scanning theirconfiguration, and admiring, as a child admires, the regularity of theircurves. I was not in my own land. These things were strange to me. "Yet, " thought I, "I have seen something like them before, but where?Oh! this I know, with its broad stripes and silken texture; it is aNavajo blanket! Where was I last? In New Mexico? Yes. Now Iremember: the Jornada! but how came I?

"Can I untwist this? It is close woven; it is wool, fine wool. No, Icannot separate a thread from--

"My fingers! how white and thin they are! and my nails, blue, and longas the talons of a bird! I have a beard! I feel it on my chin. Whatgave me a beard? I never wear it; I will shave it off--ha! mymoustache!"

I was wearied, and slept again. 

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Once more my eyes were tracing the figures upon the curtains: theknights and dames, the hounds, hawks, and horses. But my brain hadbecome clearer, and music was flowing into it. I lay silent, andlistened. 

The voice was a female's. It was soft and finely modulated. Someoneplayed upon a stringed instrument. I recognised the tones of theSpanish harp, but the song was French, a song of Normandy; and the wordswere in the language of that romantic land. I wondered at this, for myconsciousness of late events was returning; and I knew that I was farfrom France. 

The light was streaming over my couch; and, turning my face to thefront, I saw that the curtains were drawn aside. 

I was in a large room, oddly but elegantly furnished. Human figureswere before me, seated and standing. 

After looking steadily for a while, my vision became more distinct andreliable; and I saw that there were but three persons in the room, a manand two females. 

I remained silent, not certain but that the scene before me was onlysome new phase of my dream. My eyes wandered from one of the livingfigures to another, without attracting the attention of any of them. 

They were all in different attitudes, and occupied differently. 

Nearest me was a woman of middle age, seated upon a low ottoman. Theharp I had heard was before her, and she continued to play. She musthave been, I thought, when young, a woman of extreme beauty. She wasstill beautiful in a certain sense. The noble features were there, though I could perceive that they had been scathed by more than ordinarysuffering of the mind. 

She was a Frenchwoman: an ethnologist could have told that at a glance. Those lines, the characteristics of her highly gifted race, were easilytraceable. I thought there was a time when that face had witched many aheart with its smiles. There were no smiles on it now, but a deep yetintellectual expression of melancholy. This I perceived, too, in hervoice, in her song, in every note that vibrated from the strings of theinstrument. 

My eye wandered farther. A man of more than middle age stood by thetable, near the centre of the room. His face was turned towards me, andhis nationality was as easily determined as that of the lady. The high, florid cheeks, the broad front, the prominent chin, the small green capwith its long peak and conical crown, the blue spectacles, were allcharacteristics. He was a German. 

His occupation was also characteristic of his nationality. Before himwere strewed over the table, and upon the floor, the objects of hisstudy--plants and shrubs of various species. He was busy with these, classifying and carefully laying them out between the leaves of hisportfolio. It was evident that the old man was a botanist. 

A glance to the right, and the naturalist and his labours were no longerregarded. I was looking upon the loveliest object that ever came beforemy eyes, and my heart bounded within me, as I strained forward in theintensity of its admiration. 

Yet it was not a woman that held my gaze captive, but a child--a girl--amaid--standing upon the threshold of womanhood, ready to cross it at thefirst summons of Love!

My eyes, delighted, revelled along the graceful curves that outlined thebeautiful being before me. I thought I had seen the face somewhere. Ihad, but a moment before, while looking upon that of the elder lady. They were the same face--using a figure of speech--the type transmittedfrom mother to daughter: the same high front and facial angle, the sameoutline of the nose, straight as a ray of light, with the delicatespiral-like curve of the nostril which meets you in the Greek medallion. Their hair, too, was alike in colour, golden; though, in that of themother, the gold showed an enamel of silver. 

I will desist and spare details, which to you may be of little interest. In return, do me the favour to believe, that the being who impressed methen and for ever was beautiful, was lovely. 

"Ah! it wod be ver moch kindness if madame and ma'm'selle wod play laMarseillaise, la grande Marseillaise. What say mein liebe fraulein!"

"Zoe, Zoe! take thy bandolin. Yes, doctor, we will play it for you withpleasure. You like the music. So do we. Come, Zoe!"

The young girl, who, up to this time, had been watching intently thelabours of the naturalist, glided to a remote corner of the room, andtaking up an instrument resembling the guitar, returned and seatedherself by her mother. The bandolin was soon placed in concert with theharp, and the strings of both vibrated to the thrilling notes of theMarseillaise. 

There was something exceedingly graceful in the performance. Theinstrumentation, as I thought, was perfect; and the voices of theplayers accompanied it in a sweet and spirited harmony. As I gazed uponthe girl Zoe, her features animated by the thrilling thoughts of theanthem, her whole countenance radiant with light, she seemed someimmortal being--a young goddess of liberty calling her children "toarms!"

The botanist had desisted from his labours, and stood listening withdelighted attention. At each return of the thrilling invocation, "Auxarmes, citoyens!" the old man snapped his fingers, and beat the floorwith his feet, marking the time of the music. He was filled with thesame spirit which at that time, over all Europe, was gathering to itscrisis. 

"Where am I? French faces, French music, French voices, and theconversation in French!" for the botanist addressed the females in thatlanguage, though with a strong Rhenish patois, that confirmed my firstimpressions of his nationality. "Where am I?"

My eye ran around the room in search of an answer. I could recognisethe furniture: the cross-legged Campeachy chairs, a rebozo, thepalm-leaf petate. "Ha, Alp!"

The dog lay stretched along the mattress near my couch, and sleeping. 

"Alp! Alp!"

"Oh, mamma! mamma! ecoutez! the stranger calls. "

The dog sprang to his feet, and throwing his fore paws upon the bed, stretched his nose towards me with a joyous whimpering. I reached outmy hand and patted him, at the same time giving utterance to someexpressions of endearment. 

"Oh, mamma! mamma! he knows him. Voila. "

The lady rose hastily, and approached the bed. The German seized me bythe wrist, pushing back the Saint Bernard, which was bounding to springupward. 

"Mon Dieu! he is well. His eyes, doctor. How changed!"

"Ya, ya; moch better; ver moch better. Hush! away, tog! Keep away, mine goot tog!"

"Who? where? Tell me, where am I? Who are you?"

"Do not fear! we are friends: you have been ill!"

"Yes, yes! we are friends: you have been ill, sir. Do not fear us; wewill watch you. This is the good doctor. This is mamma, and I am--"

"An angel from heaven, beautiful Zoe!"

The child looked at me with an expression of wonder, and blushed as shesaid--

"Hear, mamma! He knows my name!"

It was the first compliment she had ever received from the lips of love. 

"It is goot, madame! he is ver moch relieft; he ver soon get over now. Keep away, mine goot Alp! Your master he get well: goot tog, down!"

"Perhaps, doctor, we should leave him. The noise--"

"No, no! if you please, stay with me. The music; will you play again?"

"Yes, the music is ver goot; ver goot for te pain. "

"Oh, mamma! let us play, then. "

Both mother and daughter took up their instruments, and again commencedplaying. 

I listened to the sweet strains, watching the fair musicians a longwhile. My eyes at length became heavy, and the realities before mechanged into the soft outlines of a dream. 

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My dream was broken by the abrupt cessation of the music. I thought Iheard, through my sleep, the opening of a door. When I looked to thespot lately occupied by the musicians, I saw that they were gone. Thebandolin had been thrown down upon the ottoman, where it lay, but "she"was not there. 

I could not, from my position, see the whole of the apartment; but Iknew that someone had entered at the outer door, I heard expressions ofwelcome and endearment, a rustling of dresses, the words "Papa!"

"My little Zoe"; the latter uttered in the voice of a man. Thenfollowed some explanations in a lower tone, which I could not hear. 

A few minutes elapsed, and I lay silent and listening. Presently therewere footsteps in the hall. A boot, with its jingling rowels, struckupon the tiled floor. The footsteps entered the room, and approachedthe bed. I started, as I looked up. The Scalp-hunter was before me!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN. 

SEGUIN. 

"You are better; you will soon be well again. I am glad to see that yourecover. "

He said this without offering his hand. 

"I am indebted to you for my life. Is it not so?"

It is strange that I felt convinced of this the moment that I set myeyes upon the man. I think such an idea crossed my mind before, afterawaking from my long dream. Had I encountered him in my struggles forwater, or had I dreamed it?

"Oh yes!" answered he, with a smile, "but you will remember that I hadsomething to do with your being exposed to the risk of losing it. "

"Will you take this hand? Will you forgive me?"

After all, there is something selfish even in gratitude. How strangelyhad it changed my feelings towards this man! I was begging the handwhich, but a few days before, in the pride of my morality, I had spurnedfrom me as a loathsome thing. 

But there were other thoughts that influenced me. The man before me wasthe husband of the lady; was the father of Zoe. His character, hishorrid calling, were forgotten; and the next moment our hands werejoined in the embrace of friendship. 

"I have nothing to forgive. I honour the sentiment that induced you toact as you did. This declaration may seem strange to you. From whatyou knew of me, you acted rightly; but there may be a time, sir, whenyou will know me better: when the deeds which you abhor may seem notonly pardonable, but justifiable. Enough of this at present. Theobject of my being now at your bedside is to request that what you doknow of me be not uttered here. "

His voice sank to a whisper as he said this, pointing at the same timetowards the door of the room. 

"But how, " I asked, wishing to draw his attention from this unpleasanttheme, "how came I into this house? It is yours, I perceive. How cameI here? Where did you find me?"

"In no very safe position, " answered he, with a smile. "I can scarcelyclaim the merit of saving you. Your noble horse you may thank forthat. "

"Ah, my horse! my brave Moro! I have lost him. "

"Your horse is standing at the maize-trough, not ten paces from whereyou lie. I think you will find him in somewhat better condition thanwhen you last saw him. Your mules are without. Your packs are safe. You will find them here, " and he pointed to the foot of the bed. 

"And--"

"Gode you would ask for, " said he, interrupting me. "Do not be uneasyon his account. He, too, is in safety. He is absent just now, but willsoon return. "

"How can I thank you? This is good news indeed. My brave Moro! and Alphere! But how? you say my horse saved me. He has done so before: howcan this be?"

"Simply thus: we found you many miles from this place, on a cliff thatoverlooks the Del Norte. You were hanging over on your lasso, that by alucky accident had become entangled around your body. One end of it wasknotted to the bit-ring, and the noble animal, thrown back upon hishaunches, sustained your weight upon his neck!"

"Noble Moro! what a terrible situation!"

"Ay, you may say that! Had you fallen from it, you would have passedthrough a thousand feet of air before striking the rocks below. It wasindeed a fearful situation. "

"I must have staggered over in my search for water. "

"In your delirium you walked over. You would have done so a second timehad we not prevented you. When we drew you up on the cliff, youstruggled hard to get back. You saw the water below, but not theprecipice. Thirst is a terrible thing--an insanity of itself. "

"I remember something of all this. I thought it had been a dream. "

"Do not trouble your brain with these things. The doctor hereadmonishes me to leave you. I have an object, as I have said, " (here asad expression passed over the countenance of the speaker), "else Ishould not have paid you this visit. I have not many moments to spare. To-night I must be far hence. In a few days I shall return. Meanwhile, compose yourself, and get well. The doctor here will see that you wantfor nothing. My wife and daughter will nurse you. "

"Thanks! thanks!"

"You will do well to remain where you are until your friends return fromChihuahua. They must pass not far from this place, and I will warn youwhen they are near. You are a student. There are books here indifferent languages. Amuse yourself. They will give you music. Monsieur, adieu!"

"Stay, sir, one moment! You seem to have taken a strange fancy to myhorse?"

"Ah! monsieur, it was no fancy; but I will explain that at some othertime. Perhaps the necessity no longer exists. "

"Take him, if you will. Another will serve my purpose. "

"No, monsieur. Do you think I could rob you of what you esteem sohighly, and with such just reason, too? No, no! Keep the good Moro. Ido not wonder at your attachment to the noble brute. "

"You say that you have a long journey to-night. Then take him for thetime. "

"That offer I will freely accept, for indeed my own horse is somewhatjaded. I have been two days in the saddle. Well, adieu!"

Seguin pressed my hand and walked away. I heard the "chinck, chinck" ofhis spurs as he crossed the apartment, and the next moment the doorclosed behind him. 

I was alone, and lay listening to every sound that reached me fromwithout. In about half an hour after he had left me, I heard thehoof-strokes of a horse, and saw the shadow of a horseman passingoutside the window. He had departed on his journey, doubtless on theperformance of some red duty connected with his fearful avocation!

I lay for a while harassed in mind, thinking of this strange man. Thensweet voices interrupted my meditations; before me appeared lovelyfaces, and the Scalp-hunter was forgotten. 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN. 

LOVE. 

I would compress the history of the ten days following into as manywords. I would not weary you with the details of my love--a love thatin the space of a few hours became a passion deep and ardent. 

I was young at the time; at just such an age as to be impressed by theromantic incidents that surrounded me, and had thrown this beautifulbeing in my way; at that age when the heart, unguarded by coldcalculations of the future, yields unresistingly to the electricalimpressions of love. I say electrical. I believe that at this age thesympathies that spring up between heart and heart are purely of thisnature. 

At a later period of life that power is dissipated and divided. Reasonrules it. We become conscious of the capability of transferring ouraffections, for they have already broken faith; and we lose that sweetconfidence that comforted the loves of our youth. We are eitherimperious or jealous, as the advantages appear in our favour or againstus. A gross alloy enters into the love of our middle life, sadlydetracting from the divinity of its character. 

I might call that which I then felt my first real passion. I thought Ihad loved before, but no, it was only a dream; the dream of the villageschoolboy, who saw heaven in the bright eyes of his coy class-mate; orperhaps at the family picnic, in some romantic dell, had tasted the rosycheek of his pretty cousin. 

I grew strong, and with a rapidity that surprised the skilful man ofherbs. Love fed and nourished the fire of life. The will often effectsthe deed, and say as you may, volition has its power upon the body. Thewish to be well, to live, an object to live for, are often the speediestrestoratives. They were mine. 

I grew stronger, and rose from my couch. A glance at the mirror told methat my colour was returning. 

Instinct teaches the bird while wooing his mate to plume his pinions totheir highest gloss; and a similar feeling now rendered me solicitousabout my toilet. My portmanteau was ransacked, my razors were drawnforth, the beard disappeared from my chin, and my moustache was trimmedto its wonted dimensions. 

I confess all this. The world had told me I was not ill-looking, and Ibelieved what it said. I am mortal in my vanities. Are not you?

There was a guitar in the house. I had learnt in my college days totouch the strings, and its music delighted both Zoe and her mother. Isang to them the songs of my own land--songs of love; and with athrobbing heart watched whether the burning words produced anyimpression upon her. More than once I have laid aside the instrumentwith feelings of disappointment. From day to day, strange reflectionspassed through my mind. Could it be that she was too young tounderstand the import of the word love? too young to be inspired with apassion? She was but twelve years of age, but then she was the child ofa sunny clime; and I had often seen at that age, under the warm sky ofMexico, the wedded bride, the fond mother. 

Day after day we were together alone. The botanist was busy with hisstudies, and the silent mother occupied with the duties of herhousehold. 

Love is not blind. It may be to all the world beside; but to its ownobject it is as watchful as Argus. 

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I was skilled in the use of the crayon, and I amused my companion bysketches upon scraps of paper and the blank leaves of her music. Manyof these were the figures of females, in different attitudes andcostumes. In one respect they resembled each other: their faces werealike. 

The child, without divining the cause, had noticed this peculiarity inthe drawings. 

"Why is it?" she asked one day, as we sat together. "These ladies areall in different costumes, of different nations; are they not? and yetthere is a resemblance in their faces! They have all the same features;indeed, exactly the same, I think. "

"It is your face, Zoe; I can sketch no other. "

She raised her large eyes, and bent them upon me with an expression ofinnocent wonder. Was she blushing? No!

"Is that like me?"

"It is, as nearly as I can make it. "

"And why do you not sketch other faces?"

"Why! because I--Zoe, I fear you would not understand me. "

"Oh, Enrique; do you think me so bad a scholar? Do I not understand allthat you tell me of the far countries where you have been? Surely I maycomprehend this as well. "

"I will tell you, then, Zoe. "

I bent forward, with a burning heart and trembling voice. 

"It is because your face is ever before me; I can paint no other. Itis, that--I love you, Zoe!"

"Oh! is that the reason? And when you love one, her face is alwaysbefore you, whether she herself be present or no? Is it not so?"

"It is so, " I replied, with a painful feeling of disappointment. 

"And is that love, Enrique?"

"It is. "

"Then must I love you; for, wherever I may be, I can see your face: howplainly before me! If I could use this pencil as you do, I am sure Icould paint it, though you were not near me! What then? Do you think Ilove you, Enrique?"

No pen could trace my feelings at that moment. We were seated; and thesheet on which were the sketches was held jointly between us. My handwandered over its surface, until the unresisting fingers of my companionwere clasped in mine. A wilder emotion followed the electric touch: thepaper fell upon the floor; and with a proud but trembling heart I drewthe yielding form to mine!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN. 

LIGHT AND SHADE. 

The house we inhabited stood in a quadrangular inclosure that slopeddown to the banks of the river, the Del Norte. This inclosure was agarden or shrubbery, guarded on all sides by high, thick walls of adobe. Along the summit of these walls had been planted rows of the cactus, that threw out huge, thorny limbs, forming an impassablechevaux-de-frise. There was but one entrance to the house and garden, through a strong wicket gate, which I had noticed was always shut andbarred. I had no desire to go abroad. The garden, a large one, hitherto had formed the limit of my walk; and through this I oftenrambled with Zoe and her mother, but oftener with Zoe alone. 

There were many objects of interest about the place. It was a ruin; andthe house itself bore evidences of better times. It was a largebuilding in the Moro-Spanish style, with flat roof (azotea), and notchedparapet running along the front. Here and there the little stoneturrets of this parapet had fallen off, showing evidence of neglect anddecay. 

The walls of the garden impinged upon the river, and there ended; forthe bank was steep and vertical, and the deep, still water that ranunder it formed a sufficient protection on that side. 

A thick grove of cotton-woods fringed the bank of the river, and undertheir shade had been erected a number of seats of japanned mason-work, in a style peculiar to Spanish countries. There were steps cut in theface of the bank, overhung with drooping shrubs, and leading to thewater's edge. I had noticed a small skiff moored under the willows, where these steps went down to the water. 

From this point only could you see beyond the limits of the inclosure. The view was magnificent, and commanded the windings of the Del Nortefor a distance of miles. 

Evening after evening we sought the grove of cotton-woods, and, seatedupon one of the benches, together watched the glowing sunset. At thistime of the day we were ever alone, I and my little companion. 

One evening, as usual, we sat under the solemn shadow of the grove. Wehad brought with us the guitar and bandolin; but, after a few notes hadbeen struck, the music was forgotten, and the instruments lay upon thegrass at our feet. We loved to listen to the music of our own voices. We preferred the utterance of our own thoughts to the sentiments of anysong, however sweet. There was music enough around us; the hum of thewild bee as it bade farewell to the closing corolla; the whoop of thegruya in the distant sedge; and the soft cooing of the doves as they satin pairs upon the adjacent branches, like us whispering their mutualloves. 

Autumn had now painted the woods, and the frondage was of every hue. The shadows of the tall trees dappled the surface of the water, as thestream rolled silently on. The sun was far down, and the spire of ElPaso gleamed like a golden star under the parting kiss of his beams. Our eyes wandered, and rested upon the glittering vane. 

"The church!" half soliloquised my companion; "I hardly know what it islike, it is so long since I saw it. "

"How long?"

"Oh, many, many years; I was very young then. "

"And you have not been beyond these walls since then?"

"Oh yes! Papa has taken us down the river in the boat, mamma andmyself, often, but not lately. "

"And have you no wish to go abroad through these gay woods?"

"I do not desire it; I am contented here. "

"And will you always be contented here?"

"And why not, Enrique? When you are near me, why should I not behappy?"

"But when--"

A dark shadow seemed to cross her thoughts. Benighted with love, shehad never reflected upon the probability of my leaving her, nor indeedhad I. Her cheeks became suddenly pale; and I could see the agonygathering in her eyes, as she fixed them upon me. But the words wereout--

"When I must leave you?"

She threw herself on my breast, with a short, sharp scream, as thoughshe had been stung to the heart, and in an impassioned voice criedaloud--

"Oh! my God, my God! leave me! leave me! Oh! you will not leave me?You who have taught me to love! Oh! Enrique, why did you tell me thatyou loved me? Why did you teach me to love?"

"Zoe!"

"Enrique, Enrique! say you will not leave me!"

"Never! Zoe! I swear it; never, never!" I fancied at this moment Iheard the stroke of an oar; but the wild tumult of my feelings preventedme from rising to look over the bank. I was raising my head when anobject, appearing above the bank, caught my eye. It was a blacksombrero with its golden band. I knew the wearer at a glance: Seguin!In a moment, he was beside us. 

"Papa!" exclaimed Zoe, rising up and reaching forward to embrace him. The father put her to one side, at the same time tightly grasping herhand in his. For a moment he remained silent, bending his eyes upon mewith an expression I cannot depict. There was in it a mixture ofreproach, sorrow, and indignation. I had risen to confront him, but Iquailed under that singular glance, and stood abashed and silent. 

"And this is the way you have thanked me for saving your life? A bravereturn, good sir; what think you?"

I made no reply. 

"Sir!" continued he, in a voice trembling with emotion, "you have deeplywronged me. "

"I know it not; I have not wronged you. "

"What call you this? Trifling with my child!"

"Trifling!" I exclaimed, roused to boldness by the accusation. 

"Ay, trifling! Have you not won her affections?"

"I won them fairly. "

"Pshaw, sir! This is a child, not a woman. Won them fairly! What canshe know of love?"

"Papa! I do know love. I have felt it for many days. Do not be angrywith Enrique, for I love him; oh, papa! in my heart I love him!"

He turned to her with a look of astonishment. 

"Hear this!" he exclaimed. "Oh, heavens! my child, my child!"

His voice stung me, for it was full of sorrow. 

"Listen, sir!" I cried, placing myself directly before him. "I havewon the affections of your daughter. I have given mine in return. I amher equal in rank, as she is mine. What crime, then, have I committed?Wherein have I wronged you?"

He looked at me for some moments without making any reply. 

"You would marry her, then?" he said, at length, with an evident changein his manner. 

"Had I permitted our love thus far, without that intention, I shouldhave merited your reproaches. I should have been `trifling, ' as youhave said. "

"Marry me!" exclaimed Zoe, with a look of bewilderment. 

"Listen! Poor child! she knows not the meaning of the word!"

"Ay, lovely Zoe! I will; else my heart, like yours, shall be wreckedfor ever! Oh, sir!"

"Come, sir, enough of this. You have won her from herself; you have yetto win her from me. I will sound the depth of your affection. I willput you to the proof. "

"Put me to any proof!"

"We shall see; come! let us in. Here, Zoe!"

And, taking her by the hand, he led her towards the house. I followedclose behind. 

As we passed through a clump of wild orange trees, the path narrowed;and the father, letting go her hand, walked on ahead. Zoe was betweenus; and as we reached the middle of the grove, she turned suddenly, andlaying her hand upon mine, whispered in a trembling voice, "Enrique, tell me, what is `to marry'?"

"Dearest Zoe! not now: it is too difficult to explain; another time, I--"

"Come, Zoe! your hand, child!"

"Papa, I am coming!"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN. 

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

I was alone with my host in the apartment I had hitherto occupied. Thefemales had retired to another part of the house; and I noticed thatSeguin, on entering, had looked to the door, turning the bolt. 

What terrible proof was he going to exact of my faith, of my love? Washe about to take my life, or bind me by some fearful oath, this man ofcruel deeds? Dark suspicions shot across my mind, and I sat silent, butnot without emotions of fear. 

A bottle of wine was placed between us, and Seguin, pouring out twoglasses, asked me to drink. This courtesy assured me. "But how if thewine be poi--?" He swallowed his own glass before the thought hadfairly shaped itself. 

"I am wronging him, " thought I. "This man, with all, is incapable of anact of treachery like that. "

I drank up the wine. It made me feel more composed and tranquil. 

After a moment's silence he opened the conversation with the abruptinterrogatory, "What do you know of me?"

"Your name and calling; nothing more. "

"More than is guessed at here;" and he pointed significantly to thedoor. "Who told you thus much of me?"

"A friend, whom you saw at Santa Fe. "

"Ah! Saint Vrain; a brave, bold man. I met him once in Chihuahua. Didhe tell you no more of me than this?"

"No. He promised to enter into particulars concerning you, but thesubject was forgotten, the caravan moved on, and we were separated. "

"You heard, then, that I was Seguin the Scalp-hunter? That I wasemployed by the citizens of El Paso to hunt the Apache and Navajo, andthat I was paid a stated sum for every Indian scalp I could hang upontheir gates? You heard all this?"

"I did. "

"It is true. "

I remained silent. 

"Now, sir, " he continued, after a pause, "would you marry my daughter, the child of a wholesale murderer?"

"Your crimes are not hers. She is innocent even of the knowledge ofthem, as you have said. You may be a demon; she is an angel. "

There was a sad expression on his countenance as I said this. 

"Crimes! demon!" he muttered, half in soliloquy. "Ay, you may wellthink this; so judges the world. You have heard the stories of themountain men in all their red exaggeration. You have heard that, duringa treaty, I invited a village of the Apaches to a banquet, and poisonedthe viands--poisoned the guests, man, woman, and child, and then scalpedthem! You have heard that I induced to pull upon the drag rope of acannon two hundred savages, who know not its use; and then fired thepiece, loaded with grape, mowing down the row of unsuspecting wretches!These, and other inhuman acts, you have no doubt heard of?"

"It is true. I have heard these stories among the mountain hunters; butI knew not whether to believe them. "

"Monsieur, they are false; all false and unfounded. "

"I am glad to hear you say this. I could not now believe you capable ofsuch barbarities. "

"And yet, if they were true in all their horrid details, they would fallfar short of the cruelties that have been dealt out by the savage foe tothe inhabitants of this defenceless frontier. If you knew the historyof this land for the last ten years; its massacres and its murders; itstears and its burnings; its spoliations; whole provinces depopulated;villages given to the flames; men butchered on their own hearths; women, beautiful women, carried into captivity by the desert robber! Oh, God!and I too have shared wrongs that will acquit me in your eyes, perhapsin the eyes of Heaven!"

The speaker buried his face in his hands, and leant forward upon thetable. He was evidently suffering from some painful recollection. After a moment he resumed--"I would have you listen to a short historyof my life. " I signified my assent; and after filling and drinkinganother glass of wine, he proceeded. 

"I am not a Frenchman, as men suppose. I am a Creole, a native of NewOrleans. My parents were refugees from Saint Domingo, where, after theblack revolution, the bulk of their fortune was confiscated by thebloody Christophe. 

"I was educated for a civil engineer; and, in this capacity, I wasbrought out to the mines of Mexico, by the owner of one of them, whoknew my father. I was young at the time, and I spent several yearsemployed in the mines of Zacatecas and San Luis Potosi. 

"I had saved some money out of my pay, and I began to think of openingupon my own account. 

"Rumours had long been current that rich veins of gold existed upon theGila and its tributaries. The washings had been seen and gathered inthese rivers; and the mother of gold, the milky quartz rock, cropped outeverywhere in the desert mountains of this wild region. 

"I started for this country with a select party; and, after traversingit for weeks, in the Mimbres mountains, near the head waters of theGila, I found the precious ore in its bed. I established a mine, and infive years was a rich man. 

"I remembered the companion of my youth, the gentle, the beautifulcousin who had shared my confidence, and inspired me with my firstpassion. With me it was first and last; it was not, as is often thecase under similar circumstances, a transient thing. Through all mywanderings I had remembered and loved her. Had she been as true to me?

"I determined to assure myself; and leaving my affairs in the hands ofmy mayoral, I set out for my native city. 

"Adele had been true; and I returned, bringing her with me. 

"I built a house in Valverde, the nearest inhabited district to my mine. 

"Valverde was then a thriving place; it is now a ruin, which you mayhave seen in your journey down. 

"In this place we lived for years, in the enjoyment of wealth andhappiness. I look back upon those days as so many ages of bliss. Ourlove was mutual and ardent; and we were blessed with two children, bothgirls. The youngest resembled her mother; the other, I have been told, was more like myself. We doted, I fear, too much on these pledges. Wewere too happy in their possession. 

"At this time a new Governor was sent to Santa Fe, a man who, by hiswantonness and tyranny, has since then ruined the province. There hasbeen no act too vile, no crime too dark, for this human monster. 

"He offered fair enough at first, and was feasted in the houses of thericos through the valley. As I was classed among these, I was honouredwith his visits, and frequently. He resided principally at Albuquerque;and grand fetes were given at his palace, to which my wife and I wereinvited as special guests. He in return often came to our house inValverde, under pretence of visiting the different parts of theprovince. 

"I discovered, at length, that his visits were solely intended for mywife, to whom he had paid some flattering attentions. 

"I will not dwell on the beauty of Adele, at this time. You may imaginethat for yourself; and, monsieur, you may assist your imagination byallowing it to dwell on those graces you appear to have discovered inher daughter, for the little Zoe is a type of what her mother was. 

"At the time I speak of she was still in the bloom of her beauty. Thefame of that beauty was on every tongue, and had piqued the vanity ofthe wanton tyrant. For this reason I became the object of his friendlyassiduities. 

"I had divined this; but confiding in the virtue of my wife, I took nonotice of his conduct. No overt act of insult as yet claimed myattention. 

"Returning on one occasion from a long absence at the mines, Adeleinformed me what, through delicacy, she had hitherto concealed--ofinsults received from his excellency at various times, but particularlyin a visit he had paid her during my absence. 

"This was enough for Creole blood. I repaired to Albuquerque; and onthe public plaza, in presence of the multitude, I chastised theinsulter. 

"I was seized and thrown into a prison, where I lay for several weeks. When I was freed, and sought my home again, it was plundered anddesolate. The wild Navajo had been there; my household gods werescattered and broken, and my child, oh, God! my little Adele, wascarried captive to the mountains!"

"And your wife? your other child?" I inquired, eager to know the rest. 

"They had escaped. In the terrible conflict--for my poor peons battledbravely--my wife, with Zoe in her arms, had rushed out and hidden in acave that was in the garden. I found them in the ranche of a vaquero inthe woods, whither they had wandered. "

"And your daughter Adele--have you heard aught of her since?"

"Yes, yes, I will come to that in a moment. 

"My mine, at the same time, was plundered and destroyed; many of theworkmen were slaughtered before they could escape; and the work itself, with my fortune, became a ruin. 

"With some of the miners, who had fled, and others of Valverde, who, like me, had suffered, I organised a band, and followed the savage foe;but our pursuit was vain, and we turned back, many of us broken inhealth and heart. 

"Oh, monsieur, you cannot know what it is to have thus lost a favouritechild! you cannot understand the agony of the bereaved father!"

The speaker pressed his head between his hands, and remained for amoment silent. His countenance bore the indications of heartrendingsorrow. 

"My story will soon be told--up to the present time. Who knows the end?

"For years I hung upon the frontiers of the Indian country, hunting formy child. I was aided by a small band, most of them unfortunates likemyself, who had lost wife or daughter in a similar manner. But ourmeans became exhausted, and despair wore us out. The sympathies of mycompanions grew old and cold. One after another gave up. The Governorof New Mexico offered us no aid. On the contrary, it was suspectedthen--it is now known--that the Governor himself was in secret leaguewith the Navajo chiefs. He had engaged to leave them unmolested; whilethey, on their side, promised to plunder only his enemies!

"On learning this terrible secret, I saw the hand that had dealt me theblow. Stung by the disgrace I had put upon him, as well as by my wife'sscorn, the villain was not slow to avenge himself. 

"Since then his life has been twice in my power, but the taking of itwould, most probably, have forfeited my own, and I had objects for whichto live. I may yet find a reckoning day for him. 

"I have said that my band melted away. Sick at heart, and conscious ofdanger in New Mexico, I left the province, and crossed the Jornada to ElPaso. Here for a while I lived, grieving for my lost child. 

"I was not long inactive. The frequent forays made by the Apaches intoSonora and Chihuahua had rendered the government more energetic in thedefence of the frontier. The presidios were repaired and garrisonedwith more efficient troops, and a band of rangers organised, whose paywas proportioned to the number of scalps they might send back to thesettlements. 

"I was offered the command of this strange guerilla; and in the hopethat I might yet recover my child, I accepted it--I became ascalp-hunter. 

"It was a terrible commission; and had revenge alone been my object, itwould long since have been gratified. Many a deed of blood have weenacted; many a scene of retaliatory vengeance have we passed through. 

"I knew that my captive daughter was in the hands of the Navajoes. Ihad heard so at various times from prisoners whom I had taken; but I wasalways crippled for want of strength in men and means. Revolution afterrevolution kept the states in poverty and civil warfare, and ourinterests were neglected or forgotten. With all my exertions, I couldnever raise a force sufficient to penetrate that desert country north ofthe Gila, in which lie the towns of the savage Navajoes. "

"And you think--"

"Patience! I shall soon finish. My band is now stronger than ever. Ihave received certain information, by one just escaped from a captivityamong the Navajoes, that the warriors of both tribes are about toproceed southward. They are mustering all their strength, with theintention of making a grand foray; even, as we have heard, to the gatesof Durango. It is my design, then, to enter their country while theyare absent, and search for my daughter. "

"And you think she still lives?"

"I know it. The same man who brought me this news, and who, poorfellow, has left his scalp and ears behind him, saw her often. She isgrown up, and is, he says, a sort of queen among them, possessed ofstrange powers and privileges. Yes, she still lives; and if it be myfortune to recover her, then will this tragic scene be at an end. Iwill go far hence. "

I had listened with deep attention to the strange recital. All thedisgust with which my previous knowledge of this man's character hadinspired me vanished from my mind, and I felt for him compassion--ay, admiration. He had suffered much. Suffering atones for crime, and inmy sight he was justified. Perhaps I was too lenient in my judgment. It was natural I should be so. 

When the revelation was ended, I was filled with emotions of pleasure. I felt a vivid joy to know that she was not the offspring of the demon Ihad deemed him. 

He seemed to divine my thoughts; for there was a smile of satisfaction, I might say triumph, on his countenance, as he leaned across the tableto refill the wine. 

"Monsieur, my story must have wearied you. Drink!"

There was a moment's silence as we emptied the glasses. 

"And now, sir, you know the father of your betrothed, at least somewhatbetter than before. Are you still in the mind to marry her?"

"Oh, sir! she is now, more than ever, to me a sacred object. "

"But you must win her, as I have said, from me. "

"Then, sir, tell me how. I am ready for any sacrifice that may bewithin my power to make. "

"You must help me to recover her sister. "

"Willingly. "

"You must go with me to the desert. "

"I will. "

"Enough. We start to-morrow. " And he rose, and began to pace the room. 

"At an early hour?" I inquired, half fearing that I was about to bedenied an interview with her whom I now more than ever longed toembrace. 

"By daybreak, " he replied, not seeming to heed my anxious manner. 

"I must look to my horse and arms, " said I, rising, and going towardsthe door, in hopes of meeting her without. 

"They have been attended to; Gode is there. Come, boy! She is not inthe hall. Stay where you are. I will get the arms you want. Adele!Zoe! Oh, doctor, you are returned with your weeds! It is well. Wejourney to-morrow. Adele, some coffee, love! and then let us have somemusic. Your guest leaves you to-morrow. "

The bright form rushed between us with a scream. 

"No, no, no, no!" she exclaimed, turning from one to the other, with thewild appeal of a passionate heart. 

"Come, little dove!" said the father, taking her by the hands; "do notbe so easily fluttered. It is but for a short time. He will returnagain. "

"How long, papa? How long, Enrique?"

"But a very short while. It will be longer to me than to you, Zoe. "

"Oh! no, no; an hour will be a long time. How many hours do you think, Enrique?"

"Oh! we shall be gone days, I fear. "

"Days! Oh, papa! Oh, Enrique! Days!"

"Come, little chit; they will soon pass. Go! Help your mamma to makethe coffee. "

"Oh, papa! Days; long days. They will not soon pass when I am alone. "

"But you will not be alone. Your mamma will be with you. "

"Ah!"

And with a sigh, and an air of abstraction, she departed to obey thecommand of her father. As she passed out at the door, she again sighedaudibly. 

The doctor was a silent and wondering spectator of this last scene; andas her figure vanished into the hall, I could hear him muttering tohimself--

"Oh ja! Poor leetle fraulein! I thought as mosh. "

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. 

UP THE DEL NORTE. 

I will not distress you with a parting scene. We were in our saddlesbefore the stars had died out, and riding along the sandy road. 

At a short distance from the house the path angled, striking into thick, heavy timber. Here I checked my horse, allowing my companions to pass, and, standing in the stirrup, looked back. My eyes wandered along theold grey walls, and sought the azotea. Upon the very edge of theparapet, outlined against the pale light of the aurora, was the object Ilooked for. I could not distinguish the features, but I easilyrecognised the oval curvings of the figure, cut like a dark medallionagainst the sky. 

She was standing near one of the yucca palm trees that grew up from theazotea. Her hand rested upon its trunk, and she bent forward, strainingher gaze into the darkness below. Perhaps she saw the waving of akerchief; perhaps she heard her name, and echoed the parting prayer thatwas sent back to her on the still breath of the morning. If so, hervoice was drowned by the tread of my chafing horse, that, wheelingsuddenly, bore me off into the sombre shadows of the forest. 

I rode forward, turning at intervals to catch a glimpse of those lovelyoutlines, but from no other point was the house visible. It lay buriedin the dark, majestic woods. I could only see the long bayonets of thepicturesque palmillas; and our road now descending among hills, thesetoo were soon hidden from my view. 

Dropping the bridle, and leaving my horse to go at will, I fell into atrain of thoughts at once pleasant and painful. 

I knew that I had inspired this young creature with a passion deep andardent as my own, perhaps more vital; for my heart had passed throughother affections, while hers had never throbbed with any save thesubdued solicitudes of a graceful childhood. She had never knownemotion. Love was her first strong feeling, her first passion. Wouldit not, thus enthroned, reign over all other thoughts in her heart'skingdom? She, too, so formed for love; so like its mythic goddess!

These reflections were pleasant. But the picture darkened as I turnedfrom looking back for the last time, and something whispered me, somedemon it was, "You may never see her more!"

The suggestion, even in this hypothetical form, was enough to fill mymind with dark forebodings, and I began to cast my thoughts upon thefuture. I was going upon no party of pleasure, from which I mightreturn at a fixed hour. Dangers were before me, the dangers of thedesert; and I knew that these were of no ordinary character. In ourplans of the previous night, Seguin had not concealed the perils of ourexpedition. These he had detailed before exacting my final promise toaccompany him. Weeks before, I would not have regarded them--they wouldonly have lured me on to meet them; now my feelings were different, forI believed that in my life there was another's. What, then, if thedemon had whispered truly? I might never see her more! It was apainful thought; and I rode on, bent in the saddle, under the influenceof its bitterness. 

But I was once more upon the back of my favourite Moro, who seemed to"know his rider"; and as his elastic body heaved beneath me, my spiritanswered his, and began to resume its wonted buoyancy. 

After a while I took up the reins, and shortening them in my hands, spurred on after my companions. Our road lay up the river, crossing theshallow ford at intervals, and winding through the bottom-lands, thatwere heavily timbered. The path was difficult on account of the thickunderwood; and although the trees had once been blazed for a road, therewere no signs of late travel upon it, with the exception of a fewsolitary horse-tracks. The country appeared wild and uninhabited. Thiswas evident from the frequency with which deer and antelope swept acrossour path, or sprang out of the underwood close to our horses' heads. Here and there our path trended away from the river, crossing itsnumerous loops. Several times we passed large tracts where the heavytimber had been felled, and clearings had existed. But this must havebeen long ago, for the land that had been furrowed by the plough was nowcovered with tangled and almost impenetrable thickets. A few broken anddecaying logs, or crumbling walls of the adobe were all that remained toattest where the settlers' rancho had stood. 

We passed a ruined church with its old turrets dropping by piecemeal. Piles of adobe lay around covering the ground for acres. A thrivingvillage had stood there. Where was it now? Where were the busygossips? A wild-cat sprang over the briar-laced walls, and made offinto the forest. An owl flew sluggishly up from the crumbling cupola, and hovered around our heads, uttering its doleful "woo-hoo-a, " thatrendered the desolation of the scene more impressive. As we rodethrough the ruin, a dead stillness surrounded us, broken only by thehooting of the night-bird, and the "cranch-cranch" of our horses' feetupon the fragments of pottery that covered the deserted streets. 

But where were they who had once made these walls echo with theirvoices? Who had knelt under the sacred shadow of that once hallowedpile? They were gone; but where? and when? and why?

I put these questions to Seguin, and was answered thus briefly--

"The Indians. "

The savage it was, with his red spear and scalping-knife, his bow andhis battle-axe, his brand and his poisoned arrows. 

"The Navajoes?" I inquired. "Navajo and Apache. "

"But do they come no more to this place?" A feeling of anxiety hadsuddenly entered my mind. I thought of our proximity to the mansion wehad left. I thought of its unguarded walls. I waited with someimpatience for an answer. 

"No more, " was the brief reply. "And why?" I inquired. 

"This is our territory, " he answered, significantly. "You are now, monsieur, in a country where live strange fellows; you shall see. Woeto the Apache or Navajo who may stray into these woods!"

As we rode forward, the country became more open, and we caught aglimpse of high bluffs trending north and south on both sides of theriver. These bluffs converged till the river channel appeared to becompletely barred up by a mountain. This was only an appearance. Onriding farther, we found ourselves entering one of those fearful gaps, canons, as they are called, so often met with in the table-lands oftropical America. 

Through this the river foamed between two vast cliffs, a thousand feetin height, whose profiles, as you approached them, suggested the idea ofangry giants, separated by some almighty hand, and thus left frowning ateach other. It was with a feeling of awe that one looked up the face ofthese stupendous cliffs, and I felt a shuddering sensation as I nearedthe mighty gate between them. 

"Do you see that point?" asked Seguin, indicating a rock that jutted outfrom the highest ledge of the chasm. I signified in the affirmative, for the question was addressed to myself. 

"That is the leap you were so desirous of taking. We found you danglingagainst yonder rock. "

"Good God!" I ejaculated, as my eyes rested upon the dizzy eminence. My brain grew giddy as I sat in my saddle gazing upward, and I was fainto ride onward. 

"But for your noble horse, " continued my companion, "the doctor herewould have been stopping about this time to hypothecate upon your bones. Ho, Moro! beautiful Moro!"

"Oh, mein Gott! Ya, ya!" assented the botanist, looking up against theprecipice, apparently with a feeling of awe such as I felt myself. 

Seguin had ridden alongside me, and was patting my horse on the neckwith expressions of admiration. 

"But why?" I asked, the remembrance of our first interview nowoccurring to me, "why were you so eager to possess him?"

"A fancy. "

"Can I not understand it? I think you said then that I could not?"

"Oh, yes! Quite easily, monsieur. I intended to steal my own daughter, and I wanted, for that purpose, to have the aid of your horse. "

"But how?"

"It was before I had heard the news of this intended expedition of ourenemy. As I had no hopes of obtaining her otherwise, it was my designto have entered their country alone, or with a tried comrade, and bystratagem to have carried her off. Their horses are swift, yet farinferior to the Arab, as you may have an opportunity of seeing. Withsuch an animal as that, I would have been comparatively safe, unlesshemmed in or surrounded, and even then I might have got off with a fewscratches, I intended to have disguised myself, and entered the town asone of their own warriors. I have long been master of their language. "

"It would have been a perilous enterprise. "

"True! It was a _dernier ressort_, and only adopted because all otherefforts had failed; after years of yearning, deep craving of the heart. I might have perished. It was a rash thought, but I, at that time, entertained it fully. "

"I hope we shall succeed now. "

"I have high hopes. It seems as if some overruling providence were nowacting in my favour. This absence of her captors; and, besides, my bandhas been most opportunely strengthened by the arrival of a number oftrappers from the eastern plains. The beaver-skins have fallen, according to their phraseology, to a `plew a plug, ' and they find`red-skin' pays better. Ah! I hope this will soon be over. "

And he sighed deeply as he uttered the last words. 

We were now at the entrance of the gorge, and a shady clump ofcotton-woods invited us to rest. 

"Let us noon here, " said Seguin. 

We dismounted, and ran our animals out on their trail-ropes to feed. Then seating ourselves on the soft grass, we drew forth the viands thathad been prepared for our journey. 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. 

GEOGRAPHY AND GEOLOGY. 

We rested above an hour in the cool shade, while our horses refreshedthemselves on the "grama" that grew luxuriantly around. We conversedabout the singular region in which we were travelling; singular in itsgeography, its geology, its botany, and its history; singular in allrespects. 

I am a traveller, as I might say, by profession. I felt an interest inlearning something of the wild countries that stretched for hundreds ofmiles around us; and I knew there was no man living so capable of beingmy informant as he with whom I then conversed. 

My journey down the river had made me but little acquainted with itsfeatures. At that time, as I have already related, there was fever uponme; and my memory of objects was as though I had encountered them insome distorted dream. 

My brain was now clear; and the scenes through which we were passing--here soft and south-like, there wild, barren, and picturesque--forciblyimpressed my imagination. 

The knowledge, too, that parts of this region had once been inhabited bythe followers of Cortez, as many a ruin testified; that it had beensurrendered back to its ancient and savage lords, and the inference thatthis surrender had been brought about by the enactment of many a tragicscene, induced a train of romantic thought, which yearned forgratification in an acquaintance with the realities that gave rise toit. 

Seguin was communicative. His spirits were high. His hopes werebuoyant. The prospect of again embracing his long-lost child imbuedhim, as it were, with new life. He had not, he said, felt so happy formany years. 

"It is true, " said he, in answer to a question I had put, "there islittle known of this whole region, beyond the boundaries of the Mexicansettlements. They who once had the opportunity of recording itsgeographical features have left the task undone. They were too busy inthe search for gold; and their weak descendants, as you see, are toobusy in robbing one another to care for aught else. They know nothingof the country beyond their own borders; and these are every daycontracting upon them. All they know of it is the fact that thence cometheir enemies, whom they dread, as children do ghosts or wolves. "

"We are now, " continued Seguin, "near the centre of the continent, inthe very heart of the American Sahara. "

"But, " said I, interrupting him, "we cannot be more than a day's ridesouth of New Mexico. That is not a desert; it is a cultivated country. "

"New Mexico is an oasis, nothing more. The desert is around it forhundreds of miles; nay, in some directions you may travel a thousandmiles from the Del Norte without seeing one fertile spot. New Mexico isan oasis which owes its existence to the irrigating waters of the DelNorte. It is the only settlement of white men from the frontiers of theMississippi to the shores of the Pacific in California. You approachedit by a desert, did you not?"

"Yes; as we ascended from the Mississippi towards the Rocky Mountainsthe country became gradually more sterile. For the last three hundredmiles or so we could scarcely find grass or water for the sustenance ofour animals. But is it thus north and south of the route we travelled?"

"North and south for more than a thousand miles, from the plains ofTexas to the lakes of Canada, along the whole base of the RockyMountains, and half-way to the settlements on the Mississippi, it is atreeless, herbless land. "

"To the west of the mountains?"

"Fifteen hundred miles of desert; that is its length, by at least halfas many miles of breadth. The country to the west is of a differentcharacter. It is more broken in its outlines, more mountainous, and ifpossible more sterile in its aspect. The volcanic fires have been moreactive there; and though that may have been thousands of years ago, theigneous rocks in many places look as if freshly upheaved. Novegetation, no climatic action has sensibly changed the hues of the lavaand scoriae that in some places cover the plains for miles. I say noclimatic action, for there is but little of that in this centralregion. "

"I do not understand you. "

"What I mean is, that there is but little atmospheric change. It is butone uniform drought; it is seldom tempestuous or rainy. I know somedistricts where a drop of rain has not fallen for years. "

"And can you account for that phenomenon?"

"I have my theory. It may not satisfy the learned meteorologist, but Iwill offer it to you. "

I listened with attention, for I knew that my companion was a man ofscience, as of experience and observation, and subjects of the characterof those about which we conversed had always possessed great interestfor me. He continued--

"There can be no rain without vapour in the air. There can be no vapourin the air without water on the earth below to produce it. Here thereis no great body of water. 

"Nor can there be. The whole region of the desert is upheaved--anelevated table-land. We are now nearly six thousand feet above sealevel. Hence its springs are few; and by hydraulic law must be fed byits own waters, or those of some region still more elevated, which doesnot exist on the continent. 

"Could I create vast seas in this region, walled in by the loftymountains that traverse it--and such seas existed coeval with itsformation; could I create those seas without giving them an outlet, noteven allowing the smallest rill to drain them, in process of time theywould empty themselves into the ocean, and leave everything as it nowis, a desert. "

"But how? by evaporation?"

"On the contrary, the absence of evaporation would be the cause of theirdrainage. I believe it has been so already. "

"I cannot understand that. "

"It is simply thus: this region possesses, as we have said, greatelevation; consequently a cool atmosphere, and a much less evaporatingpower than that which draws up the water of the ocean. Now, there wouldbe an interchange of vapour between the ocean and these elevated seas, by means of winds and currents; for it is only by that means that anywater can reach this interior plateau. That interchange would result infavour of the inland seas, by reason of their less evaporation, as wellas from other causes. We have not time, or I could demonstrate such aresult. I beg you will admit it, then, and reason it out at yourleisure. "

"I perceive the truth; I perceive it at once. "

"What follows, then? These seas would gradually fill up to overflowing. The first little rivulet that trickled forth from their lipping fulnesswould be the signal of their destruction. It would cut its channel overthe ridge of the lofty mountain, tiny at first, but deepening andwidening with each successive shower, until, after many years--ages, centuries, cycles perhaps--a great gap such as this, " (here Seguinpointed to the canon), "and the dry plain behind it, would alone existto puzzle the geologist. "

"And you think that the plains lying among the Andes and the RockyMountains are the dry beds of seas?"

"I doubt it not; seas formed after the upheaval of the ridges thatbarred them in, formed by rains from the ocean, at first shallow, thendeepening, until they had risen to the level of their mountain barriers;and, as I have described, cut their way back again to the ocean. "

"But does not one of these seas still exist?"

"The Great Salt Lake? It does. It lies north-west of us. Not onlyone, but a system of lakes, springs, and rivers, both salt and fresh;and these have no outlet to the ocean. They are barred in by highlandsand mountains, of themselves forming a complete geographical system. "

"Does not that destroy your theory?"

"No. The basin in which this phenomenon exists is on a lower level thanmost of the desert plateaux. Its evaporating power is equal to theinflux of its own rivers, and consequently neutralises their effect;that is to say, in its exchange of vapour with the ocean, it gives asmuch as it receives. This arises, not so much from its low elevation asfrom the peculiar dip of the mountains that guide the waters into itsbosom. Place it in a colder position, _ceteris paribus_, and in time itwould cut the canal for its own drainage. So with the Caspian Sea, theAral, and the Dead Sea. No, my friend, the existence of the Salt Lakesupports my theory. Around its shores lies a fertile country, fertilefrom the quick returns of its own waters moistening it with rain. Itexists only to a limited extent, and cannot influence the whole regionof the desert, which lies parched and sterile, on account of its greatdistance from the ocean. "

"But does not the vapour rising from the ocean float over the desert?"

"It does, as I have said, to some extent, else there would be no rainhere. Sometimes by extraordinary causes, such as high winds, it iscarried into the heart of the continent in large masses. Then we havestorms, and fearful ones too. But, generally, it is only the skirt of acloud, so to speak, that reaches thus far; and that, combined with theproper evaporation of the region itself, that is, from its own springsand rivers, yields all the rain that falls upon it. Great bodies ofvapour, rising from the Pacific and drifting eastward, first impingeupon the coast range, and there deposit their waters; or perhaps theyare more highly-heated, and soaring above the tops of these mountains, travel farther. They will be intercepted a hundred miles farther on bythe loftier ridges of the Sierra Nevada, and carried back, as it were, captive, to the ocean by the streams of the Sacramento and San Joaquim. It is only the skirt of these clouds, as I have termed it, that, soaringstill higher, and escaping the attractive influence of the Nevada, floats on, and falls into the desert region. What then? No sooner hasit fallen than it hurries back to the sea by the Gila and Colorado, torise again and fertilise the slopes of the Nevada; while the fragment ofsome other cloud drifts its scanty supply over the arid uplands of theinterior, to be spent in rain or snow upon the peaks of the RockyMountains. Hence the source of the rivers running east and west, andhence the oases, such as the parks that lie among these mountains. Hence the fertile valleys upon the Del Norte, and other streams thatthinly meander through this central land. 

"Vapour-clouds from the Atlantic undergo a similar detention in crossingthe Alleghany range; or, cooling, after having circled a great distanceround the globe, descend into the valleys of the Ohio and Mississippi. From all sides of this great continent, as you approach its centre, fertility declines, and only from the want of water. The soil in manyplaces where there is scarcely a blade of grass to be seen, possessesall the elements of vegetation. So the doctor will tell you; he hasanalysed it. "

"Ya, ya! dat ish true, " quietly affirmed the doctor. 

"There are many oases, " continued Seguin; "and where water can be usedto irrigate the soil, luxuriant vegetation is the consequence. You haveobserved this, no doubt, in travelling down the river; and such was thecase in the old Spanish settlements on the Gila. "

"But why were these abandoned?" I inquired, never having heard anyreason assigned for the desertion of these once flourishing colonies. 

"Why!" echoed Seguin, with a peculiar energy; "why! Unless some otherrace than the Iberian take possession of these lands, the Apache, theNavajo, and the Comanche, the conquered of Cortez and his conquerors, will yet drive the descendants of those very conquerors from the soil ofMexico. Look at Sonora and Chihuahua, half-depopulated! Look at NewMexico; its citizens living by suffrance: living, as it were, to tillthe land and feed the flocks for the support of their own enemies, wholevy their blackmail by the year! But, come; the sun tells us we muston. Come!

"Mount! we can go through, " continued he. "There has been no rainlately, and the water is low, otherwise we should have fifteen miles ofa ride over the mountain yonder. Keep close to the rocks! Follow me!"

And with this admonition he entered the canon, followed by myself, Gode, and the doctor. 

CHAPTER NINETEEN. 

THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 

It was still early in the evening when we reached the camp--the camp ofthe scalp-hunters. Our arrival was scarcely noticed. A single glanceat us, as we rode in amongst the men was all the recognition wereceived. No one rose from his seat or ceased his occupation. We wereleft to unsaddle our horses and dispose of them as best we might. 

I was wearied with the ride, having been so long unused to the saddle. I threw my blanket on the ground, and sat down, resting my back againstthe stump of a tree. I could have slept, but the strangeness ofeverything around me excited my imagination, and, with feelings ofcuriosity, I looked and listened. 

I should call the pencil to my aid to give you an idea of the scene, andthat would but faintly illustrate it. A wilder and more picturesque_coup-d'oeil_ never impressed human vision. It reminded me of picturesI had seen representing the bivouacs of brigands under the dark pines ofthe Abruzzi. 

I paint from a recollection that looks back over many years ofadventurous life. I can give only the more salient points of thepicture. The _petite detail_ is forgotten, although at that time theminutest objects were things new and strange to my eye, and each of themfor a while fixed my attention. I afterwards grew familiar with them;and hence they are now in my memory, as a multitude of other things, indistinct from their very distinctness. 

The camp was in a bend of the Del Norte, in a glade surrounded by tallcotton-woods, whose smooth trunks rose vertically out of a thickunderwood of palmettoes and Spanish bayonet. A few tattered tents stoodin the open ground; and there were skin lodges after the Indian fashion. But most of the hunters had made their shelter with a buffalo-robestretched upon four upright poles. There were "lairs" among theunderwood, constructed of branches, and thatched with the palmatedleaves of the yucca, or with reeds brought from the adjacent river. 

There were paths leading out in different directions, marked by openingsin the foliage. Through one of these a green meadow was visible. Mulesand mustangs, picketed on long trail-ropes, were clustered over it. 

Through the camp were seen the saddles, bridles, and packs, resting uponstumps or hanging from the branches. Guns leaned against the trees, andrusted sabres hung suspended over the tents and lodges. Articles ofcamp furniture, such as pans, kettles, and axes, littered the ground inevery direction. Log fires were burning. Around them sat clusters ofmen. They were not seeking warmth, for it was not cold. They wereroasting ribs of venison, or smoking odd-fashioned pipes. Some werescouring their arms and accoutrements. 

The accents of many languages fell upon my ear. I heard snatches ofFrench, Spanish, English, and Indian. The exclamations were incharacter with the appearance of those who uttered them. "Hollo, Dick!hang it, old hoss, what are ye 'bout?" "Carambo!" "By the 'tarnalairthquake!" "Vaya! hombre, vaya!" "Carrajo!" "By Gosh!" "SantisimaMaria!" "Sacr-r-re!"

It seemed as if the different nations had sent representatives tocontest the supremacy of their shibboleths. 

I was struck with three groups. A particular language prevailed ineach; and there was a homogeneousness about the costumes of the mencomposing each. That nearest me conversed in the Spanish language. They were Mexicans. I will describe the dress of one, as I remember it. 

Calzoneros of green velvet. These are cut after the fashion ofsailor-trousers, short waist, tight round the hips, and wide at thebottoms, where they are strengthened by black leather stamped andstitched ornamentally. The outer seams are split from hip to thigh, slashed with braid, and set with rows of silver "castletops. " Theseseams are open, for the evening is warm, and underneath appear thecalzoncillos of white muslin, hanging in white folds around the ankles. The boot is of calf-skin, tanned, but not blackened. It is reddish, rounded at the toe, and carries a spur at least a pound in weight, witha rowel three inches in diameter! The spur is curiously fashioned andfastened to the boot by straps of stamped leather. Little bells, campanulas, hang from the teeth of the rowels, and tinkle at theslightest motion of the foot! Look upward. The calzoneros are notbraced, but fastened at the waist by a silken sash or scarf. It isscarlet. It is passed several times round the body, and made fastbehind, where the fringed ends hang gracefully over the left hip. Thereis no waistcoat. A jacket of dark cloth embroidered and tightlyfitting, short behind, _a la Grecque_, leaving the shirt to puff outover the scarf. The shirt itself, with its broad collar and floweredfront, exhibits the triumphant skill of some dark-eyed poblana. Overall this is the broad-brimmed, shadowy sombrero; a heavy hat of blackglaze, with its thick band of silver bullion. There are tags of thesame metal stuck in the sides, giving it an appearance altogetherunique. Over one shoulder is hanging, half-folded, the picturesqueserape. A belt and pouch, an escopette upon which the hand is resting, a waist-belt with a pair of small pistols stuck under it, a long Spanishknife suspended obliquely across the left hip, complete the _toutensemble_ of him whom I have chosen to describe. 

It may answer as a characteristic of the dress of many of hiscompanions, those of the group that was nearest me. There was varietyin their habiliments, yet the national costume of Mexico was traceablein all. Some wore leather calzoneros, with a spencer or jerkin of thesame material, close both at front and behind. Some carried, instead ofthe pictured serape, the blanket of the Navajoes, with its broad blackstripes. Suspended from the shoulders of others hung the beautiful andgraceful manga. Some were moccasined; while a few of the inferior menwore the simple guarache, the sandal of the Aztecs. 

The countenances of these men were swarth and savage-looking, their hairlong, straight, and black as the wing of a crow; while both beard andmoustache grew wildly over their faces. Fierce dark eyes gleamed underthe broad brims of their hats. Few of them were men of high stature;yet there was a litheness in their bodies that showed them to be capableof great activity. Their frames were well knit, and inured to fatiguesand hardships. They were all, or nearly all, natives of the Mexicanborder, frontier men, who had often closed in deadly fight with theIndian foe. They were ciboleros, vaqueros, rancheros, monteros; men whoin their frequent association with the mountain men, the Gallic andSaxon hunters from the eastern plains, had acquired a degree of daringwhich by no means belongs to their own race. They were the chivalry ofthe Mexican frontier. 

They smoked cigaritas, rolling them between their fingers in husks ofmaize. They played monte on their spread blankets, staking theirtobacco. They cursed, and cried "Carrajo!" when they lost, and thanksto the "Santisima Virgin" when the cards were pulled out in theirfavour!

Their language was a Spanish patois; their voices were sharp anddisagreeable. 

At a short distance from these was the second group that attracted myattention. The individuals composing this were altogether differentfrom the former. They were different in every essential point: invoice, dress, language, and physiognomy. Theirs was the Anglo-Americanface, at a glance. These were the trappers, the prairie hunters, themountain men. 

Let us again choose a type that may answer for a description of all. 

He stands leaning on his long straight rifle, looking into the fire. Heis six feet in his moccasins, and of a build that suggests the idea ofstrength and Saxon ancestry. His arms are like young oaks, and hishand, grasping the muzzle of his gun, is large, fleshless, and muscular. His cheek is broad and firm. It is partially covered by a bushywhisker that meets over the chin and fringes all around the lips. It isneither fair nor dark, but of a dull-brown colour, lighter around themouth, where it has been bleached by the sun, "ambeer, " and water. Theeye is grey, or bluish grey, small, and slightly crowed at the corner. It is well set, and rarely wanders. It seems to look into you ratherthan at you. The hair is brown and of a medium length (cut, no doubt, on his last visit to the trading post, or the settlements); and thecomplexion, although dark as that of a mulatto, is only so from tan. Itwas once fair: a blonde. The countenance is not unprepossessing. Itmight be styled handsome. Its whole expression is bold, butgood-humoured and generous. 

The dress of the individual described is of home manufacture; that is, of his home, the prairie and the wild mountain park, where the materialhas been bought by a bullet from his rifle. It is the work of his ownhands, unless indeed he may be one who has shared his cabin with someIndian--Sioux, Crow, or Cheyenne. 

It consists of a hunting-shirt of dressed deer-skin, smoked to thesoftness of a glove; leggings, reaching to the waist, and moccasins ofthe same material; the latter soled with the parfleche of the buffalo. The shirt is belted at the waist, but open at the breast and throat, where it falls back into a graceful cape just covering the shoulders. Underneath is seen the undershirt, of finer material, the dressed skinof the antelope, or the fawn of the fallow-deer. On his head is araccoon cap, with the face of the animal looking to the front, while thebarred tail hangs like a plume drooping down to his left shoulder. 

His accoutrements are, a bullet-pouch made from the undressed skin ofthe mountain cat, and a huge crescent-shaped horn, upon which he hascarved many a strange souvenir. His arms consist of a long knife, abowie, and a heavy pistol, carefully secured by a holster to theleathern belt around his waist. Add to this a rifle nearly five feetlong, taking ninety to the pound, and so straight that the line of thebarrel scarcely deflects from that of the butt. 

But little attention has been paid to ornament in either his dress, arms, or equipments; and yet there is a gracefulness in the hang of histunic-like shirt; a stylishness about the fringing of the cape andleggings; and a jauntiness in the set of that coon-skin cap that showsthe wearer to be not altogether unmindful of his personal appearance. Asmall pouch or case, neatly embroidered with stained porcupine quills, hangs upon his breast. 

At intervals he contemplates this with a pleased and complacent look. It is his pipe-holder: a love-token from some dark-eyed, dark-haireddamsel, no doubt, like himself a denizen of the wild wilderness. Suchis the _tout ensemble_ of a mountain trapper. 

There were many around him whom I have described almost similarlyattired and equipped. Some wore slouch hats of greyish felt, and somecatskin caps. Some had hunting-shirts bleached to a brighter hue, andbroidered with gayer colours. Others looked more tattered and patched, and smoky; yet in the costume of all there was enough of character toenable you to class them. There was no possibility of mistaking theregular mountain man. 

The third group that attracted my attention was at a greater distancefrom the spot I occupied. I was filled with curiosity, not to sayastonishment, on perceiving that they were Indians. 

"Can they be prisoners?" thought I. "No; they are not bound. There areno signs of captivity either in their looks or gestures, and yet theyare Indians. Can they belong to the band, fighting against--?"

As I sat conjecturing, a hunter passed near me. 

"Who are these Indians?" I asked, indicating the group. 

"Delawares; some Shawnees. "

These, then, were the celebrated Delawares, descendants of that greattribe who, on the Atlantic shores, first gave battle to the pale-facedinvader. Theirs had been a wonderful history. War their school, wartheir worship, war their pastime, war their profession. They are nowbut a remnant. Their story will soon be ended. 

I rose up, and approached them with a feeling of interest. Some of themwere sitting around the fire, smoking out of curiously-carved pipes ofthe red claystone. Others strode back and forth with that majestic gaitfor which the forest Indian has been so much celebrated. There was asilence among them that contrasted strangely with the jabbering kept upby their Mexican allies. An occasional question put in a deep-toned, sonorous voice, a short but emphatic reply, a guttural grunt, adignified nod, a gesture with the hand; and thus they conversed, as theyfilled their pipe-bowls with the kini-kin-ik, and passed the valuedinstruments from one to another. 

I stood gazing upon these stoical sons of the forest with emotionsstronger than curiosity, as one contemplates for the first time anobject of which he has heard and read strange accounts. The history oftheir wars and their wanderings were fresh in my memory. Before me werethe actors themselves, or types of them, in all their truthful reality, in all their wild picturesqueness. These were the men who, driven fromtheir homes by the Atlantic border, yielded only to fate--to the destinyof their race. Crossing the Appalachian range, they had fought theirway from home to home, down the steep sides of the Alleghany, along thewooded banks of the Ohio, into the heart of the "Bloody Ground. " Stillthe pale-face followed on their track, and drove them onward, onwardtowards the setting sun. Red wars, Punic faith, broken treaties, yearafter year, thinned their ranks. Still, disdaining to live near theirwhite conquerors, they pushed on, fighting their way through tribes oftheir own race and colour thrice their numbers! The forks of the Osagebecame their latest resting-place. Here the usurper promised toguarantee them a home, to be theirs to all time. The concession cametoo late. War and wandering had grown to be part of their natures; andwith a scornful pride they disdained the peaceful tillage of the soil. The remnant of their tribe was collected on the Osage, but in one seasonit had disappeared. The braves and young men wandered away, leavingonly the old, the women, and the worthless in their allotted home. Where have they gone? Where are they now? He who would find theDelawares must seek them on the broad prairies, in the mountain parks, in the haunts of the bear and the beaver, the big-horn and the buffalo. There he may find them, in scattered bands, leagued with their ancientenemies the whites, or alone, trapping, hunting, fighting the Yuta orRapaho, the Crow or Cheyenne, the Navajo and the Apache. 

I stood gazing upon the group with feelings of profound interest, upontheir features and their picturesque habiliments. Though no two of themwere dressed exactly alike, there was a similarity about the dress ofall. Most of them wore hunting-shirts, not made of deer-skin like thoseof the whites, but of calico, printed in bright patterns. This dress, handsomely fashioned and fringed, under the accoutrements of the Indianwarrior, presented a striking appearance. But that which chieflydistinguished the costumes of both the Delaware and Shawano from that oftheir white allies was the head-dress. This was, in fact, a turban, formed by binding the head with a scarf or kerchief of a brilliantcolour, such as may be seen on the dark Creoles of Hayti. In the groupbefore me no two of these turbans were alike, yet they were all of asimilar character. The finest were those made by the chequeredkerchiefs of Madras. Plumes surmounted them of coloured feathers fromthe wing of the war-eagle, or the blue plumage of the gruya. 

For the rest of their costume they wore deer-skin leggings andmoccasins, nearly similar to those of the trappers. The leggings ofsome were ornamented by scalp-locks along the outer seam, exhibiting adark history of the wearer's prowess. I noticed that their moccasinswere peculiar, differing altogether from those worn by the Indians ofthe prairies. They were seamed up the fronts, without braiding orornament, and gathered into a double row of plaits. 

The arms and equipments of these warrior men were like those of thewhite hunters. They have long since discarded the bow; and in themanagement of the rifle most of them can "draw a bead" and hit "plumbcentre" with any of their mountain associates. In addition to thefirelock and knife, I noticed that they still carried the ancient weaponof their race, the fearful tomahawk. 

I have described three characteristic groups that struck me on glancingover the camp ground. There were individuals belonging to neither, andothers partaking of the character of one or all. There were Frenchmen, Canadian voyageurs, strays of the north-west company, wearing whitecapotes, and chatting, dancing, and singing their boat-songs with allthe _esprit_ of their race. There were pueblos, Indios manzos, clad intheir ungraceful tilmas, and rather serving than associating with thosearound them. There were mulattoes, too, and negroes of a jettyblackness from the plantations of Louisiana, who had exchanged for thisfree, roving life the twisted "cow-skin" of the overseer. There weretattered uniforms showing the deserters who had wandered from somefrontier post into this remote region. There were Kanakas from theSandwich Isles, who had crossed the deserts from California. There weremen apparently of every hue and clime and tongue here assembled, drawntogether by the accidents of life, by the instinct of adventure--allmore or less strange individuals of the strangest band it has ever beenmy lot to witness: the band of the Scalp-Hunters!

CHAPTER TWENTY. 

SHARP-SHOOTING. 

I had returned to my blanket, and was about to stretch myself upon it, when the whoop of a gruya drew my attention. Looking up, I saw one ofthese birds flying towards the camp. It was coming through a break inthe trees that opened from the river. It flew low, and tempted a shotwith its broad wings, and slow, lazy flight. 

A report rang upon the air. One of the Mexicans had fired hisescopette; but the bird flew on, plying its wings with more energy, asif to bear itself out of reach. 

There was a laugh from the trappers, and a voice cried out--

"Yur fool! D'yur think 'ee kud hit a spread blanket wi' thatbeetle-shaped blunderbox? Pish!"

I turned to see who had delivered this odd speech. Two men were poisingtheir rifles, bringing them to bear upon the bird. One was the younghunter whom I have described. The other was an Indian whom I had notseen before. 

The cracks were simultaneous; and the crane, dropping its long neck, came whirling down among the trees, where it caught upon a high branch, and remained. 

From their position neither party knew that the other had fired. A tentwas between them, and the two reports had seemed as one. A trappercried out--

"Well done, Garey! Lord help the thing that's afore old Killbar'smuzzle when you squints through her hind-sights. "

The Indian just then stepped round the tent. Hearing this side speech, and perceiving the smoke still oozing from the muzzle of the younghunter's gun, he turned to the latter with the interrogation--

"Did you fire, sir?"

This was said in well-accentuated and most un-Indianlike English, whichwould have drawn my attention to the man had not his singularly-imposingappearance riveted me already. 

"Who is he?" I inquired from one near me. 

"Don't know; fresh arriv', " was the short answer. 

"Do you mean that he is a stranger here?"

"Just so. He kumb in thar a while agone. Don't b'lieve anybody knowshim. I guess the captain does; I seed them shake hands. "

I looked at the Indian with increasing interest. He seemed a man ofabout thirty years of age, and not much under seven feet in height. Hewas proportioned like an Apollo, and, on this account, appeared smallerthan he actually was. His features were of the Roman type; and his fineforehead, his aquiline nose and broad jawbone, gave him the appearanceof talent, as well as firmness and energy. He was dressed in ahunting-shirt, leggings, and moccasins; but all these differed fromanything worn either by the hunters or their Indian allies. The shirtitself was made out of the dressed hide of the red deer, but differentlyprepared from that used by the trappers. It was bleached almost to thewhiteness of a kid glove. The breast, unlike theirs, was close, andbeautifully embroidered with stained porcupine quills. The sleeves weresimilarly ornamented; and the cape and skirts were trimmed with thesoft, snow-white fur of the ermine. A row of entire skins of thatanimal hung from the skirt border, forming a fringe both graceful andcostly. But the most singular feature about this man was his hair. Itfell loosely over his shoulders, and swept the ground as he walked! Itcould not have been less than seven feet in length. It was black, glossy, and luxuriant, and reminded me of the tails of those greatFlemish horses I had seen in the funeral carriages of London. 

He wore upon his head the war-eagle bonnet, with its full circle ofplumes: the finest triumph of savage taste. This magnificent head-dressadded to the majesty of his appearance. 

A white buffalo robe hung from his shoulders, with all the gracefuldraping of a toga. Its silky fur corresponded to the colour of hisdress, and contrasted strikingly with his own dark tresses. 

There were other ornaments about his person. His arms and accoutrementswere shining with metallic brightness, and the stock and butt of hisrifle were richly inlaid with silver. 

I have been thus minute in my description, as the first appearance ofthis man impressed me with a picture that can never be effaced from mymemory. He was the _beau ideal_ of a picturesque and romantic savage;and yet there was nothing savage either in his speech or bearing. Onthe contrary, the interrogation which he had just addressed to thetrapper was put in the politest manner. The reply was not so courteous. 

"Did I fire! Didn't ye hear a crack? Didn't ye see the thing fall?Look yonder!"

Garey, as he spoke, pointed up to the bird. 

"We must have fired simultaneously. "

As the Indian said this he appealed to his gun, which was still smokingat the muzzle. 

"Look hyar, Injun! whether we fired symultainyously, or extraneously, orcattawampously, ain't the flappin' o' a beaver's tail to me; but I tuksight on that bird; I hut that bird; and 'twar my bullet brought thething down. "

"I think I must have hit it too, " replied the Indian, modestly. 

"That's like, with that ar' spangled gimcrack!" said Garey, lookingdisdainfully at the other's gun, and then proudly at his own brownweather-beaten piece, which he had just wiped, and was about to reload. 

"Gimcrack or no, " answered the Indian, "she sends a bullet straighterand farther than any piece I have hitherto met with. I'll warrant shehas sent hers through the body of the crane. "

"Look hyar, mister--for I s'pose we must call a gentleman `mister' whospeaks so fine an' looks so fine, tho' he be's an Injun--it's mightyeasy to settle who hut the bird. That thing's a fifty or tharabouts;Killbar's a ninety. 'Taint hard to tell which has plugged the varmint. We'll soon see;" and, so saying, the hunter stepped off towards the treeon which hung the gruya, high up. 

"How are you to get it down?" cried one of the men, who had steppedforward to witness the settlement of this curious dispute. 

There was no reply, for everyone saw that Garey was poising his riflefor a shot. The crack followed; and the branch, shivered by his bullet, bent downward under the weight of the gruya. But the bird, caught in adouble fork, still stuck fast on the broken limb. 

A murmur of approbation followed the shot. These were men notaccustomed to hurrah loudly at a trivial incident. 

The Indian now approached, having reloaded his piece. Taking aim, hestruck the branch at the shattered point, cutting it clean from thetree! The bird fell to the ground, amidst expressions of applause fromthe spectators, but chiefly from the Mexican and Indian hunters. It wasat once picked up and examined. Two bullets had passed through itsbody. Either would have killed it. 

A shadow of unpleasant feeling was visible on the face of the youngtrapper. In the presence of so many hunters of every nation, to be thusequalled, beaten in the in of his favourite weapon, and by an "Injun";still worse by one of "them ar' gingerbread guns!" The mountain menhave no faith in an ornamented stock, or a big bore. Spangled rifles, they say, are like spangled razors, made for selling to greenhorns. Itwas evident, however, that the strange Indian's rifle had been made toshoot as well. 

It required all the strength of nerve which the trapper possessed toconceal his chagrin. Without saying a word, he commenced wiping out hisgun with that stoical calmness peculiar to men of his calling. Iobserved that he proceeded to load with more than usual care. It wasevident that he would not rest satisfied with the trial already made, but would either beat the "Injun, " or be himself "whipped into shucks. "So he declared in a muttered speech to his comrades. 

His piece was soon loaded; and, swinging her to the hunter's carry, heturned to the crowd, now collected from all parts of the camp. 

"Thar's one kind o' shootin', " said he, "that's jest as easy as fallin'off a log. Any man kin do it as kin look straight through hind-sights. But then thar's another kind that ain't so easy; it needs narve. "

Here the trapper paused, and looked towards the Indian, who was alsoreloading. 

"Look hyar, stranger!" continued he, addressing the latter, "have ye gota cummarade on the ground as knows yer shooting?"

The Indian after a moment's hesitation, answered, "Yes. "

"Kin your cummarade depend on yer shot?"

"Oh! I think so. Why do you wish to know that?"

"Why, I'm a-going to show ye a shot we sometimes practise at Bent'sFort, jest to tickle the greenhorns. 'Tain't much of a shot nayther;but it tries the narves a little I reckon. Hoy! Rube!"

"What doo 'ee want?"

This was spoken in an energetic and angry-like voice, that turned alleyes to the quarter whence it proceeded. At the first glance, thereseemed to be no one in that direction. In looking more carefully amongthe logs and stumps, an individual was discovered seated by one of thefires. It would have been difficult to tell that it was a human body, had not the arms at the moment been in motion. The back was turnedtoward the crowd, and the head had disappeared, sunk forward over thefire. The object, from where we were standing, looked more like thestump of a cotton-wood, dressed in dirt-coloured buckskin, than the bodyof a human being. On getting nearer, and round to the front of it, itwas seen to be a man, though a very curious one, holding a long rib ofdeer-meat in both hands, which he was polishing with a very poor set ofteeth. 

The whole appearance of this individual was odd and striking. Hisdress, if dress it could be called, was simple as it was savage. Itconsisted of what might have once been a hunting-shirt, but which nowlooked more like a leathern bag with the bottom ripped open, and thesleeves sewed into the sides. It was of a dirty-brown colour, wrinkledat the hollow of the arms, patched round the armpits, and greasy allover; it was fairly caked with dirt! There was no attempt at eitherornament or fringe. There had been a cape, but this had evidently beendrawn upon from time to time, for patches and other uses, until scarcelya vestige of it remained. The leggings and moccasins were on a par withthe shirt, and seemed to have been manufactured out of the same hide. They, too, were dirt-brown, patched, wrinkled, and greasy. They did notmeet each other, but left a piece of the ankle bare, and that also wasdirt-brown, like the buck-skin. There was no undershirt, waistcoat, orother garment to be seen, with the exception of a close-fitting cap, which had once been cat-skin, but the hair was all worn off it, leavinga greasy, leathery-looking surface, that corresponded well with theother parts of the dress. Cap, shirt, leggings, and moccasins looked asif they had never been stripped off since the day they were first triedon, and that might have been many a year ago. The shirt was open, displaying the naked breast and throat, and these, as well as the face, hands, and ankles, had been tanned by the sun, and smoked by the fire, to the hue of rusty copper. The whole man, clothes and all, looked asif he had been smoked on purpose!

His face bespoke a man of sixty. The features were sharp and somewhataquiline; and the small eye was dark, quick, and piercing. His hair wasblack and cut short. His complexion had been naturally brunette, thoughthere was nothing of the Frenchman or Spaniard on his physiognomy. Hewas more likely of the black Saxon breed. 

As I looked at this man (for I had walked towards him, prompted by someinstinct of curiosity), I began to fancy that there was a strangenessabout him, independent of the oddness of his attire. There seemed to besomething peculiar about his head, something wanting. What was it? Iwas not long in conjecture. When fairly in front of him, I saw what waswanting. It was his ears!

This discovery impressed me with a feeling akin to awe. There issomething awful in a man without ears. It suggests some horrid drama, some terrible scene of cruel vengeance. It suggests the idea of crimecommitted and punishment inflicted. 

These thoughts were wandering through my mind, when all at once Iremembered a remark which Seguin had made on the previous night. This, then, thought I, is the person of whom he spoke. My mind was satisfied. 

After making answer as above, the old fellow sat for some time with hishead between his knees, chewing, mumbling, and growling, like a lean oldwolf, angry at being disturbed in his meal. 

"Come hyar, Rube! I want ye a bit, " continued Garey, in a tone of halfentreaty. 

"And so 'ee will want me a bit; this child don't move a peg till he hascleaned this hyur rib; he don't, now!"

"Dog-gone it, man! make haste, then!" and the impatient trapper droppedthe butt of his rifle to the ground, and stood waiting in sullensilence. 

After chewing, and mumbling, and growling a few minutes longer, oldRube, for that was the name by which the leathery sinner was known, slowly erected his lean carcass; and came walking up to the crowd. 

"What do 'ee want, Billee?" he inquired, going up to the trapper. 

"I want ye to hold this, " answered Garey, offering him a round whiteshell, about the size of a watch, a species of which there were manystrewed over the ground. 

"It's a bet, boyee?"

"No, it is not. "

"Ain't wastin' yur powder, ar yur?"

"I've been beat shootin', " replied the trapper, in an undertone, "bythat 'ar Injun. "

The old man looked over to where the strange Indian was standing erectand majestic, in all the pride of his plumage. There was no appearanceof triumph or swagger about him, as he stood leaning on his rifle, in anattitude at once calm and dignified. 

It was plain, from the way old Rube surveyed him, that he had seen himbefore, though not in that camp. After passing his eyes over him fromhead to foot, and there resting them a moment, a low murmur escaped hislips, which ended abruptly in the word "Coco. "

"A Coco, do ye think?" inquired the other, with an apparent interest. 

"Are 'ee blind, Billee? Don't 'ee see his moccasin?"

"Yes, you're right, but I was in thar nation two years ago. I seed nosuch man as that. "

"He w'an't there. "

"Whar, then?"

"Whur thur's no great show o' redskins. He may shoot well; he didoncest on a time: plumb centre. "

"You knew him, did ye?"

"O-ee-es. Oncest. Putty squaw: hansum gal. Whur do 'ee want me togo?"

I thought that Garey seemed inclined to carry the conversation further. There was an evident interest in his manner when the other mentioned the"squaw. " Perhaps he had some tender recollection; but seeing the otherpreparing to start off, he pointed to an open glade that stretchedeastward, and simply answered, "Sixty. "

"Take care o' my claws, d'yur hear! Them Injuns has made 'em scarce;this child can't spare another. "

The old trapper said this with a flourish of his right hand. I noticedthat the little finger had been chopped off!

"Never fear, old hoss!" was the reply; and at this, the smoky carcasemoved away with a slow and regular pace, that showed he was measuringthe yards. 

When he had stepped the sixtieth yard, he faced about, and stood erect, placing his heels together. He then extended his right arm, raising ituntil his hand was on a level with his shoulder, and holding the shellin his fingers, flat side to the front, shouted back--

"Now, Billee, shoot, and be hanged to yur!"

The shell was slightly concave, the concavity turned to the front. Thethumb and finger reached half round the circumference, so that a part ofthe edge was hidden; and the surface turned towards the marksman was notlarger than the dial of a common watch. 

This was a fearful sight. It is one not so common among the mountainmen as travellers would have you believe. The feat proves themarksman's skill; first, if successful, by showing the strength andsteadiness of his nerves; secondly, by the confidence which the otherreposes in it, thus declared by stronger testimony than any oath. Inany case the feat of holding the mark is at least equal to that ofhitting it. There are many hunters willing to risk taking the shot, butfew who care to hold the shell. 

It was a fearful sight, and my nerves tingled as I looked on. Manyothers felt as I. No one interfered. There were few present who wouldhave dared, even had these two men been making preparations to fire ateach other. Both were "men of mark" among their comrades: trappers ofthe first class. 

Garey, drawing a long breath, planted himself firmly, the heel of hisleft foot opposite to, and some inches in advance of, the hollow of hisright. Then, jerking up his gun, and throwing the barrel across hisleft palm, he cried out to his comrade--

"Steady, ole bone an' sinyer! hyar's at ye!"

The words were scarcely out when the gun was levelled. There was amoment's death-like silence, all eyes looking to the mark. Then camethe crack, and the shell was seen to fly, shivered into fifty fragments!There was a cheer from the crowd. Old Rube stopped to pick up one ofthe pieces, and after examining it for a moment, shouted in a loudvoice;--

"Plumb centre, by--!"

The young trapper had, in effect, hit the mark in the very centre, asthe blue stain of the bullet testified. 

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. 

A FEAT A LA TELL. 

All eyes were turned upon the strange Indian. During the scenedescribed he has stood silent, and calmly looking on. His eye nowwanders over the ground, apparently in search of an object. 

A small convolvulus, known as the prairie gourd, is lying at his feet. It is globe-shaped, about the size of an orange, and not unlike one incolour. He stoops and takes it up. He seems to examine it with greatcare, balancing it upon his hand, as though he were calculating itsweight. 

What does he intend to do with this? Will he fling it up, and send hisbullet through it in the air? What else?

His motions are watched in silence. Nearly all the scalp-hunters, sixtyor seventy, are on the ground. Seguin only, with the doctor and a fewmen, is engaged some distance off, pitching a tent. Garey stands uponone side, slightly elated with his triumph, but not without feelings ofapprehension that he may yet be beaten. Old Rube has gone back to thefire, and is roasting another rib. 

The gourd seems to satisfy the Indian, for whatever purpose he intendsit. A long piece of bone, the thigh joint of the war-eagle, hangssuspended over his breast. It is curiously carved, and pierced withholes like a musical instrument. It is one. 

He places this to his lips, covering the holes, with his fingers. Hesounds three notes, oddly inflected, but loud and sharp. He drops theinstrument again, and stands looking eastward into the woods. The eyesof all present are bent in the same direction. The hunters, influencedby a mysterious curiosity, remain silent, or speak only in lowmutterings. 

Like an echo, the three notes are answered by a similar signal! It isevident that the Indian has a comrade in the woods, yet not one of theband seems to know aught of him or his comrade. Yes, one does. It isRube. 

"Look'ee hyur, boyees!" cries he, squinting over his shoulders; "I'llstake this rib against a griskin o' poor bull that 'ee'll see theputtiest gal as 'ee ever set yur eyes on. "

There is no reply; we are gazing too intently for the expected arrival. 

A rustling is heard, as of someone parting the bushes, the tread of alight foot, the snapping of twigs. A bright object appears among theleaves. Someone is coming through the underwood. It is a woman. 

It is an Indian girl, attired in a singular and picturesque costume. 

She steps out of the bushes, and comes boldly towards the crowd. Alleyes are turned upon her with looks of wonder and admiration. We scanher face and figure and her striking attire. 

She is dressed not unlike the Indian himself, and there is resemblancein other respects. The tunic worn by the girl is of finer materials; offawn-skin. It is richly trimmed, and worked with split quills, stainedto a variety of bright colours. It hangs to the middle of the thighs, ending in a fringe-work of shells, that tinkle as she moves. 

Her limbs are wrapped in leggings of scarlet cloth, fringed like thetunic, and reaching to the ankles where they meet the flaps of hermoccasins. These last are white, embroidered with stained quills, andfitting closely to her small feet. 

A belt of wampum closes the tunic on her waist, exhibiting the globulardevelopments of a full-grown bosom and the undulating outlines of awomanly person. Her headdress is similar to that worn by her companion, but smaller and lighter; and her hair, like his, hangs loosely down, reaching almost to the ground! Her neck, throat, and part of her bosomare nude, and clustered over with bead-strings of various colours. 

The expression of her countenance is high and noble. Her eye isoblique. The lips meet with a double curve, and the throat is full androunded. Her complexion is Indian; but a crimson hue, strugglingthrough the brown upon her cheek, gives that pictured expression to hercountenance which may be observed in the quadroon of the West Indies. 

She is a girl, though full-grown and boldly developed: a type of healthand savage beauty. 

As she approaches, the men murmur their admiration. There are heartsbeating under hunting-shirts that rarely deign to dream of the charms ofwoman. 

I am struck at this moment with the appearance of the young trapperGarey. His face has fallen, the blood has forsaken his cheeks, his lipsare white and compressed, and dark rings have formed round his eyes. They express anger, but there is still another meaning in them. 

Is it jealousy? Yes!

He has stepped behind one of his comrades, as if he did not wish to beseen. One hand is playing involuntarily with the handle of his knife. The other grasps the barrel of his gun, as though he would crush itbetween his fingers!

The girl comes up. The Indian hands her the gourd, muttering some wordsin an unknown tongue--unknown, at least, to me. She takes it withoutmaking any reply, and walks off towards the spot where Rube had stood, which has been pointed out to her by her companion. 

She reaches the tree, and halts in front of it, facing round as thetrapper had done. 

There was something so dramatic, so theatrical, in the whole proceeding, that up to the present time we had all stood waiting for the_denouement_ in silence. Now we knew what it was to be, and the menbegan to talk. 

"He's a-goin' to shoot the gourd from the hand of the gal, " suggested ahunter. 

"No great shot, after all, " added another; and indeed this was thesilent opinion of most on the ground. 

"Wagh! it don't beat Garey if he diz hit it, " exclaimed a third. 

What was our amazement at seeing the girl fling off her plumed bonnet, place the gourd upon her head, fold her arms over her bosom, andstanding fronting us as calm and immobile as if she had been carved uponthe tree!

There was a murmur in the crowd. The Indian was raising his rifle totake aim, when a man rushed forward to prevent him. It was Garey!

"No, yer don't! No!" cried he, clutching the levelled rifle; "she'sdeceived me, that's plain, but I won't see the gal that once loved me, or said she did, in the trap that a-way. No! Bill Garey ain't a-goin'to stand by and see it. "

"What is this?" shouted the Indian, in a voice of thunder. "Who daresto interrupt me?"

"I dares, " replied Garey. "She's yourn now, I suppose. You may takeher whar ye like; and take this too, " continued he, tearing off theembroidered pipe-case, and flinging it at the Indian's feet; "but ye'renot a-goin' to shoot her down whiles I stand by. "

"By what right do you interrupt me? My sister is not afraid, and--"

"Your sister!"

"Yes, my sister. "

"And is yon gal your sister?" eagerly inquired Garey, his manner and theexpression of his countenance all at once changing. 

"She is. I have said she is. "

"And are you El Sol?"

"I am. "

"I ask your pardon; but--"

"I pardon you. Let me proceed!"

"Oh, sir, do not. No! no! She is your sister, and I know you have theright, but thar's no needcessity. I have heerd of your shootin'. Igive in; you kin beat me. For God's sake, do not risk it; as you carefor her, do not!"

"There is no risk. I will show you. "

"No, no! If you must, then, let me! I will hold it. Oh, let me!"stammered the hunter, in tones of entreaty. 

"Hollo, Billee! What's the dratted rumpus?" cried Rube, coming up. "Hang it, man! let's see the shot. I've heern o' it afore. Don't beskeert, ye fool! he'll do it like a breeze; he will!"

And as the old trapper said this he caught his comrade by the arm, andswung him round out of the Indian's way. 

The girl, during all this, had stood still, seemingly not knowing thecause of the interruption. Garey's back was turned to her, and thedistance, with two years of separation, doubtless prevented her fromrecognising him. 

Before Garey could turn to interpose himself, the rifle was at theIndian's shoulder and levelled. His finger was on the trigger, and hiseyes glanced through the sights. It was too late to interfere. Anyattempt at that might bring about the dreaded result. The hunter, as heturned, saw this, and halting in his tracks, stood straining and silent. 

It was a moment of terrible suspense to all of us--a moment of intenseemotion. The silence was profound. Every breath seemed suspended;every eye was fixed on the yellow object, not larger, I have said, thanan orange. Oh, God! will the shot never come?

It came. The flash, the crack, the stream of fire, the wild hurrah, theforward rush, were all simultaneous things. We saw the shivered globefly off. The girl was still upon her feet; she was safe!

I ran with the rest. The smoke for a moment blinded me. I heard theshrill notes of the Indian whistle. I looked before me. The girl haddisappeared. 

We ran to the spot where she had stood. We heard a rustling in theunderwood, a departing footstep. We knew it was she; but guided by aninstinct of delicacy, and a knowledge that it would be contrary to thewish of her brother, no one followed her. 

We found the fragments of the calabash strewed over the ground. Wefound the leaden mark upon them. The bullet itself was buried in thebark of the tree, and one of the hunters commenced digging it out withthe point of his bowie. 

When we turned to go back we saw that the Indian had walked away, andnow stood chatting easily and familiarly with Seguin. 

As we re-entered the camp-ground I observed Garey stoop and pick up ashining object. It was the _gage d'amour_, which he carefullyreadjusted around his neck in its wonted position. 

From his look and the manner in which he handled it, it was plain thathe now regarded that souvenir with more reverence than ever. 

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. 

A FEAT A LA TAIL. 

I had fallen into a sort of reverie. My mind was occupied with theincidents I had just witnessed, when a voice, which I recognised as thatof old Rube, roused me from my abstraction. 

"Look'ee hyur, boyees! Tain't of'n as ole Rube wastes lead, but I'llbeat that Injun's shot, or 'ee may cut my ears off. "

A loud laugh hailed this allusion of the trapper to his ears, which, aswe have observed, were already gone; and so closely had they beentrimmed that nothing remained for either knife or shears to accomplish. 

"How will you do it, Rube?" cried one of the hunters; "shoot the markoff a yer own head?"

"I'll let 'ee see if 'ee wait, " replied Rube, stalking up to a tree, andtaking from its rest a long, heavy rifle, which he proceeded to wipe outwith care. 

The attention of all was now turned to the manoeuvres of the oldtrapper. Conjecture was busy as to his designs. What feat could heperform that would eclipse the one just witnessed? No one could guess. 

"I'll beat it, " continued he, muttering, as he loaded his piece, "or 'eemay chop the little finger off ole Rube's right paw. "

Another peal of laughter followed, as all perceived that this was thefinger that was wanting. 

"'Ee--es, " continued he, looking at the faces that were around him, "'eemay scalp me if I don't. "

This last remark elicited fresh roars of laughter; for although thecat-skin was closely drawn upon his head, all present knew that old Rubewas minus his scalp. 

"But how are ye goin' to do it? Tell us that, old hoss!"

"'Ee see this, do 'ee?" asked the trapper, holding out a small fruit ofthe cactus pitahaya, which he had just plucked and cleaned of itsspikelets. 

"Ay, ay, " cried several voices, in reply. 

"'Ee do, do 'ee? Wal; 'ee see 'tain't half as big as the Injun'ssquash. 'Ee see that, do 'ee?"

"Oh, sartinly! Any fool can see that. "

"Wal; s'pose I plug it at sixty, plump centre?"

"Wagh!" cried several, with shrugs of disappointment. 

"Stick it on a pole, and any o' us can do that, " said the principalspeaker. "Here's Barney could knock it off wid his owld musket. Couldn't you, Barney?"

"In truth, an' I could thry, " answered a very small man, leaning upon amusket, and who was dressed in a tattered uniform that had once beensky-blue. I had already noticed this individual with some curiosity, partly struck with his peculiar costume, but more particularly onaccount of the redness of his hair, which was the reddest I had everseen. It bore the marks of a severe barrack discipline--that is, it hadbeen shaved, and was now growing out of his little round head short andthick, and coarse in the grain, and of the colour of a scraped carrot. There was no possibility of mistaking Barney's nationality. In trapperphrase, any fool could have told that. 

What had brought such an individual to such a place? I asked thisquestion, and was soon enlightened. He had been a soldier in a frontierpost, one of Uncle Sam's "Sky-blues. " He had got tired of pork andpipe-clay, accompanied with a too liberal allowance of the hide. In aword, Barney was a deserter. What his name was, I know not, but he wentunder the appellation of O'Cork--Barney O'Cork. 

A laugh greeted his answer to the hunter's question. 

"Any o' us, " continued the speaker, "could plug the persimmon that away. But thar's a mighty heap o' diff'rence when you squints thro'hind-sights at a girl like yon. "

"Ye're right, Dick, " said another hunter; "it makes a fellow feel queeryabout the jeints. "

"Holy vistment! An' wasn't she a raal beauty?" exclaimed the littleIrishman, with an earnestness in his manner that set the trappersroaring again. 

"Pish!" cried Rube, who had now finished loading, "yur a set o'channering fools; that's what 'ee ur. Who palavered about a post? I'vegot an ole squaw as well's the Injun. She'll hold the thing for thischild--she will. "

"Squaw! You a squaw?"

"Yes, hoss; I has a squaw I wudn't swop for two o' his'n. I'll maketracks an' fetch the old 'oman. Shet up yur heads, an' wait, will ye?"

So saying, the smoky old sinner shouldered his rifle, and walked offinto the woods. 

I, in common with others, late comers, who were strangers to Rube, beganto think that he had an "old 'oman. " There were no females to be seenabout the encampment, but perhaps she was hid away in the woods. Thetrappers, however, who knew him, seemed to understand that the oldfellow had some trick in his brain; and that, it appeared, was no newthing for him. 

We were not kept long in suspense. In a few minutes Rube was seenreturning, and by his side the "old 'oman, " in the shape of a long, lank, bare-ribbed, high-boned mustang, that turned out on closeinspection to be a mare! This, then, was Rube's squaw, and she was notat all unlike him, excepting the ears. She was long-eared, in commonwith all her race: the same as that upon which Quixote charged thewindmill. The long ears caused her to look mulish, but it was only inappearance; she was a pure mustang when you examined her attentively. She seemed to have been at an earlier period of that dun-yellowishcolour known as "clay-bank, " a common colour among Mexican horses; buttime and scars had somewhat metamorphosed her, and grey hairspredominated all over, particularly about the head and neck. Theseparts were covered with a dirty grizzle of mixed hues. She was badlywind-broken; and at stated intervals of several minutes each, her back, from the spasmodic action of the lungs, heaved up with a jerk, as thoughshe were trying to kick with her hind legs, and couldn't. She was asthin as a rail, and carried her head below the level of her shoulders;but there was something in the twinkle of her solitary eye (for she hadbut one), that told you she had no intention of giving up for a longtime to come. She was evidently game to the backbone. 

Such was the "old 'oman" Rube had promised to fetch; and she was greetedby a loud laugh as he led her up. 

"Now, look'ee hyur, boyees, " said he, halting in front of the crowd. "Ee may larf, an' gabble, an' grin till yur sick in the guts--yur may!but this child's a-gwine to take the shine out o' that Injun's shot--heis, or bust a-tryin'. "

Several of the bystanders remarked that that was likely enough, and thatthey only waited to see in what manner it was to be done. No one whoknew him doubted old Rube to be, as in fact he was, one of the very bestmarksmen in the mountains--fully equal, perhaps, to the Indian; but itwas the style and circumstances which had given such _eclat_ to the shotof the latter. It was not every day that a beautiful girl could befound to stand fire as the squaw had done; and it was not every hunterwho would have ventured to fire at a mark so placed. The strength ofthe feat lay in its newness and peculiarity. The hunters had oftenfired at the mark held in one another's hands. There were few who wouldlike to carry it on their head. How, then, was Rube to "take the shineout o' that Injun's shot"? This was the question that each was askingthe other, and which was at length put directly to Rube himself. 

"Shet up your meat-traps, " answered he, "an I'll show 'ee. In the fustplace, then, 'ee all see that this hyur prickly ain't more'n hef size o'the squash?"

"Yes, sartainly, " answered several voices. "That wur one sukumstance inhis favour. Wa'nt it?"

"It wur! it wur!"

"Wal, hyur's another. The Injun, 'ee see, shot his mark off o' thehead. Now, this child's a-gwine to knock his'n off o' the tail. Kudyur Injun do that? Eh, boyees?"

"No, no!"

"Do that beat him, or do it not, then?"

"It beats him!"

"It does!"

"Far better!"

"Hooray!" vociferated several voices, amidst yells of laughter. No onedissented, as the hunters, pleased with the joke, were anxious to see itcarried through. 

Rube did not detain them long. Leaving his rifle in the hands of hisfriend Garey, he led the old mare up towards the spot that had beenoccupied by the Indian girl. Reaching this, he halted. 

We all expected to see him turn the animal with her side towards us, thus leaving her body out of range. It soon became evident that thiswas not the old fellow's intention. It would have spoiled the look ofthe thing, had he done so; and that idea was no doubt running in hismind. 

Choosing a place where the ground chanced to be slightly hollowed out, he led the mustang forward, until her fore feet rested in the hollow. The tail was thus thrown above the body. 

Having squared her hips to the camp, he whispered something at her head;and going round to the hind quarters, adjusted the pear upon the highestcurve of the stump. He then came walking back. 

Would the mare stand? No fear of that. She had been trained to standin one place for a longer period than was now required of her. 

The appearance which the old mare exhibited, nothing visible but herhind legs and buttocks, for the mules had stripped her tail of the hair, had by this time wound the spectators up to the risible point, and mostof them were yelling. 

"Stop yur giggle-goggle, wull yur!" said Rube, clutching his rifle, andtaking his stand. The laughter was held in, no one wishing to disturbthe shot. 

"Now, old Tar-guts, don't waste your fodder!" muttered the trapper, addressing his gun, which the next moment was raised and levelled. 

No one doubted but that Rube would hit the object at which he wasaiming. It was a shot frequently made by western riflemen; that is, amark of the same size at sixty yards. And no doubt Rube would have doneit; but just at the moment of his pulling trigger the mare's back heavedup in one of its periodic jerks, and the pitahaya fell to the ground. 

But the ball had sped; and grazing the animal's shoulder, passed throughone of her ears!

The direction of the bullet was not known until afterwards, but itseffect was visible at once; for the mare, stung in her tenderest part, uttered a sort of human-like scream, and wheeling about, came leapinginto camp, kicking over everything that happened to lie in her way. 

The yells and loud laughing of the trappers, the odd ejaculations of theIndians, the "vayas" and "vivas" of the Mexicans, the wild oaths of oldRube himself, all formed a medley of sounds that fell strangely upon theear, and to give an idea of which is beyond the art of my pen. 

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. 

THE PROGRAMME. 

Shortly after, I was wandering out to the caballada to look after myhorse, when the sound of a bugle fell upon my ear. It was the signalfor the men to assemble, and I turned back towards the camp. 

As I re-entered it, Seguin was standing near his tent, with the buglestill in his hand. The hunters were gathering around him. 

They were soon all assembled, and stood in groups, waiting for the chiefto speak. 

"Comrades!" said Seguin, "to-morrow we break up this camp for anexpedition against the enemy. I have brought you together that you mayknow my plans and lend me your advice. "

A murmur of applause followed this announcement. The breaking up of acamp is always joyous news to men whose trade is war. It seemed to havea like effect upon this motley group of guerilleros. 

The chief continued--

"It is not likely that you will have much fighting. Our dangers will bethose of the desert; but we will endeavour to provide against them inthe best manner possible. 

"I have learned, from a reliable source, that our enemies are at thisvery time about starting upon a grand expedition to plunder the towns ofSonora and Chihuahua. 

"It is their intention, if not met by the Government troops, to extendtheir foray to Durango itself. Both tribes have combined in thismovement; and it is believed that all the warriors will proceedsouthward, leaving their country unprotected behind them. 

"It is my intention then, as soon as I can ascertain that they have goneout, to enter their territory, and pierce to the main town of theNavajoes. "

"Bravo!" "Hooray!" "Bueno!" "Tres bien!" "Good as wheat!" andnumerous other exclamations, hailed this declaration. 

"Some of you know my object in making this expedition. Others do not. I will declare it to you all. It is, then, to--"

"Git a grist of scalps; what else?" cried a rough, brutal-lookingfellow, interrupting the chief. 

"No, Kirker!" replied Seguin, bending his eye upon the man, with anexpression of anger. "It is not that. We expect to meet only women. On his peril let no man touch a hair upon the head of an Indian woman. I shall pay for no scalps of women or children. "

"Where, then, will be your profits? We cannot bring them prisoners?We'll have enough to do to get back ourselves, I reckon, across themdeserts. "

These questions seemed to express the feelings of others of the band, who muttered their assent. 

"You shall lose nothing. Whatever prisoners you take shall be countedon the ground, and every man shall be paid according to his number. When we return I will make that good. "

"Oh! that's fair enough, captain, " cried several voices. 

"Let it be understood, then, no women nor children. The plunder youshall have, it is yours by our laws, but no blood that can be spared. There is enough on our hands already. Do you all bind yourselves tothis?"

"Yes, yes!" "Si!" "Oui, oui!" "Ya, ya!" "All!" "Todos, todos!"cried a multitude of voices, each man answering in his own language. 

"Let those who do not agree to it speak. "

A profound silence followed this proposal. All had bound themselves tothe wishes of their leader. 

"I am glad that you are unanimous. I will now state my purpose fully. It is but just you should know it. "

"Ay, let us know that, " muttered Kirker, "if tain't to raise har we'regoin'. "

"We go, then, to seek for our friends and relatives, who for years havebeen captives to our savage enemy. There are many among us who havelost kindred, wives, sisters, and daughters. "

A murmur of assent, uttered chiefly by men in Mexican costume, testifiedto the truth of this statement. 

"I myself, " continued Seguin, and his voice slightly trembled as hespoke, "am among that number. Years, long years ago, I was robbed of mychild by the Navajoes. I have lately learned that she is still alive, and at their head town with many other white captives. We go, then, torelease and restore them to their friends and homes. "

A shout of approbation broke from the crowd, mingled with exclamationsof "Bravo!" "We'll fetch them back!" "Vive le capitaine!" "Viva elgefe!"

When silence was restored, Seguin continued--

"You know our purpose. You have approved it. I will now make known toyou the plan I had designed for accomplishing it, and listen to youradvice. "

Here the chief paused a moment, while the men remained silent andwaiting. 

"There are three passes, " continued he at length, "by which we mightenter the Indian country from this side. There is, first, the route ofthe Western Puerco. That would lead us direct to the Navajo towns. "

"And why not take that way?" asked one of the hunters, a Mexican. "Iknow the route well, as far as the Pecos towns. "

"Because we could not pass the Pecos towns without being seen by Navajospies. There are always some of them there. Nay, more, " continuedSeguin, with a look that expressed a hidden meaning, "we could not getfar up the Del Norte itself before the Navajoes would be warned of ourapproach. We have enemies nearer home. "

"Carrai! that is true, " said a hunter, speaking in Spanish. 

"Should they get word of our coming, even though the warriors had gonesouthward, you can see that we would have a journey for nothing. "

"True, true!" shouted several voices. 

"For the same reason, we cannot take the pass of Polvidera. Besides, atthis season, there is but little prospect of game on either of theseroutes. We are not prepared for an expedition with our present supply. We must pass through a game-country before we can enter on the desert. "

"That is true, captain; but there is as little game to be met if we goby the old mine. What other road, then, can we take?"

"There is still another route better than all, I think. We will strikesouthward, and then west across the Llanos to the old mission. Fromthence we can go north into the Apache country. "

"Yes, yes; that is the best way, captain. "

"We will have a longer journey, but with advantages. We will find thewild cattle or the buffaloes upon the Llanos. Moreover, we will makesure of our time, as we can `cache' in the Pinon Hills that overlook theApache war-trail, and see our enemies pass out. When they have gonesouth, we can cross the Gila, and keep up the Azul or Prieto. Havingaccomplished the object of our expedition, we may then return homewardby the nearest route. "

"Bravo!" "Viva!" "That's jest right, captain!"

"That's clarly our best plan!" were a few among the many forms by whichthe hunters testified their approval of the programme. There was nodissenting voice. The word "Prieto" struck like music upon their ears. That was a magic word: the name of the far-famed river on whose watersthe trapper legends had long placed the El Dorado, "the mountain ofgold. " Many a story of this celebrated region had been told at thehunters' camp-fire, all agreeing in one point: that there the gold layin "lumps" upon the surface of the ground, and filled the rivers withits shining grains. Often had the trappers talked of an expedition tothis unknown land; and small parties were said to have actually enteredit, but none of these adventurers had ever been known to return. 

The hunters saw now, for the first time, the prospect of penetratingthis region with safety, and their minds were filled with fancies wildand romantic. Not a few of them had joined Seguin's band in hopes thatsome day this very expedition might be undertaken, and the "goldenmountain" reached. What, then, were their feelings when Seguin declaredhis purpose of travelling by the Prieto! At the mention of it a buzz ofpeculiar meaning ran through the crowd, and the men turned to each otherwith looks of satisfaction. 

"To-morrow, then, we shall march, " added the chief. "Go now and makeyour preparations; we start by daybreak. "

As Seguin ceased speaking, the hunters departed, each to look after his"traps and possibles"; a duty soon performed, as these rude rangers werebut little encumbered with camp equipage. 

I sat down upon a log, watching for some time the movements of my wildcompanions, and listening to their rude and Babel-like converse. 

At length arrived sunset, or night, for they are almost synonymous inthese latitudes. Fresh logs were flung upon the fires, till they blazedup. The men sat around them, cooking, eating, smoking, talking loudly, and laughing at stories that illustrated their own wild habits. The redlight fell upon fierce, dark faces, now fiercer and more swarthy underthe glare of the burning cotton-wood. 

By its light the savage expression was strengthened on everycountenance. Beards looked darker, and teeth gleamed whiter throughthem. Eyes appeared more sunken, and their glances more brilliant andfiend-like. Picturesque costumes met the eye: turbans, Spanish hats, plumes, and mottled garments; escopettes and rifles leaning against thetrees; saddles, high-peaked, resting upon logs and stumps; bridleshanging from the branches overhead; strings of jerked meat drooping infestoons in front of the tents, and haunches of venison still smokingand dripping their half-coagulated drops!

The vermilion smeared on the foreheads of the Indian warriors gleamed inthe night light as though it were blood. It was a picture at oncesavage and warlike--warlike, but with an aspect of ferocity at which thesensitive heart drew back. It was a picture such as may be seen only ina bivouac of guerilleros, of brigands, of man-hunters. 

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. 

EL SOL AND LA LUNA. 

"Come, " said Seguin, touching me on the arm, "our supper is ready; I seethe doctor beckoning us. " I was not slow to answer the call, for thecool air of the evening had sharpened my appetite. We approached thetent, in front of which was a fire. 

Over this, the doctor, assisted by Gode and a pueblo peon, was justgiving the finishing touch to a savoury supper. 

Part of it had already been carried inside the tent. We followed it, and took our seats upon saddles, blankets, and packs. 

"Why, doctor, " said Seguin, "you have proved yourself a perfect _maitrede cuisine_ to-night. This is a supper for a Lucullus. "

"Ach! mein captain, ich have goet help; Meinherr Gode assist me mostwonderful. "

"Well, Mr Haller and I will do full justice to your dishes. Let us tothem at once!"

"Oui, oui! bien, Monsieur Capitaine, " said Gode, hurrying in with amultitude of viands. The "Canadien" was always in his element whenthere was plenty to cook and eat. 

We were soon engaged on fresh steaks (of wild cows), roasted ribs ofvenison, dried buffalo tongues, tortillas, and coffee. The coffee andtortillas were the labours of the pueblo, in the preparation of whichviands he was Gode's master. 

But Gode had a choice dish, _un petit morceau_, in reserve, which hebrought forth with a triumphant flourish. 

"Voici, messieurs?" cried he, setting it before us. 

"What is it, Gode?"

"Une fricassee, monsieur. "

"Of what?"

"Les frog; what de Yankee call boo-frog!"

"A fricassee of bull-frogs!"

"Oui, oui, mon maitre. Voulez vous?"

"No, thank you!"

"I will trouble you, Monsieur Gode, " said Seguin. 

"Ich, ich, mein Gode; frocks ver goot;" and the doctor held out hisplatter to be helped. 

Gode, in wandering by the river, had encountered a pond of giant frogs, and the fricassee was the result. I had not then overcome my nationalantipathy to the victims of Saint Patrick's curse; and, to thevoyageur's astonishment, I refused to share the dainty. 

During our supper conversation I gathered some facts of the doctor'shistory, which, with what I had already learned, rendered the old man anobject of extreme interest to me. 

Up to this time, I had wondered what such a character could be doing insuch company as that of the Scalp-hunters. I now learned a few detailsthat explained all. 

His name was Reichter--Friedrich Reichter. He was a Strasburgher, andin the city of bells had been a medical practitioner of some repute. The love of science, but particularly of his favourite branch, botany, had lured him away from his Rhenish home. He had wandered to the UnitedStates, then to the Far West, to classify the flora of that remoteregion. He had spent several years in the great valley of theMississippi; and, falling in with one of the Saint Louis caravans, hadcrossed the prairies to the oasis of New Mexico. In his scientificwanderings along the Del Norte he had met with the Scalp-hunters, and, attracted by the opportunity thus afforded him of penetrating intoregions hitherto unexplored by the devotees of science, he had offeredto accompany the band. This offer was gladly accepted on account of hisservices as their medico; and for two years he had been with them, sharing their hardships and dangers. 

Many a scene of peril had he passed through, many a privation had heundergone, prompted by a love of his favourite study, and perhaps, too, by the dreams of future triumph, when he would one day spread hisstrange flora before the _savants_ of Europe. Poor Reichter! PoorFriedrich Reichter! yours was the dream of a dream; it never became areality!

Our supper was at length finished, and washed down with a bottle of Pasowine. There was plenty of this, as well as Taos whisky in theencampment; and the roars of laughter that reached us from withoutproved that the hunters were imbibing freely of the latter. 

The doctor drew out his great meerschaum, Gode filled a red claystone, while Seguin and I lit our husk cigarettes. 

"But tell me, " said I, addressing Seguin, "who is the Indian?--he whoperformed the wild feat of shooting the--"

"Ah! El Sol; he is a Coco. "

"A Coco?"

"Yes; of the Maricopa tribe. "

"But that makes me no wiser than before. I knew that much already. "

"You knew it? Who told you?"

"I heard old Rube mention the fact to his comrade Garey. "

"Ay, true; he should know him. " Seguin remained silent. 

"Well?" continued I, wishing to learn more. "Who are the Maricopas? Ihave never heard of them. "

"It is a tribe but little known, a nation of singular men. They arefoes of the Apache and Navajo; their country lies down the Gila. Theycame originally from the Pacific, from the shores of the CalifornianSea. "

"But this man is educated, or seems so. He speaks English and French aswell as you or I. He appears to be talented, intelligent, polite--inshort, a gentleman. "

"He is all you have said. "

"I cannot understand this. "

"I will explain to you, my friend. That man was educated at one of themost celebrated universities in Europe. He has travelled farther andthrough more countries, perhaps, than either of us. "

"But how did he accomplish all this? An Indian!"

"By the aid of that which has often enabled very little men (though ElSol is not one of those) to achieve very great deeds, or at least to getthe credit of having done so. By gold. "

"Gold! and where got he the gold? I have been told that there is verylittle of it in the hands of Indians. The white men have robbed them ofall they once had. "

"That is in general a truth; and true of the Maricopas. There was atime when they possessed gold in large quantities, and pearls too, gathered from the depths of the Vermilion Sea. It is gone. The Jesuitpadres could tell whither. "

"But this man? El Sol?"

"He is a chief. He has not lost all his gold. He still holds enough toserve him, and it is not likely that the padres will coax it from himfor either beads or vermilion. No; he has seen the world, and haslearnt the all-pervading value of that shining metal. "

"But his sister?--is she, too, educated?"

"No. Poor Luna is still a savage; but he instructs her in many things. He has been absent for several years. He has returned but lately to histribe. "

"Their names are strange: `The Sun, ' `The Moon'!"

"They were given by the Spaniards of Sonora; but they are onlytranslations or synonyms of their Indian appellations. That is commonupon the frontier. "

"Why are they here?"

I put this question with hesitation, as I knew there might be somepeculiar history connected with the answer. 

"Partly, " replied Seguin, "from gratitude, I believe, to myself. Irescued El Sol when a boy out of the hands of the Navajoes. Perhapsthere is still another reason. But come, " continued he, apparentlywishing to give a turn to the conversation, "you shall know our Indianfriends. You are to be companions for a time. He is a scholar, andwill interest you. Take care of your heart with the gentle Luna. Vincente, go to the tent of the Coco chief. Ask him to come and drink acup of Paso wine. Tell him to bring his sister with him. "

The servant hurried away through the camp. While he was gone, weconversed about the feat which the Coco had performed with his rifle. 

"I never knew him to fire, " remarked Seguin, "without hitting his mark. There is something mysterious about that. His aim is unerring; and itseems to be on his part an act of pure volition. There may be someguiding principle in the mind, independent of either strength of nerveor sharpness of sight. He and another are the only persons I ever knewto possess this singular power. "

The last part of this speech was uttered in a half soliloquy; andSeguin, after delivering it, remained for some moments silent andabstracted. 

Before the conversation was resumed, El Sol and his sister entered thetent, and Seguin introduced us to each other. In a few moments we wereengaged, El Sol, the doctor, Seguin, and myself, in an animatedconversation. The subject was not horses, nor guns, nor scalps, norwar, nor blood, nor aught connected with the horrid calling of thatcamp. We were discussing a point in the pacific science of botany: therelationship of the different forms of the cactus family. 

I had studied the science, and I felt that my knowledge of it wasinferior to that of any of my three companions. I was struck with itthen, and more when I reflected on it afterwards; the fact of such aconversation, the time, the place, and the men who carried it on. 

For nearly two hours we sat smoking and talking on like subjects. 

While we were thus engaged I observed upon the canvas the shadow of aman. Looking forth, as my position enabled me without rising, Irecognised in the light that streamed out of the tent a hunting-shirt, with a worked pipe-holder hanging over the breast. 

La Luna sat near her brother, sewing "parfleche" soles upon a pair ofmoccasins. I noticed that she had an abstracted air, and at shortintervals glanced out from the opening of the tent. While we wereengrossed with our discussion she rose silently, though not with anyappearance of stealth, and went out. 

After a while she returned. I could read the love-light in her eye asshe resumed her occupation. 

El Sol and his sister at length left us, and shortly after Seguin, thedoctor, and I rolled ourselves in our serapes, and lay down to sleep. 

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. 

THE WAR-TRAIL. 

The band was mounted by the earliest dawn, and as the notes of the bugledied away our horses plashed through the river, crossing to the otherside. We soon debouched from the timber bottom, coming out upon sandyplains that stretched westward to the Mibres Mountains. We rode overthese plains in a southerly direction, climbing long ridges of sand thattraversed them from east to west. The drift lay in deep furrows, andour horses sank above the fetlocks as we journeyed. We were crossingthe western section of the Jornada. 

We travelled in Indian file. Habit has formed this disposition amongIndians and hunters on the march. The tangled paths of the forest, andthe narrow defiles of the mountains admit of no other. Even whenpassing a plain, our cavalcade was strung out for a quarter of a mile. The atajo followed in charge of the arrieros. 

For the first day of our march we kept on without nooning. There wasneither grass nor water on the route; and a halt under the hot sun wouldnot have refreshed us. 

Early in the afternoon a dark line became visible, stretching across theplain. As we drew nearer, a green wall rose before us, and wedistinguished the groves of cotton-wood. The hunters knew it to be thetimber on the Paloma. We were soon passing under the shade of itsquivering canopy, and reaching the banks of a clear stream, we haltedfor the night. 

Our camp was formed without either tents or lodges. Those used on theDel Norte had been left behind in "cache. " An expedition like ourscould not be cumbered with camp baggage. Each man's blanket was hishouse, his bed, and his cloak. 

Fires were kindled, and ribs roasted; and fatigued with our journey (thefirst day's ride has always this effect), we were soon wrapped in ourblankets and sleeping soundly. 

We were summoned next morning by the call of the bugle soundingreveille. The band partook somewhat of a military organisation, andeveryone understood the signals of light cavalry. 

Our breakfast was soon cooked and eaten; our horses were drawn fromtheir pickets, saddled, and mounted; and at another signal we movedforward on the route. 

The incidents of our first journey were repeated, with but littlevariety, for several days in succession. We travelled through a desertcountry, here and there covered with wild sage and mezquite. 

We passed on our route clumps of cacti, and thickets of creosote bushes, that emitted their foul odours as we crushed through them. On thefourth evening we camped at a spring, the Ojo de Vaca, lying on theeastern borders of the Llanos. 

Over the western section of this great prairie passes the Apachewar-trail, running southward into Sonora. Near the trail, andoverlooking it, a high mountain rises out of the plain. It is thePinon. 

It was our design to reach this mountain, and "cacher" among the rocks, near a well-known spring, until our enemies should pass; but to effectthis we would have to cross the war-trail, and our own tracks wouldbetray us. Here was a difficulty which had not occurred to Seguin. There was no other point except the Pinon from which we could certainlysee the enemy on their route and be ourselves hidden. This mountain, then, must be reached; and how were we to effect it without crossing thetrail?

After our arrival at Ojo de Vaca, Seguin drew the men together todeliberate on this matter. 

"Let us spread, " said a hunter, "and keep wide over the paraira, tillwe've got clar past the Apash trail. They won't notice a single trackhyar and thyar, I reckin. "

"Ay, but they will, though, " rejoined another. "Do ye think an Injun'sa-goin' to pass a shod horse track 'ithout follerin' it up? No, siree!"

"We kin muffle the hoofs, as far as that goes, " suggested the firstspeaker. 

"Wagh! That ud only make it worse. I tried that dodge once afore, an'nearly lost my har for it. He's a blind Injun kin be fooled that away. 'Twon't do nohow. "

"They're not going to be so partickler when they're on the war-trail, Iwarrant ye. I don't see why it shouldn't do well enough. "

Most of the hunters agreed with the former speaker. The Indians wouldnot fail to notice so many muffled tracks, and suspect there wassomething in the wind. The idea of "muffling" was therefore abandoned. What next? The trapper Rube, who up to this time had said nothing, nowdrew the attention of all by abruptly exclaiming, "Pish!"

"Well! what have you to say, old hoss?" inquired one of the hunters. 

"Thet yur a set o' fools, one and all o' ee. I kud take the full o'that paraira o' hosses acrosst the 'Pash trail, 'ithout making a signthat any Injun's a-gwine to foller, particularly an Injun on thewar-beat as them is now. "

"How?" asked Seguin. 

"I'll tell yur how, cap, ev yur'll tell me what 'ee wants to cross thetrail for. "

"Why, to conceal ourselves in the Pinon range; what else?"

"An' how are 'ee gwine to `cacher' in the Peenyun 'ithout water?"

"There is a spring on the side of it, at the foot of the mountain. "

"That's true as Scripter. I knows that; but at that very spring theInjuns 'll cool their lappers as they go down south'ard. How are 'eegwine to get at it with this cavayard 'ithout makin' sign? This childdon't see that very clur. "

"You are right, Rube. We cannot touch the Pinon spring without leavingour marks too plainly; and it is the very place where the war-party maymake a halt. "

"I sees no confoundered use in the hul on us crossin' the paraira now. We kan't hunt buffler till they've passed, anyways. So it's thischild's idee that a dozen o' us 'll be enough to `cacher' in thePeenyun, and watch for the niggurs a-goin' south. A dozen mout do itsafe enough, but not the hul cavayard. "

"And would you have the rest to remain here?"

"Not hyur. Let 'em go north'ard from hyur, and then strike west throughthe Musquite Hills. Thur's a crick runs thur, about twenty mile or sothis side the trail. They can git water and grass, and `cacher' thurtill we sends for 'em. "

"But why not remain by this spring, where we have both in plenty?"

"Cap'n, jest because some o' the Injun party may take a notion in thurheads to kum this way themselves. I reckin we had better make blindtracks before leavin' hyur. "

The force of Rube's reasoning was apparent to all, and to none more thanSeguin himself. It was resolved to follow his advice at once. Thevidette party was told off; and the rest of the band, with the atajo, after blinding the tracks around the spring, struck off in anorth-westerly direction. 

They were to travel on to the Mezquite Hills, that lay some ten ortwelve miles to the north-west of the spring. There they were to"cacher" by a stream well known to several of them, and wait untilwarned to join us. 

The vidette party, of whom I was one, moved westward across the prairie. 

Rube, Garey, El Sol, and his sister, with Sanchez, a _ci-devant_bull-fighter, and half a dozen others, composed the party. Seguinhimself was our head and guide. 

Before leaving the Ojo de Vaca we had stripped the shoes off the horses, filling the nail-holes with clay, so that their tracks would be takenfor those of wild mustangs. Such were the precautions of men who knewthat their lives might be the forfeit of a single footprint. 

As we approached the point where the war-trail intersected the prairie, we separated and deployed to distances of half a mile each. In thismanner we rode forward to the Pinon mountain, where we came togetheragain, and turned northward along the foot of the range. 

It was sundown when we reached the spring, having ridden all day acrossthe plain. We descried it, as we approached, close in to the mountainfoot, and marked by a grove of cotton-woods and willows. We did nottake our horses near the water; but, having reached a defile in themountain, we rode into it, and "cached" them in a thicket of nut-pine. In this thicket we spent the night. 

With the first light of morning we made a reconnaissance of our cache. 

In front of us was a low ridge covered with loose rocks and stragglingtrees of the nut-pine. This ridge separated the defile from the plain;and from its top, screened by a thicket of the pines, we commanded aview of the water as well as the trail, and the Llanos stretching awayto the north, south, and east. It was just the sort of hiding-place werequired for our object. 

In the morning it became necessary to descend for water. For thispurpose we had provided ourselves with a mule-bucket and extra xuages. We visited the spring, and filled our vessels, taking care to leave notraces of out footsteps in the mud. 

We kept constant watch during the first day, but no Indians appeared. Deer and antelopes, with a small gang of buffaloes, came to thespring-branch to drink, and then roamed off again over the greenmeadows. It was a tempting sight, for we could easily have crept withinshot, but we dared not touch them. We knew that the Indian dogs wouldscent their slaughter. 

In the evening we went again for water, making the journey twice, as ouranimals began to suffer from thirst. We adopted the same precautions asbefore. 

Next day we again watched the horizon to the north with eager eyes. Seguin had a small pocket-glass, and we could see the prairie with itfor a distance of nearly thirty miles; but as yet no enemy could bedescried. 

The third day passed with a like result; and we began to fear that thewarriors had taken some other trail. 

Another circumstance rendered us uneasy. We had eaten nearly the wholeof our provisions, and were now chewing the raw nuts of the pinon. Wedared not kindle a fire to roast them. Indians can read the smoke at agreat distance. 

The fourth day arrived and still no sign on the horizon to the north. Our tasajo was all eaten, and we began to hunger. The nuts did notsatisfy us. The game was in plenty at the spring, and mottling thegrassy plain. One proposed to lie among the willows and shoot anantelope or a black-tailed deer, of which there were troops in theneighbourhood. 

"We dare not, " said Seguin; "their dogs would find the blood. It mightbetray us. "

"I can procure one without letting a drop, " rejoined a Mexican hunter. 

"How?" inquired several in a breath. 

The man pointed to his lasso. 

"But your tracks; you would make deep footmarks in the struggle?"

"We can blind them, captain, " rejoined the man. 

"You may try, then, " assented the chief. 

The Mexican unfastened the lasso from his saddle, and, taking acompanion, proceeded to the spring. They crept in among the willows, and lay in wait. We watched them from the ridge. 

They had not remained more than a quarter of an hour when a herd ofantelopes was seen approaching from the plain. These walked directlyfor the spring, one following the other in Indian file. They were soonclose in to the willows where the hunters had concealed themselves. Here they suddenly halted, throwing up their heads and snuffing the air. They had scented danger, but it was too late for the foremost to turnand lope off. 

"Yonder goes the lasso!" cried one. 

We saw the noose flying in the air and settling over his head. The herdsuddenly wheeled, but the loop was around the neck of their leader; andafter three or four skips, he sprang up, and falling upon his back, laymotionless. 

The hunter came out from the willows, and, taking up the animal, nowchoked dead, carried him towards the entrance of the defile. Hiscompanion followed, blinding the tracks of both. In a few minutes theyhad reached us. The antelope was skinned, and eaten raw, in the blood!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Our horses grow thin with hunger and thirst. We fear to go too often tothe water, though we become less cautious as the hours pass. Two moreantelopes are lassoed by the expert hunter. 

The night of the fourth day is clear moonlight. The Indians often marchby moonlight, particularly when on the war-trail. We keep our videttestationed during the night as in the day. On this night we look outwith more hopes than usual. It is such a lovely night! a full moon, clear and calm. 

We are not disappointed. Near midnight the vidette awakes us. Thereare dark forms on the sky away to the north. It may be buffaloes, butwe see that they are approaching. 

We stand, one and all, straining our eyes through the white air, andaway over the silvery sward. There are glancing objects: arms it mustbe. "Horses! horsemen! They are Indians!"

"Oh, God! comrades, we are mad! Our horses: they may neigh!"

We bound after our leader down the hill, over the rocks, and through thetrees. We run for the thicket where our animals are tied. We may betoo late, for horses can hear each other miles off; and the slightestconcussion vibrates afar through the elastic atmosphere of these highplateaux. We reach the caballada. What is Seguin doing? He has tornthe blanket from under his saddle, and is muffling the head of hishorse!

We follow his example, without exchanging a word, for we know this isthe only plan to pursue. 

In a few minutes we feel secure again, and return to our watch-stationon the height. 

We had shaved our time closely; for, on reaching the hill-top, we couldhear the exclamations of Indians, the "thump, thump" of hoofs on thehard plain, and an occasional neigh, as their horses scented the water. The foremost were advancing to the spring; and we could see the longline of mounted men stretching in their deploying to the far horizon. 

Closer they came, and we could distinguish the pennons and glitteringpoints of their spears. We could see their half-naked bodies gleamingin the clear moonlight. 

In a short time the foremost of them had ridden up to the bushes, halting as they came, and giving their animals to drink. Then one byone they wheeled out of the water, and trotting a short distance overthe prairie, flung themselves to the ground, and commenced unharnessingtheir horses. 

It was evidently their intention to camp for the night. 

For nearly an hour they came filing forward, until two thousandwarriors, with their horses, dotted the plain below us. 

We stood observing their movements. We had no fear of being seenourselves. We were lying with our bodies behind the rocks, and ourfaces partially screened by the foliage of the pinon trees. We couldsee and hear with distinctness all that was passing, for the savageswere not over three hundred yards from our position. 

They proceed to picket their horses in a wide circle, far out on theplain. There the grama grass is longer and more luxuriant than in theimmediate neighbourhood of the spring. They strip the animals, andbring away their horse-furniture, consisting of hair bridles, buffalorobes, and skins of the grizzly bear. Few have saddles. Indians do notgenerally use them on a war expedition. 

Each man strikes his spear into the ground, and rests against it hisshield, bow, and quiver. He places his robe or skin beside it. That ishis tent and bed. 

The spears are soon aligned upon the prairie, forming a front of severalhundred yards; and thus they have pitched their camp with a quicknessand regularity far outstripping the Chasseurs of Vincennes. 

They are encamped in two parties. There are two bands, the Apache andNavajo. The latter is much the smaller, and rests farther off from ourposition. 

We hear them cutting and chopping with their tomahawks among thethickets at the foot of the mountain. We can see them carrying faggotsout upon the plain, piling them together, and setting them on fire. 

Many fires are soon blazing brightly. The savages squat around them, cooking their suppers. We can see the paint glittering on their facesand naked breasts. They are of many hues. Some are red, as though theywere smeared with blood. Some appear of a jetty blackness. Some blackon one side of the face, and red or white on the other. Some aremottled like hounds, and some striped and chequered. Their cheeks andbreasts are tattooed with the forms of animals: wolves, panthers, bears, buffaloes, and other hideous devices, plainly discernible under theblaze of the pine-wood fires. Some have a red hand painted on theirbosoms, and not a few exhibit as their device the death's head andcross-bones!

All these are their coats of arms, symbolical of the "medicine" of thewearer; adopted, no doubt, from like silly fancies to those which putthe crest upon the carriage, on the lackey's button, or the brass sealstamp of the merchant's clerk. 

There is vanity in the wilderness. In savage as in civilised life thereis a "snobdom. "

What do we see? Bright helmets, brazen and steel, with nodding plumesof the ostrich! These upon savages! Whence came these?

From the cuirassiers of Chihuahua. Poor devils! They were roughlyhandled upon one occasion by these savage lancers. 

We see the red meat spluttering over the fires upon spits of willowrods. We see the Indians fling the pinon nuts into the cinders, andthen draw them forth again, parched and smoking. We see them lighttheir claystone pipes, and send forth clouds of blue vapour. We seethem gesticulate as they relate their red adventures to one another. Wehear them shout, and chatter, and laugh like mountebanks. How unlikethe forest Indian!

For two hours we watch their movements, and listen to their voices. Then the horse-guard is detailed, and marches off to the caballada; andthe Indians, one after another, spread their skins, roll themselves intheir blankets, and sleep. 

The fires cease to blaze; but by the moonlight we can distinguish theprostrate bodies of the savages. White objects are moving among them. They are dogs prowling after the _debris_ of their supper. These runfrom point to point, snarling at one another, and barking at the coyotesthat sneak around the skirts of the camp. 

Out upon the prairie the horses are still awake and busy. We can hearthem stamping their hoofs and cropping the rich pasture. Erect formsare seen standing at intervals along the line. These are the guards ofthe caballada. 

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. 

THREE DAYS IN THE TRAP. 

Our attention was now turned to our own situation. Dangers anddifficulties suddenly presented themselves to our minds. 

"What if they should stay here to hunt?"

The thought seemed to occur to all of us at the same instant, and wefaced each other with looks of apprehension and dismay. 

"It is not improbable, " said Seguin, in a low and emphatic voice. "Itis plain they have no supply of meat, and how are they to pass to thesouth without it? They must hunt here or elsewhere. Why not here?"

"If so, we're in a nice trap!" interrupted a hunter, pointing first tothe embouchure of the defile and then to the mountain. "How are we toget out? I'd like to know that. "

Our eyes followed the direction indicated by the speaker. In front ofthe ravine in which we were, extended the line of the Indian camp, not ahundred yards distant from the rocks that lay around its entrance. There was an Indian sentinel still nearer; but it would be impossible topass out, even were he asleep, without encountering the dogs thatprowled in numbers around the camp. 

Behind us, the mountain rose vertically like a wall. It was plainlyimpassable. We were fairly "in the trap. "

"Carrai!" exclaimed one of the men, "we will die of hunger and thirst ifthey stay to hunt!"

"We may die sooner, " rejoined another, "if they take a notion in theirheads to wander up the gully. "

This was not improbable, though it was but little likely. The ravinewas a sort of _cul de sac_, that entered the mountain in a slantingdirection, and ended at the bottom of the cliff. There was no object toattract our enemies into it, unless indeed they might come up in searchof pinon nuts. Some of their dogs, too, might wander up, hunting forfood, or attracted by the scent of our horses. These wereprobabilities, and we trembled as each of them was suggested. 

"If they do not find us, " said Seguin, encouragingly, "we may live for aday or two on the pinons. When these fail us, one of our horses must bekilled. How much water have we?"

"Thank our luck, captain, the gourds are nearly full. "

"But our poor animals must suffer. "

"There is no danger of thirst, " said El Sol, looking downward, "whilethese last;" and he struck with his foot a large round mass that grewamong the rocks. It was the spheroidal cactus. "See!" continued he, "there are hundreds of them!"

All present knew the meaning of this, and regarded the cacti with amurmur of satisfaction. 

"Comrades!" said Seguin, "it is of no use to weary ourselves. Let thosesleep who can. One can keep watch yonder while another stays up here. Go, Sanchez!" and the chief pointed down the ravine to a spot thatcommanded a view of its mouth. 

The sentinel walked off, and took his stand in silence. The rest of usdescended, and after looking to the muffling of our horses, returned tothe station of the vidette upon the hill. Here we rolled ourselves inour blankets, and, lying down among the rocks, slept out the night. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

We were awake before dawn, and peering through the leaves with feelingsof keen solicitude. 

There is no movement in the Indian camp. It is a bad indication. Hadthey intended to travel on, they would have been stirring before this. They are always on the route before daybreak. These signs strengthenour feelings of apprehension. 

The grey light begins to spread over the prairie. There is a white bandalong the eastern sky. There are noises in the camp. There are voices. Dark forms move about among the upright spears. Tall savages strideover the plain. Their robes of skins are wrapped around their shouldersto protect them from the raw air of the morning. 

They carry faggots. They are rekindling the fires!

Our men talk in whispers, as we lie straining our eyes to catch everymovement. 

"It's plain they intend to make a stay of it. "

"Ay! we're in for it, that's sartin! Wagh! I wonder how long thara-goin' to squat hyar, any how. "

"Three days at the least: may be four or five. "

"Great gollies! we'll be froze in half the time. "

"What would they be doin' here so long? I warrant ye they'll clar outas soon as they can. "

"So they will; but how can they in less time?"

"They can get all the meat they want in a day. See! yonder's buffalo aplenty; look! away yonder!" and the speaker points to several blackobjects outlined against the brightening sky. It is a herd ofbuffaloes. 

"That's true enough. In half a day I warrant they kin get all the meatthey want: but how are they a-goin' to jirk it in less than three?That's what I want to know. "

"Es verdad!" says one of the Mexicans, a cibolero; "tres dias, almenos!" (It is true--three days, at the least!)

"Ay, hombre! an' with a smart chance o' sunshine at that, I guess. "

This conversation is carried on by two or three of the men in a lowtone, but loud enough for the rest of us to overhear it. 

It reveals a new phase of our dilemma on which we have not beforereflected. Should the Indians stay to "jerk" their meat, we will be inextreme danger from thirst, as well as of being discovered in our cache. 

We know that the process of jerking buffalo beef takes three days, andthat with a hot sun, as the hunter has intimated. This, with the firstday required for hunting, will keep us four days in the ravine!

The prospect is appalling. We feel that death or the extreme torture ofthirst is before us. We have no fear of hunger. Our horses are in thegrove, and our knives in our belts. We can, live for weeks upon them;but will the cacti assuage the thirst of men and horses for a period ofthree or four days? This is a question no one can answer. It has oftenrelieved the hunter for a short period, enabling him to crawl on to thewater; but for days!

The trial will soon commence. The day has fairly broken. The Indiansspring to their feet. About one-half of them draw the pickets of theirhorses, and lead them to the water. They adjust their bridles, pluck uptheir spears, snatch their bows, shoulder their quivers, and leap onhorseback. 

After a short consultation they gallop off to the eastward. In half anhour's time, we can see them running the buffalo far out upon theprairie: piercing them with their arrows, and impaling them on theirlong lances. 

Those who have remained behind lead their horses down to thespring-branch, and back again to the grass. Now they chop down youngtrees, and carry faggots to the fires. See! they are driving longstakes into the ground, and stretching ropes from one to the other. Forwhat purpose? We know too well. 

"Ha! look yonder!" mutters one of the hunters, as this is first noticed;"yonder goes the jerking-line! Now we're caged in airnest, I reckin. "

"Por todos santos, es verdad!"

"Carambo! carrajo! chingaro!" growls the cibolero, who well knows themeaning of those stakes and lines. 

We watch with a fearful interest the movements of the savages. 

We have now no longer any doubt of their intention to remain for severaldays. 

The stakes are soon erected, running for a hundred yards or more alongthe front of the encampment. The savages await the return of theirhunters. Some mount and scour off toward the scene of the buffalobattue, still going on, far out upon the plain. 

We peer through the leaves with great caution, for the day is bright, and the eyes of our enemies are quick, and scan every object. We speakonly in whispers, though our voices could not be heard if we conversed alittle louder, but fear makes us fancy that they might. We are allconcealed except our eyes. These glance through small loopholes in thefoliage. 

The Indian hunters have been gone about two hours. We now see themreturning over the prairie in straggling parties. 

They ride slowly back. Each brings his load before him on the withersof his horse. They have large masses of red flesh, freshly skinned andsmoking. Some carry the sides and quarters; others the hump-ribs, thetongue, the heart, and liver--the _petits morceaux_--wrapped up in theskins of the slaughtered animals. 

They arrive in camp, and fling their loads to the ground. 

Now begins a scene of noise and confusion. The savages run to and fro, whooping, chattering, laughing, and dancing. They draw their longscalping-knives, and hew off broad steaks. They spit them over theblazing fires. They cut out the hump-ribs. They tear off the whitefat, and stuff the boudins. They split the brown liver, eating it raw!They break the shanks with their tomahawks, and delve out the savourymarrow; and, through all these operations, they whoop, and chatter, andlaugh, and dance over the ground like so many madmen. 

This scene lasts for more than an hour. 

Fresh parties of hunters mount and ride off. Those who remain cut themeat into long thin strips, and hang it over the lines already preparedfor this purpose. It is thus left to be baked by the sun into "tasajo. "

We know part of what is before us. It is a fearful prospect; but menlike those who compose the band of Seguin do not despond while theshadow of a hope remains. It is a barren spot indeed, where they cannotfind resources. 

"We needn't holler till we're hurt, " says one of the hunters. 

"If yer call an empty belly a hurt, " rejoins another, "I've got italready. I kud jest eat a raw jackass 'ithout skinnin' him. "

"Come, fellers!" cries a third, "let's gramble for a meal o' thesepeenyuns. "

Following this suggestion, we commence searching for the nuts of thepine. We find to our dismay that there is but a limited supply of thisprecious food; not enough either on the trees or the ground to sustainus for two days. 

"By gosh!" exclaims one, "we'll have to draw for our critters. "

"Well, and if we have to--time enough yet a bit, I guess. We'll biteour claws a while first. "

The water is distributed in a small cup. There is still a little leftin the xuages; but our poor horses suffer. 

"Let us look to them, " says Seguin; and, drawing his knife, he commencesskinning one of the cacti. We follow his example. 

We carefully pare off the volutes and spikelets. A cool, gummy liquidexudes from the opened vessels. We break the short stems, and liftingthe green, globe-like masses, carry them to the thicket, and place thembefore our animals. These seize the succulent plants greedily, crunchthem between their teeth, and swallow both sap and fibres. It is foodand drink to them. Thank Heaven! we may yet save them!

This act is repeated several times, until they have had enough. 

We keep two videttes constantly on the look-out--one upon the hill, theother commanding the mouth of the defile. The rest of us go through theravine, along the sides of the ridge, in search of the cones of thepinon. 

Thus our first day is spent. 

The Indian hunters keep coming into their camp until a late hour, bringing with them their burdens of buffalo flesh. Fires blaze over theground, and the savages sit around them, cooking and eating, nearly allthe night. 

On the following day they do not rouse themselves until a late hour. Itis a day of lassitude and idleness; for the meat is hanging over thestrings, and they can only wait upon it. They lounge around the camp, mending their bridles and lassos, or looking to their weapons; they leadtheir horses to the water, and then picket them on fresh ground; theycut large pieces of meat, and broil them over the fires. Hundreds ofthem are at all times engaged in this last occupation. They seem to eatcontinually. 

Their dogs are busy, too, growling over the knife-stripped bones. Theyare not likely to leave their feast; they will not stray up the ravinewhile it lasts. In this thought we find consolation. 

The sun is hot all the second day, and scorches us in the dry defile. It adds to our thirst; but we do not regret, this so much, knowing itwill hasten the departure of the savages. Towards evening, the tasajobegins to look brown and shrivelled. Another such day and it will beready for packing. 

Our water is out, and we chew the succulent slices of the cactus. Theserelieve our thirst without quenching it. 

Our appetite of hunger is growing stronger. We have eaten all thepinons, and nothing remains but to slaughter one of our horses. 

"Let us hold out till to-morrow, " suggests one. "Give the poor brutes achance. Who knows but what they may flit in the morning?"

This proposition is voted in the affirmative. No hunter cares to risklosing his horse, especially when out upon the prairies. 

Gnawed by hunger, we lie waiting for the third day. 

The morning breaks at last, and we crawl forward as usual, to watch themovements of the camp. The savages sleep late, as on yesterday; butthey arouse themselves at length, and after watering their animals, commence cooking. We see the crimson streaks and the juicy ribs smokingover the fires, and the savoury odours are wafted to us on the breeze. Our appetites are whetted to a painful keenness. We can endure nolonger. A horse must die!

Whose? Mountain law will soon decide. 

Eleven white pebbles and a black one are thrown into the water-bucket, and one by one we are blinded and led forward. 

I tremble as I place my hand in the vessel. It is like throwing the diefor my own life. 

"Thank Heaven! my Moro is safe!"

One of the Mexicans has drawn the black. 

"Thar's luck in that!" exclaims a hunter. "Good fat mustang better thanpoor bull any day!"

The devoted horse is in fact a well-conditioned animal; and placing ourvidettes again, we proceed to the thicket to slaughter him. 

We set about it with great caution. We tie him to a tree, and hopplehis fore and hind feet, lest he may struggle. We propose bleeding himto death. 

The cibolero has unsheathed his long knife, while a man stands by, holding the bucket to catch the precious fluid: the blood. Some havecups in their hands, ready to drink it as it flows!

We were startled by an unusual sound. We look through the leaves. Alarge grey animal is standing by the edge of the thicket, gazing in atus. It is wolfish-looking. Is it a wolf? No. It is an Indian dog!

The knife is stayed; each man draws his own. We approach the animal, and endeavour to coax it nearer. But no; it suspects our intentions, utters a low growl, and runs away down the defile. 

We follow it with our eyes. The owner of the doomed horse is thevidette. The dog must pass him to get out, and he stands with his longlance ready to receive it. 

The animal sees himself intercepted, turns and runs back, and againturning, makes a desperate rush to pass the vidette. As he nears thelatter, he utters a loud howl. The next moment he is impaled upon thelance!

Several of us rush up the hill to ascertain if the howling has attractedthe attention of the savages. There is no unusual movement among them;they have not heard it. 

The dog is divided and devoured before his quivering flesh has time togrow cold! The horse is reprieved. 

Again we feed our animals on the cooling cactus. This occupies us forsome time. When we return to the hill a glad sight is before us. Wesee the warriors seated around their fires, renewing the paint upontheir bodies. 

We know the meaning of this. 

The tasajo is nearly black. Thanks to the hot sun, it will soon beready for packing!

Some of the Indians are engaged in poisoning the points of their arrows. All these signs inspire us with fresh courage. They will soon march;if not to-night, by daybreak on the morrow. 

We lie congratulating ourselves, and watching every movement of theircamp. Our hopes continue rising as the day falls. 

Ha! there is an unusual stir. Some order has been issued. "Voila!""Mira! mira!" "See!" "Look, look!" are the half-whispered ejaculationsthat break from the hunters as this is observed. 

"By the livin' catamount, thar a-going to mizzle!"

We see the savages pull down the tasajo and tie it in bunches. Thenevery man runs out for his horse; the pickets are drawn; the animals areled in and watered; they are bridled; the robes are thrown over them andgirthed. The warriors pluck up their lances, sling their quivers, seizetheir shields and bows, and leap lightly upon horseback. The nextmoment they form with the rapidity of thought, and wheeling in theirtracks, ride off in single file, heading to the southward. 

The larger band has passed. The smaller, the Navajoes, follow in thesame trail. No! The latter has suddenly filed to the left, and iscrossing the prairie towards the east, towards the spring of the Ojo deVaca. 

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. 

THE DIGGERS. 

Our first impulse was to rush down the ravine, satisfy our thirst at thespring, and our hunger on the half-polished bones that were strewed overthe prairie. Prudence, however, restrained us. 

"Wait till they're clar gone, " said Garey. "They'll be out o' sight inthree skips o' a goat. "

"Yes! stay where we are a bit, " added another; "some of them may rideback; something may be forgotten. "

This was not improbable; and in spite of the promptings of ourappetites, we resolved to remain a while longer in the defile. 

We descended straightway into the thicket to make preparations formoving--to saddle our horses and take off their mufflings, which by thistime had nearly blinded them. Poor brutes! they seemed to know thatrelief was at hand. 

While we were engaged in these operations, our vidette was kept at thetop of the hill to watch both bands, and warn us when their heads shouldsink to the prairie level. 

"I wonder why the Navajoes have gone by the Ojo de Vaca, " remarked ourchief, with an apparent anxiety in his manner. "It is well our comradesdid not remain there. "

"They'll be tired o' waitin' on us, whar they are, " rejoined Garey, "unless blacktails is plentier among them Musquites than I think for. "

"Vaya!" exclaimed Sanchez; "they may thank the Santisima they were notin our company! I'm spent to a skeleton. Mira! carrai!"

Our horses were at length bridled and saddled, and our lassoes coiledup. Still the vidette had not warned us. We grew every moment moreimpatient. 

"Come!" cried one; "hang it! they're far enough now. They're nota-goin' to be gapin' back all the way. They're looking ahead, I'mbound. Golly! thar's fine shines afore them. "

We could resist no longer. We called out to the vidette. He could justsee the heads of the hindmost. 

"That will do, " cried Seguin; "come, take your horses!"

The men obeyed with alacrity, and we all moved down the ravine, leadingour animals. 

We pressed forward to the opening. A young man, the pueblo servant ofSeguin, was ahead of the rest. He was impatient to reach the water. Hehad gained the mouth of the defile, when we saw him fall back withfrightening looks, dragging at his horse and exclaiming--

"Mi amo! mi amo! to davia son!" (Master, master! they are here yet!)

"Who?" inquired Seguin, running forward in haste. 

"The Indians, master; the Indians!"

"You are mad! Where did you see them?"

"In the camp, master. Look yonder!"

I pressed forward with Seguin to the rocks that lay along the entranceof the defile. We looked cautiously over. A singular sight met oureyes. 

The camp-ground was lying as the Indians had left it. The stakes werestill standing; the shaggy hides of the buffaloes, and pile of theirbones, were strewn upon the plain; hundreds of coyotes were loping backand forward, snarling at one another, or pursuing one of their numberwhich had picked up a nicer morsel than his companions. The fires werestill smouldering, and the wolves galloped through the ashes, raisingthem in yellow clouds. 

But there was a sight stranger than all this, a startling sight to me. Five or six forms, almost human, were moving about among the fires, collecting the debris of skins and bones, and quarrelling with thewolves that barked round them in troops. Five or six others, similarforms were seated around a pile of burning wood, silently gnawing athalf roasted ribs. Can they be--yes, they are human beings!

I was for a moment awe-struck as I gazed at the shrivelled and dwarfishbodies, the long, ape-like arms, and huge disproportioned heads, fromwhich fell their hair in snaky tangles, black and matted. 

But one or two appeared to have any article of dress, and that was aragged breech-clout. The others were naked as the wild beasts aroundthem, naked from head to foot!

It was a horrid sight to look upon these fiend-like dwarfs squattedaround the fires, holding up half-naked bones in their long, wrinkledarms, and tearing off the flesh with their glistening teeth. It was ahorrid sight, indeed; and it was some moments before I could recoversufficiently from my amazement to inquire who or what they were. I didso at length. 

"Los Yamparicos, " answered the cibolero. 

"Who?" I asked again. 

"Los Indios Yamparicos, senor. "

"The Diggers, the Diggers, " said a hunter, thinking that would betterexplain the strange apparitions. 

"Yes, they are Digger Indians, " added Seguin. "Come on; we have nothingto fear from them. "

"But we have somethin' to git from them, " rejoined one of the hunters, with a significant look. "Digger plew good as any other; worth jest asmuch as 'Pash chief. "

"No one must fire, " said Seguin, in a firm tone. "It is too soon yet;look yonder!" and he pointed over the plain, where two or three glancingobjects, the helmets of the retreating warriors, could still be seenabove the grass. 

"How are we goin' to get them, then, captain?" inquired the hunter. "They'll beat us to the rocks; they kin run like scared dogs. "

"Better let them go, poor devils!" said Seguin, seemingly unwilling thatblood should be spilled so wantonly. 

"No, captain, " rejoined the same speaker, "we won't fire, but we'll gitthem, if we kin, 'ithout it. Boys, follow me down this way. "

And the man was about guiding his horse in among the loose rocks, so asto pass unperceived between the dwarfs and the mountain. 

But the brutal fellow was frustrated in his design; for at that momentEl Sol and his sister appeared in the opening, and their brillianthabiliments caught the eyes of the Diggers. Like startled deer theysprang to their feet, and ran, or rather flew, toward the foot of themountain. The hunters galloped to intercept them, but they were toolate. Before they could come up, the Diggers had dived into thecrevices of the rocks, or were seen climbing like chamois along thecliffs, far out of reach. 

One of the hunters only--Sanchez--succeeded in making a capture. Hisvictim had reached a high ledge, and was scrambling along it, when thelasso of the bull-fighter settled round his neck. The next moment hewas plucked out into the air, and fell with a "cranch" upon the rocks!

I rode forward to look at him. He was dead. He had been crushed by thefall; in fact, mangled to a shapeless mass, and exhibited a mostloathsome and hideous sight. 

The unfeeling hunter recked not of this. With a coarse jest he stoopedover the body; and severing the scalp, stuck it, reeking and bloody, behind the waist of his calzoneros!

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. 

DACOMA. 

We all now hurried forward to the spring, and, dismounting, turned ourhorses' heads to the water, leaving them to drink at will. We had nofear of their running away. 

Our own thirst required slaking as much as theirs; and, crowding intothe branch, we poured the cold water down our throats in cupfuls. Wefelt as though we should never be surfeited; but another appetite, equally strong, lured us away from the spring; and we ran over thecamp-ground in search of the means to gratify it. We scattered thecoyotes and white wolves with our shouts, and drove them with missilesfrom the ground. 

We were about stooping to pick up the dust-covered morsels, when astrange exclamation from one of the hunters caused us to look hastilyround. 

"Malaray, camarados; mira el arco!"

The Mexican who uttered these words stood pointing to an object that layupon the ground at his feet. We ran up to ascertain what it was. 

"Caspita!" again ejaculated the man. "It is a white bow!"

"A white bow, by gosh!" echoed Garey. 

"A white bow!" shouted several others, eyeing the object with looks ofastonishment and alarm. 

"That belonged to a big warrior, I'll sartify, " said Garey. 

"Ay, " added another, "an' one that'll ride back for it as soon as--holies! look yonder! he's coming by--!"

Our eyes rolled over the prairie together, eastward, as the speakerpointed. An object was just visible low down on the horizon, like amoving blazing star. It was not that. At a glance we all knew what itwas. It was a helmet, flashing under the sunbeam, as it rose and fellto the measured gallop of a horse. 

"To the willows, men! to the willows!" shouted Seguin. "Drop the bow!Leave it where it was. To your horses! Lead them! Crouch! crouch!"

We all ran to our horses, and, seizing the bridles, half-led, half-dragged them within the willow thicket. We leaped into oursaddles, so as to be ready for any emergency, and sat peering throughthe leaves that screened us. 

"Shall we fire as he comes up, captain?" asked one of the men. 

"No. "

"We kin take him nicely, just as he stoops for the bow. "

"No; not for your lives!"

"What then, captain?"

"Let him take it, and go, " was Seguin's reply. 

"Why, captain? what's that for?"

"Fools! do you not see that the whole tribe would be back upon our trailbefore midnight? Are you mad? Let him go. He may not notice ourtracks, as our horses are not shod. If so, let him go as he came, Itell you. "

"But how, captain, if he squints yonder-away?"

Garey, as he said this, pointed to the rocks at the foot of themountain. 

"Sac-r-r-re! the Digger!" exclaimed Seguin, his countenance changingexpression. 

The body lay on a conspicuous point, on its face, the crimson skullturned upward and outward, so that it could hardly fail to attract theeye of anyone coming in from the plain. Several coyotes had alreadyclimbed up on the slab where it lay, and were smelling around it, seemingly not caring to touch the hideous morsel. 

"He's bound to see it, captain, " added the hunter. 

"If so, we must take him with the lance, the lasso, or alive. No gunmust be fired. They might still hear it, and would be on us before wecould get round the mountain. No! sling your guns! Let those who havelances and lassoes get them in readiness. "

"When would you have us make the dash, captain?"

"Leave that to me. Perhaps he may dismount for the bow; or, if not, hemay ride into the spring to water his horse, then we can surround him. If he see the Digger's body, he may pass up to examine it more closely. In that case we can intercept him without difficulty. Be patient! Ishall give you the signal. "

During all this time, the Navajo was coming up at a regular gallop. Asthe dialogue ended, he had got within about three hundred yards of thespring, and still pressed forward without slackening his pace. We keptour gaze fixed upon him in breathless silence, eyeing both man andhorse. 

It was a splendid sight. The horse was a large, coal-black mustang, with fiery eyes and red, open nostrils. He was foaming at the mouth, and the white flakes had clouted his throat, counter, and shoulders. Hewas wet all over, and glittered as he moved with the play of his proudflanks. The rider was naked from the waist up, excepting his helmet andplumes, and some ornaments that glistened on his neck, bosom and wrists. A tunic-like skirt, bright and embroidered, covered his hips andthighs. Below the knee his legs were naked, ending in a buskinedmoccasin, that fitted tightly round the ankle. Unlike the Apaches, there was no paint upon his body, and his bronze complexion shone withthe hue of health. His features were noble and warlike, his eye boldand piercing, and his long black hair swept away behind him, minglingwith the tail of his horse. He rode upon a Spanish saddle with hislance poised on the stirrup, and resting lightly against his right arm. His left was thrust through the strap of a white shield, and a quiverwith its feathered shafts peeped over his shoulder. 

His bow was before him. 

It was a splendid sight, both horse and rider, as they rose togetherover the green swells of the prairie; a picture more like that of someHomeric hero than a savage of the wild west. 

"Wagh!" exclaimed one of the hunters in an undertone; "how they glitter!Look at that 'ar headpiece! It's fairly a-blazin'!"

"Ay, " rejoined Garey, "we may thank the piece o' brass. We'd have beenin as ugly a fix as he's in now if we hadn't sighted it in time. What!"continued the trapper, his voice rising into earnestness; "Dacoma, bythe Etarnal! The second chief of the Navajoes!"

I turned toward Seguin to witness the effect of this announcement. TheMaricopa was leaning over to him, muttering some words in an unknowntongue, and gesticulating with energy. I recognised the name "Dacoma, "and there was an expression of fierce hatred in the chief's countenanceas he pointed to the advancing horseman. 

"Well, then, " answered Seguin, apparently assenting to the wishes of theother, "he shall not escape, whether he sees it or no. But do not useyour gun; they are not ten miles off, yonder behind the swell. We caneasily surround him. If not, I can overtake him on this horse, andhere's another. "

As Seguin uttered the last speech he pointed to Moro. "Silence!" hecontinued, lowering his voice. "Hish-sh!"

The silence became death-like. Each man sat pressing his horse with hisknees, as if thus to hold him at rest. 

The Navajo had now reached the border of the deserted camp; andinclining to the left, he galloped down the line, scattering the wolvesas he went. He sat leaning to one side, his gaze searching the ground. When nearly opposite to our ambush, he descried the object of hissearch, and sliding his feet out of the stirrup, guided his horse so asto shave closely past it. Then, without reining in, or even slackinghis pace, he bent over until his plume swept the earth, and picking upthe bow, swung himself back into the saddle. 

"Beautiful!" exclaimed the bull-fighter. 

"By gosh! it's a pity to kill him, " muttered a hunter; and a low murmurof admiration was heard among the men. 

After a few more springs, the Indian suddenly wheeled, and was about togallop back, when his eye was caught by the ensanguined object upon therock. He reined in with a jerk, until the hips of his horse almostrested upon the prairie, and sat gazing upon the body with a look ofsurprise. 

"Beautiful!" again exclaimed Sanchez; "carambo, beautiful!"

It was, in effect, as fine a picture as ever the eye looked upon. Thehorse with his tail scattered upon the ground, with crest erect andbreathing nostril, quivering under the impulse of his masterly rider;the rider himself, with his glancing helmet and waving plumes, hisbronze complexion, his firm and graceful seat, and his eye fixed in thegaze of wonder. 

It was, as Sanchez had said, a beautiful picture--a living statue; andall of us were filled with admiration as we looked upon it. Not one ofthe party, with perhaps an exception, should have liked to fire the shotthat would have tumbled it from its pedestal. 

Horse and man remained in this attitude for some moments. Then theexpression of the rider's countenance suddenly changed. His eyewandered with an inquiring and somewhat terrified look. It rested uponthe water, still muddy with the trampling of our horses. 

One glance was sufficient; and, with a quick, strong jerk upon thebridle, the savage horseman wheeled, and struck out for the prairie. 

Our charging signal had been given at the same instant; and springingforward, we shot out of the copse-wood in a body. 

We had to cross the rivulet. Seguin was some paces in advance as werode forward to it. I saw his horse suddenly baulk, stumble over thebank, and roll headlong into the water!

The rest of us went splashing through. I did not stop to look back. Iknew that now the taking of the Indian was life or death to all of us;and I struck my spur deeply, and strained forward in the pursuit. 

For some time we all rode together in a dense clump. When fairly out onthe plain, we saw the Indian ahead of us about a dozen lengths of hishorse, and one and all felt with dismay that he was keeping hisdistance, if not actually increasing it. 

We had forgotten the condition of our animals. They were faint withhunger, and stiff from standing so long in the ravine. Moreover, theyhad just drunk to a surfeit. 

I soon found that I was forging ahead of my companions. The superiorswiftness of Moro gave me the advantage. El Sol was still before me. Isaw him circling his lasso; I saw him launch it, and suddenly jerk up; Isaw the loop sliding over the hips of the flying mustang. He had missedhis aim. 

He was recoiling the rope as I shot past him, and I noticed his look ofchagrin and disappointment. 

My Arab had now warmed to the chase, and I was soon far ahead of mycomrades. I perceived, too, that I was closing upon the Navajo. Everyspring brought me nearer, until there were not a dozen lengths betweenus. 

I knew not how to act. I held my rifle in my hands, and could have shotthe Indian in the back; but I remembered the injunction of Seguin, andwe were now closer to the enemy than ever. I did not know but that wemight be in sight of them. I dared not fire. 

I was still undecided whether to use my knife or endeavour to unhorsethe Indian with my clubbed rifle, when he glanced over his shoulder andsaw that I was alone. 

Suddenly he wheeled, and throwing his lance to a charge, came gallopingback. His horse seemed to work without the rein, obedient to his voiceand the touch of his knees. 

I had just time to throw up my rifle and parry the charge, which was aright point. I did not parry it successfully. The blade grazed my arm, tearing my flesh. The barrel of my rifle caught in the sling of thelance, and the piece was whipped out of my hands. 

The wound, the shock, and the loss of my weapon, had discomposed me inthe manage of my horse, and it was some time before I could gain thebridle to turn him. My antagonist had wheeled sooner, as I knew by the"hist" of an arrow that scattered the curls over my right ear. As Ifaced him again, another was on the string, and the next moment it wassticking through my left arm. 

I was now angry; and, drawing a pistol from the holster, I cocked it, and galloped forward. I knew it was the only chance for my life. 

The Indian, at the same time, dropped his bow, and, bringing his lanceto the charge, spurred on to meet me. I was determined not to fireuntil near and sure of hitting. 

We closed at full gallop. Our horses almost touched. I levelled andpulled trigger. The cap snapped upon my pistol!

The lance-blade glittered in my eyes; its point was at my breast. Something struck me sharply in the face. It was the ring-loop of alasso. I saw it settle over the shoulders of the Indian, falling to hiselbows. It tightened as it fell. There was a wild yell, a quick jerkof my antagonist's body, the lance flew from his hands, and the nextmoment he was plucked out of his saddle, and lying helpless upon theprairie. 

His horse met mine with a concussion that sent both of them to theearth. We rolled and scrambled about, and rose again. 

When I came to my feet, El Sol was standing over the Navajo, with hisknife drawn, and his lasso looped around the arms of his captive. 

"The horse! the horse! secure the horse!" shouted Seguin, as he gallopedup; and the crowd dashed past me in pursuit of the mustang, which, withtrailing bridle, was scouring over the prairie. 

In a few minutes the animal was lassoed, and led back to the spot sonear being made sacred with my grave. 

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. 

A DINNER WITH TWO DISHES. 

El Sol, I have said, was standing over the prostrate Indian. Hiscountenance indicated the blending of two emotions, hate and triumph. 

His sister at this moment galloped up, and, leaping from her horse, advanced rapidly forward. 

"Behold!" said he, pointing to the Navajo chief; "behold the murderer ofour mother!"

The girl uttered a short, sharp exclamation; and, drawing a knife, rushed upon the captive. 

"No, Luna!" cried El Sol, putting her aside; "no; we are not assassins. That is not revenge. He shall not yet die. We will show him alive tothe squaws of the Maricopa. They shall dance the mamanchic over thisgreat chief--this warrior captured without a wound!"

El Sol uttered these words in a contemptuous tone. The effect wasvisible on the Navajo. 

"Dog of a Coco!" cried he, making an involuntary struggle to freehimself; "dog of a Coco! leagued with the pale robbers. Dog!"

"Ha! you remember me, Dacoma? It is well--"

"Dog!" again ejaculated the Navajo, interrupting him; and the wordshissed through his teeth, while his eyes glared with an expression ofthe fiercest malignity. 

"He! he!" cried Rube, at this moment galloping up; "he! he! that Injun'sas savagerous as a meat axe. Lamm him! Warm his collops wi' the bullrope; he's warmed my old mar. Nick syrup him!"

"Let us look to your wound, Monsieur Haller, " said Seguin, alightingfrom his horse, and approaching me, as I thought, with an uneasiness ofmanner. "How is it? through the flesh? You are safe enough; if, indeed, the arrow has not been poisoned. I tear--El Sol! here! quick, my friend! tell me if this point has been dipped. "

"Let us first take it out, " replied the Maricopa, coming up; "we shalllose no time by that. "

The arrow was sticking through my forearm. The barb had pierced throughthe flesh, until about half of the shaft appeared on the opposite side. 

El Sol caught the feather end in both his hands, and snapped it at thelapping. He then took hold of the barb and drew it gently out of thewound. 

"Let it bleed, " said he, "till I have examined the point. It does notlook like a war-shaft; but the Navajoes use a very subtle poison. Fortunately I possess the means of detecting it, as well as itsantidote. "

As he said this, he took from his pouch a tuft of raw cotton. With thishe rubbed the blood lightly from the blade. He then drew forth a smallstone phial, and, pouring a few drops of liquid upon the metal, watchedthe result. 

I waited with no slight feeling of uneasiness. Seguin, too, appearedanxious; and as I knew that he must have oftentimes witnessed the effectof a poisoned arrow, I did not feel very comfortable, seeing him watchthe assaying process with so much apparent anxiety. I knew there wasdanger where he dreaded it. 

"Monsieur Haller, " said El Sol, at length, "you are in luck this time. I think I may call it luck, for your antagonist has surely some in hisquiver not quite so harmless as this one. 

"Let me see, " he added; and, stepping up to the Navajo, he drew anotherarrow from the quiver that still remained slung upon the Indian's back. After subjecting the blade to a similar test, he exclaimed--

"I told you so. Look at this, green as a plantain! He fired two: whereis the other? Comrades, help me to find it. Such a tell-tale as thatmust not be left behind us. "

Several of the men leaped from their horses, and searched for the shaftthat had been shot first. I pointed out the direction and probabledistance as near as I could, and in a few moments it was picked up. 

El Sol took it, and poured a few drops of his liquid on the blade. Itturned green like the other. 

"You may thank your saints, Monsieur Haller, " said the Coco, "it was notthis one made that hole in your arm, else it would have taken all theskill of Doctor Reichter and myself to have saved you. But what's this?Another wound! Ha! He touched you as he made his right point. Let melook at it. "

"I think it is only a scratch. "

"This is a strange climate, Monsieur Haller. I have seen scratchesbecome mortal wounds when not sufficiently valued. Luna! Some cotton, sis! I shall endeavour to dress yours so that you need not fear thatresult. You deserve that much at my hands. But for you, sir, he wouldhave escaped me. "

"But for you, sir, he would have killed me. "

"Well, " replied the Coco, with a smile, "it is possible you would nothave come off so well. Your weapon played you false. It is hardly justto expect a man to parry a lance-point with a clubbed rifle, though itwas beautifully done. I do not wonder that you pulled trigger in thesecond joust. I intended doing so myself, had the lasso failed meagain. But we are in luck both ways. You must sling this arm for a dayor two. Luna! that scarf of yours. "

"No!" said I, as the girl proceeded to unfasten a beautiful scarf whichshe wore around her waist; "you shall not: I will find something else. "

"Here, mister; if this will do, " interposed the young trapper Garey, "you are heartily welcome to it. "

As Garey said this, he pulled a coloured handkerchief out of the breastof his hunting-shirt, and held it forth. 

"You are very kind; thank you!" I replied, although I knew on whoseaccount the kerchief was given; "you will be pleased to accept this inreturn. " And I offered him one of my small revolvers--a weapon that, atthat time and in that place, was worth its weight in pearls. 

The mountain man knew this, and very gratefully accepted the profferedgift; but much as he might have prized it, I saw that he was still moregratified with a simple smile that he received from another quarter, andI felt certain that the scarf would soon change owners, at any rate. 

I watched the countenance of El Sol to see if he had noticed or approvedof this little by-play. I could perceive no unusual emotion upon it. He was busy with my wounds, which he dressed in a manner that would havedone credit to a member of the R. C. S. 

"Now, " said he, when he had finished, "you will be ready for as muchmore fighting in a couple of days at the furthest. You have a badbridle-arm, Monsieur Haller, but the best horse I ever saw. I do notwonder at your refusing to sell him. "

Most of the conversation had been carried on in English; and it wasspoken by the Coco chief with an accent and emphasis, to my ear, as goodas I had ever heard. He spoke French, too, like a Parisian; and it wasin this language that he usually conversed with Seguin. I wondered atall this. 

The men had remounted, with the intention of returning to the camp. Extreme hunger was now prompting us, and we commenced riding back topartake of the repast so unceremoniously interrupted. 

At a short distance from the camp we dismounted, and, picketing ourhorses upon the grass, walked forward to search for the stray steaks andribs we had lately seen in plenty. A new chagrin awaited us; not amorsel of flesh remained! The coyotes had taken advantage of ourabsence, and we could see nothing around us but naked bones. The thighsand ribs of the buffaloes had been polished as if scraped with a knife. Even the hideous carcass of the Digger had become a shining skeleton!

"Wagh!" exclaimed one of the hunters; "wolf now or nothing: hyar goes!"and the man levelled his rifle. 

"Hold!" exclaimed Seguin, seeing the act. "Are you mad, sir?"

"I reckon not, capt'n, " replied the hunter, doggedly bringing down hispiece. "We must eat, I s'pose. I see nothin' but them about; an' howare we goin' to get them 'ithout shootin'?"

Seguin made no reply, except by pointing to the bow which El Sol wasmaking ready. 

"Eh-ho!" added the hunter; "yer right, capt'n. I asks pardon. I hadforgot that piece o' bone. "

The Coco took an arrow from the quiver, and tried the head with theassaying liquid. It proved to be a hunting-shaft; and, adjusting it tothe string, he sent it through the body of a white wolf, killing itinstantly. He took up the shaft again, and wiping the feather, shotanother, and another, until the bodies of five or six of these animalslay stretched upon the ground. 

"Kill a coyote when ye're about it, " shouted one of the hunters;"gentlemen like we oughter have leastwise two courses to our dinner. "

The men laughed at this rough sally; and El Sol, smiling, again pickedup the arrow, and sent it whizzing through the body of one of thecoyotes. 

"I think that will be enough for one meal, at all events, " said El Sol, recovering the arrow, and putting it back into the quiver. 

"Ay!" replied the wit; "if we wants more we kin go back to the larderagin. It's a kind o' meat that eats better fresh, anyhow. "

"Well, it diz, hoss. Wagh! I'm in for a griskin o' the white. Hyargoes!"

The hunters, laughing at the humour of their comrades, drew theirshining knives, and set about skinning the wolves. The adroitness withwhich this operation was performed showed that it was by no means new tothem. 

In a short time the animals were stripped of their hides and quarters;and each man, taking his quarter, commenced roasting it over the fire. 

"Fellers! what d'ye call this anyhow? Beef or mutton?" asked one, asthey began to eat. 

"Wolf-mutton, I reckin, " was the reply. 

"It's dog-gone good eatin', I say; peels off as tender as squ'll. "

"It's some'ut like goat, ain't it?"

"Mine tastes more like dog to me. "

"It ain't bad at all; better than poor bull any day. "

"I'd like it a heap better if I war sure the thing hadn't been up to yonvarmint on the rocks. " And the man who said this pointed to theskeleton of the Digger. 

The idea was horrible, and under other circumstances would have acted asa sufficient emetic. 

"Wagh!" exclaimed a hunter; "ye've most taken away my stammuck. I wasa-goin' to try the coyoat afore ye spoke. I won't now, for I seed themsmellin' about him afore we rid off. "

"I say, old case, you don't mind it, do ye?"

This was addressed to Rube, who was busy on his rib and made no reply. 

"He? not he, " said another, answering for him. "Rube's ate a heap o'queery tit-bits in his time. Hain't ye, Rube?"

"Ay, an' afore yur be as long in the mountains as this child, 'ee'll beglad to get yur teeth over wuss chawin's than wolf-meat; see if 'eedon't, young fellur. "

"Man-meat, I reckin?"

"Ay, that's what Rube means. "

"Boyees!" said Rube, not heeding the remark, and apparently in goodhumour, now that he was satisfying his appetite, "what's the nassiestthing, leavin' out man-meat, any o' 'ees iver chawed?"

"Woman-meat, I reckin. "

"'Ee chuckle-headed fool! yur needn't be so peert now, showin' yursmartness when 'tain't called for nohow. "

"Wal, leaving out man-meat, as you say, " remarked one of the hunters, inanswer to Rube's question, "a muss-rat's the meanest thing I ever setteeth on. "

"I've chawed sage-hare--raw at that, " said a second, "an' I don't wantto eat anything that's bitterer. "

"Owl's no great eatin', " added a third. 

"I've ate skunk, " continued a fourth; "an' I've ate sweeter meat in mytime. "

"Carrajo!" exclaimed a Mexican, "what do you think of monkey? I havedined upon that down south many's the time. "

"Wal, I guess monkey's but tough chawin's; but I've sharpened my teethon dry buffler hide, and it wa'n't as tender as it mout 'a been. "

"This child, " said Rube, after the rest had given in their experience, "leavin' monkey to the beside, have ate all them critturs as has beennamed yet. Monkey he hain't, bein' as thur's none o' 'em in theseparts. It may be tough, or it mayn't; it may be bitter, an' it mayn't, for what I knows to the contrairywise; but, oncest on a time, thisniggur chawed a varmint that wa'n't much sweeter, if it wur as sweet. "

"What was it, Rube?"

"What was it?" asked several in a breath, curious to know what the oldtrapper could have eaten more unpalatable than the viands already named. 

"'Twur turkey-buzzart, then; that's what it wur. "

"Turkey-buzzard!" echoed everyone. 

"'Twa'n't any thin' else. "

"Wagh? that was a stinkin' pill, an' no mistake. "

"That beats me all hollow. "

"And when did ye eat the buzzard, old boy?" asked one, suspecting thatthere might be a story connected with this feat of the earless trapper. 

"Ay! tell us that, Rube; tell us!" cried several. 

"Wal, " commenced Rube, after a moment's silence, "'twur about six yeernago, I wur set afoot on the Arkansaw, by the Rapahoes, leastwise twohunder mile below the Big Timmer. The cussed skunks tuk hoss, beaver, an' all. He! he!" continued the speaker with a chuckle; "he! he! theymout 'a did as well an' let ole Rube alone. "

"I reckon that, too, " remarked a hunter. "'Tain't like they made muchout o' that speckelashun. Well--about the buzzard?"

"'Ee see, I wur cleaned out, an' left with jest a pair o' leggins, better than two hunder miles from anywhur. Bent's wur the nearest; an'I tuk up the river in that direkshun. 

"I never seed varmint o' all kinds as shy. They wudn't 'a been if I'd'a had my traps; but there wa'n't a critter, from the minners in thewaters to the bufflers on the paraira, that didn't look like they knowedhow this niggur were fixed. I kud git nuthin' for two days but lizard, an' scarce at that. "

"Lizard's but poor eatin', " remarked one. 

"'Ee may say that. This hyur thigh jeint's fat cow to it--it are. "

And Rube, as he said this, made a fresh attack upon the wolf-mutton. 

"I chawed up the ole leggins, till I wur as naked as Chimley Rock. "

"Gollies! was it winter?"

"No. 'Twur calf-time, an' warm enuf for that matter. I didn't mind thewant o' the buckskin that a way, but I kud 'a eat more o' it. 

"The third day I struck a town o' sand-rats. This niggur's har wurlonger then than it ur now. I made snares o' it, an' trapped a lot o'the rats; but they grew shy too, cuss 'em! an' I had to quit thatspeck'lashun. This wur the third day from the time I'd been set down, an' I wur getting nasty weak on it. I 'gin to think that the time wurcome for this child to go under. 

"'Twur a leetle arter sun-up, an' I wur sittin' on the bank, when I seedsomethin' queery floatin' a-down the river. When I kim closer, I seedit wur the karkidge o' a buffler--calf at that--an' a couple o' buzzartsfloppin' about on the thing, pickin' its peepers out. 'Twur far out, an' the water deep; but I'd made up my mind to fetch it ashore. Iwa'n't long in strippin', I reckin. "

Here the hunters interrupted Rube's story with a laugh. 

"I tuk the water, an' swam out. I kud smell the thing afore I wurhalf-way, an' when I got near it, the birds mizzled. I wur soon clostup, an' seed at a glimp that the calf wur as rotten as punk. "

"What a pity!" exclaimed one of the hunters. 

"I wa'n't a-gwine to have my swim for nuthin'; so I tuk the tail in myteeth, an' swam back for the shore. I hadn't made three strokes tillthe tail pulled out!

"I then swum round ahint the karkidge, an' pushed it afore me till I gotit landed high an' dry upon a sandbar. 'Twur like to fall to pieces, when I pulled it out o' the water. 'Twa'n't eatable nohow!"

Here Rube took a fresh mouthful of the wolf-mutton, and remained silentuntil he had masticated it. The men had become interested in the story, and waited with impatience. At length he proceeded--

"I seed the buzzarts still flyin' about, an' fresh ones a-comin'. I tuka idee that I mout git my claws upon some o' 'em. So I lay down clostup agin the calf, an' played 'possum. 

"I wa'n't long that a way when the birds begun to light on the sandbar, an' a big cock kim floppin' up to the karkidge. Afore he kud flop upagin, I grupped him by the legs. "

"Hooraw! well done, by gollies!"

"The cussed thing wur nearly as stinkin' as t'other, but it wur diedog--buzzart or calf--so I skinned the buzzart. "

"And ate it?" inquired an impatient listener. "No-o, " slowly drawledRube, apparently "miffed" at being thus interrupted. "It ate me. "

The laugh that followed this retort restored the old trapper to goodhumour again. 

"Did you go it raw, Rube?" asked one of the hunters. "How could he dootherwise? He hadn't a spark o' fire, an' nothing to make one out of. "

"Yur'n etarnal fool!" exclaimed Rube, turning savagely on the lastspeaker. "I kud make a fire if thur wa'n't a spark anywhar!"

A yell of laughter followed this speech, and it was some minutes beforethe trapper recovered his temper sufficiently to resume his narration. 

"The rest o' the birds, " continued he at length, "seein' the ole cockrubbed out, grew shy, and kep away on t'other side o' the river. 'Twa'n't no use tryin' that dodge over agin. Jest then I spied a coyoatcomin' lopin' down the bank, an' another follerin' upon his heels, an'two or three more on the same trail. I know'd it wud be no jokegruppin' one o' them by the leg, but I made up my mind to try it; an' Ilay down jest as afore, close up to the calf. 'Twur no go. The cunnin'things seed the float stick, an' kep clur o' the karkidge. I wura-gwine to cacher under some bush that wur by, an' I begun to carry itup, when all of a suddint I tuk a fresh idee in my head. I seed thurwur drift-wood a plenty on the bank, so I fotched it up, an' built apen-trap roun' about the calf. In the twinklin' o' a goat's eye I hadsix varmints in the trap. "

"Hooraw! Ye war safe then, old hoss. "

"I tuk a lot o' stones, an' then clomb up on the pen, an' killed the hulkit on 'em. Lord, boyees! 'ee never seed sich a snappin', and snarlin', and jumpin', an' yowltin', as when I peppered them donicks down on 'em. He! he! he! Ho! ho! hoo!"

And the smoky old sinner chuckled with delight at the remembrance of hisadventure. 

"You reached Bent's then safe enough, I reckin?"

"'Ee--es. I skinned the critters wi' a sharp stone, an' made me a sorto' shirt an' leggins. This niggur had no mind, comin' in naked, to gi'them thur joke at the Fort. I packed enough of the wolf-meat to last meup, an' I got there in less'n a week. Bill wur thur himself, an' 'eeall know Bill Bent. He know'd me. I wa'n't in the Fort a half an hourtill I were spick-span in new buckskins, wi' a new rifle; an' that riflewur Tar-guts, now afore ye. "

"Ha! you got Tear-guts thar then?"

"I got Tar-guts thur then, an' a gun she ur. He! he! he! 'Twa'n't longarter I got her till I tried her. He! he! he! Ho! ho! hoo!"

And the old trapper went off into another fit of chuckling. 

"What are ye laughin' at now, Rube?" asked one of his comrades. 

"He! he! he! What am I larfin' at? He! he! he! Ho! ho! That ur thecrisp o' the joke. He! he! he! What am I larfin' at?"

"Yes; tell us, man!"

"It are this then I'm larfin' at, " replied Rube, sobering down a little, "I wa'n't at Bent's three days when who do 'ee think shed kum to theFort?"

"Who? Maybe the Rapahoes!"

"Them same Injuns; an' the very niggurs as set me afoot. They kum tothe Fort to trade wi' Bill, an' thur I sees both my old mar an' rifle!"

"You got them back then?"

"That wur likely. Thur wur a sight o' mountainy men thur, at the time, that wa'n't the fellurs to see this child put down on the parairar fornuthin'. Yander's the critter!" and Rube pointed to the old mare. "Therifle I gin to Bill, an' kep Tar-guts instead, seeing she wur a bettergun. "

"So you got square with the Rapahoes?"

"That, young fellur, justs rests on what 'ee 'ud call squar. Do 'ee seethese hyur nicks: them standin' sep'rate?"

And the trapper pointed to a row of small notches cut in the stock ofhis rifle. 

"Ay, ay!" cried several men in reply. "Thur's five o' 'em, ain't thur?"

"One, two, three; yes, five. "

"Them's Rapahoes!"

Rube's story was ended. 

CHAPTER THIRTY. 

BLINDING THE PURSUER. 

By this time the men had finished eating, and now began to gather aroundSeguin, for the purpose of deliberating on what course we should pursue. One had already been sent up to the rocks to act as a vidette, and warnus in case any of the Indians should be descried upon the prairie. 

We all felt that we were still in a dilemma. The Navajo was ourcaptive, and his men would come to seek for him. He was too important apersonage (second chief of the nation) to be abandoned without a search, and his own followers, nearly half of the tribe, would certainly be backto the spring. Not finding him there, should they not discover ourtracks, they would return upon the war-trail to their country. 

This, we all saw, would render our expedition impracticable, as Dacoma'sband alone outnumbered us; and should we meet them in their mountainfastnesses, we should have no chance of escape. 

For some time Seguin remained silent, with his eyes fixed on the ground. He was evidently tracing out in his mind some plan of action. None ofthe hunters chose to interrupt him. 

"Comrades!" said he at length, "this is an unfortunate _coup_, but itcould not be avoided. It is well it is no worse. As it is, we mustalter our plans. They will be sure to return on his track, and followtheir own trail back to the Navajo towns. What then? Our band cannoteither come on to the Pinon or cross the war-trail at any point. Theywould discover our tracks to a certainty. "

"Why, can't we go straight up to whar the rest's cached, and then takeround by the old mine? That won't interfere with the war-trail nohow. "This was proposed by one of the hunters. "Vaya!" rejoined a Mexican;"we should meet the Navajoes just when we had got to their town!Carrai! that would never do, amigo. There wouldn't many, of us get backagain. Santisima! No. "

"We ain't obleeged to meet them, " argued the first speaker. "They'renot a-goin' to stop at thur town when they find the nigger hain't beenback. "

"It is true, " said Seguin, "they will not remain there. They willdoubtless return on the war-trail again; but I know the country by themine. "

"So do I! So do I!" cried several voices. "There is no game, "continued Seguin. "We have no provisions; it is therefore impossiblefor us to go that way. "

"We couldn't go it, nohow. "

"We should starve before we had got through the Mimbres. "

"Thar's no water that way. "

"No, by gosh! not enough to make a drink for a sand-rat. "

"We must take our chances, then, " said Seguin. Here he pausedthoughtfully, and with a gloomy expression of countenance. 

"We must cross the trail, " he continued, "and go by the Prieto, orabandon the expedition. "

The word "Prieto, " in opposition to the phrase "abandon the expedition, "put the hunters to their wits' end for invention, and plan after planwas proposed; all, however, ending in the probability--in fact, certainty--that if adopted, our trail would be discovered by the enemy, and followed up before we could escape back to the Del Norte. Theywere, therefore, one after another rejected. 

During all this discussion, old Rube had not said a word. The earlesstrapper was sitting upon the prairie, squat on his hams, tracing outsome lines with his bow, and apparently laying out the plan of afortification. 

"What are ye doin', old hoss?" inquired one of his comrades. 

"My hearin' ain't as good as 'twur afore I kim into this cussed country;but I thought I heerd some o' 'ees say, jest now, we cudn't cross the'Pash trail 'ithout bein' followed in two days. That's a dod-rottedlie. It are. "

"How are ye goin' to prove it, hoss?"

"Chut, man! yur tongue wags like a beaver's tail in flood-time. "

"Can you suggest any way in which it can be done, Rube? I confess I seenone. "

As Seguin made this appeal, all eyes were turned upon the trapper. 

"Why, cap, I kin surgest my own notion o' the thing. It may be right, an' it mayn't be right; but if it wur follered out, there'll be neither'Pash nor Navagh that'll smell where we go for a week. If they diz, 'eemay cut my ears off. "

This was a favourite joke with Rube, and the hunters only laughed. Seguin himself could not restrain a smile, as he requested the speakerto proceed. 

"Fust an' fo'most, then, " said Rube, "thur not a-gwine to come arterthat nigger in less than two days. "

"How can you tell that?"

"This way: 'Ee see he's only second chief, an' they kin go on wellenough 'ithout him. But that ain't it. The Injun forgot his bow; whiteat that. Now 'ee all knows as well as this child, that that's a bigdisgrace in the eyes o' Injuns. "

"You're right about that, hoss, " remarked one. 

"Wal, so the ole 'coon thinks. Now, 'ee see, it's as plain as Pike'sPeak that he kim away back 'ithout tellin' any o' the rest a syllabubabout it. He'd not let 'em know if he kud help it. "

"That is not improbable, " said Seguin. "Proceed, Rube!"

"More'n that, " continued the trapper, "I'll stake high thet he orderedthem not to foller him, afeerd thet some on 'em mout see what he kimfor. If he'd a-thought they knew or suspected, he'd 'a sent some other, an' not kum himself; that's what he'd 'a done. "

This was all probable enough; and with the knowledge which thescalp-hunters possessed of the Navajo character, they one and allbelieved it to be so. 

"I'm sartin they'll kum back, " continued Rube; "that ur, his half o' thetribe, anyways; but it'll be three days clur, an' well up till another, afore they drinks Peenyun water. "

"But they would strike our trail the day after. "

"If we were green fools enough to let 'em, they wud. "

"How can we prevent that?" asked Seguin. 

"Easy as fallin' off a log. "

"How? how?" inquired several at once. 

"By puttin' them on another scent, do 'ee see?"

"Yes! but in what way can we effect that?" inquired Seguin. 

"Why, cap, yur tumble has surely dumfoundered ye. I wud think less o'these other dummies not seein' at a glimp how we kin do it. "

"I confess, Rube, " replied Seguin, with a smile, "I do not perceive howwe can mislead them. "

"Wal, then, " continued the trapper, with a chuckle of satisfaction athis own superior prairie-craft, "this child's a-gwyne to tell 'ee how'ee kin put them on a different track. "

"Hooraw for you, old hoss!"

"'Ee see a quiver on that Injun's back?"

"Ay, ay!" cried several voices. 

"It's full o' arrows, or pretty near it, I reckin. "

"It is. Well?"

"Wal, then, let some o' us ride the Injun's mustang: any other critterthet's got the same track 'll do; away down the 'Pash trail, an' stickthem things pointin' south'art; an' if the Navagh don't travel that away till they comes up with the 'Pashes, 'ee may have this child's harfor a plug o' the wust Kaintucky terbaccer. "

"Viva!"

"He's right, he's right!"

"Hooraw for old Rube!" and various exclamations, were uttered by thehunters. 

"'Tain't needcessary for them to know why he shud 'a tuk that track. They'll know his arrows; that's enuf. By the time they gits back, withtheir fingers in thur meat-traps, we'll hev start enough to carry us toHackensack. "

"Ay, that we will, by gollies!"

"The band, " continued Rube, "needn't come to the Peenyun spring nohowsomever. They kin cross the war-trail higher up to to'rst the Heely, an' meet us on t'other side o' the mountain, whur thur's a grist o'game, both cattle an' buffler. A plenty o' both on the ole missionlands, I'll be boun'. We'd hev to go thur anyways. Thur's no hopes o'meetin' the buffler this side, arter the splurry them Injuns has ginthem. "

"That is true enough, " said Seguin. "We must go round the mountainbefore we can expect to fall in with the buffalo. The Indian hunt haschased them clean off from the Llanos. Come, then! Let us set aboutour work at once. We have yet two hours before sunset. What would youdo first, Rube? You have given the plan: I will trust to you for thedetails. "

"Why, in my opeenyun, cap, the fust thing to be did are to send a man asstraight as he can gallip to whur the band's cached. Let him fotch themacrost the trail. "

"Where should they cross, do you think?"

"About twenty mile north o' hyur thur's a dry ridge, an' a good grist o'loose donicks. If they cross as they oughter, they needn't make muchsign. I kud take a train o' Bent's waggons over, that 'ud puzzle deafSmith to foller 'em. I kud. "

"I will send a man off instantly. Here, Sanchez! you have a good horse, and know the ground. It is not over twenty miles to where they arecached. Bring them along the ridge, and with caution, as you haveheard. You will find us around the north point of the mountain. Youcan travel all night, and be up with us early in the morning. Away!"

The torero, without making any answer, drew his horse from the picket, leaped into the saddle, and rode off at a gallop towards the north-west. 

"It is fortunate, " said Seguin, looking after him for some moments, "that they have trampled the ground about here, else the tracks made inour last encounter would certainly have told tales upon us. "

"Thur's no danger about that, " rejoined Rube; "but when we rides fromhyur, cap'n, we mustn't foller their trail. They'd soon sight our backtracks. We had best keep up yander among the loose donicks. " Rubepointed to the shingle that stretched north and south along the foot ofthe mountain. 

"Yes, that shall be our course. We can leave this without leaving anytracks. What next?"

"The next idee ur, to get rid o' yon piece o' machin'ry, " and thetrapper, as he spoke, nodded in the direction of the skeleton. 

"True! I had forgotten it. What shall we do with it?"

"Bury it, " advised one. 

"Wagh! no. Burn it!" cried another. 

"Ay, that's best, " said a third. 

The latter suggestion was adopted. 

The skeleton was brought down; the stains of the blood were carefullyrubbed from the rocks; the skull was shivered with a tomahawk, and thejoints were broken in pieces. The whole mass was then flung upon thefire, and pounded down among numerous bones of the buffalo, alreadysimmering in the cinders. An anatomist only could have detected thepresence of a human skeleton. 

"Now, Rube; the arrows?"

"If 'ee'll leave that to me an' Bill Garey, I think them two niggurs kinfix 'em so as to bamfoozle any Injuns thur is in these parts. We'll hevto go three mile or tharabout; but we'll git back by the time 'ee hevfilled yur gourds, an' got yur traps ready for skeetin'. "

"Very well! take the arrows. "

"Four's gobs for us, " said Rube, taking that number from the quiver. "Keep the rest. 'Ee'll want more wolf-meat afore we start. Thur's nota tail o' anythin' else till we git clur roun' the mountain yander. Billee! throw your ugly props over that Navagh mustang. Putty hoss too;but I wudn't giv my old mar for a hul cavayard o' him. Gi's a sprig o'the black feather. "

Here the old trapper drew one of the ostrich feathers out of the helmetof the Navajo chief, and continued--

"Boyees! take care o' the ole mar till I kum back, an don't let herstampede, do 'ee hear. I wants a blanket. Don't all speak at oncest!"

"Here, Rube, here!" cried several, holding out their blankets. 

"E'er a one 'll do. We needs three: Bill's an' mine an' another'n. Hyur, Billee! take these afore ye. Now ride down the 'Pash trail threehunred yards, or tharabout, an' then pull up. Don't take the beatenpad, but keep alongside, an' make big tracks. Gallop!"

The young hunter laid his quirt to the flanks of the mustang, andstarted at full gallop along the Apache trail. 

When he had ridden a distance of three hundred yards or so, he halted towait for further directions from his comrade. 

Old Rube, at the same time, took an arrow; and, fastening a piece ofostrich feather to the barb, adjusted it on one of the upright poleswhich the Indians had left standing on the camp-ground. It was placedin such a manner that the head pointed southward in the direction of theApache trail, and was so conspicuous with the black feather that no onecoming in from the Llanos could fail to see it. 

This done, he followed his companion on foot, keeping wide out from thetrail, and making his tracks with great caution. On coming up withGarey, he stuck a second arrow in the ground: its point also inclined tothe south, and so that it could be seen from the former one. 

Garey then galloped forward, keeping on the trail, while Rube struck outagain to the open prairie, and advanced in a line parallel to it. 

Having ridden a distance of two or three miles, Garey slackened hispace, and put the mustang to a slow walk. A little farther on he againhalted, and held his horse at rest, in the beaten path. 

Rube now came up, and spread the three blankets lengthwise along theground, and leading westward from the trail. Garey dismounted, and ledthe animal gently on the blankets. 

As its feet rested on two at a time, each, as it became the rearmost, was taken up, and spread again in front; and this was repeated untilthey had got the mustang some fifty lengths of himself out into theprairie. The movement was executed with an adroitness equal to thatwhich characterised the feat of Sir Walter Raleigh. 

Garey now took up the blankets, and, remounting, commenced riding slowlyback by the foot of the mountain; while Rube returned to the trail, andplaced a third arrow at the point where the mustang had parted from it. He then proceeded south as before. One more was yet needed to makedoubly sure. 

When he had gone about half a mile, we saw him stoop over the trail, rise up again, cross toward the mountain foot, and follow the path takenby his companion. The work was done; the finger-posts were set; theruse was complete!

El Sol, meanwhile, had been busy. Several wolves were killed andskinned, and the meat was packed in their skins. The gourds werefilled, our captive was tied on a mule, and we stood waiting the returnof the trappers. 

Seguin had resolved to leave two men at the spring as videttes. Theywere to keep their horses by the rocks, and supply them with themule-bucket, so as to make no fresh tracks at the water. One was toremain constantly on an eminence, and watch the prairie with the glass. They could thus descry the returning Navajoes in time to escapeunobserved themselves along the foot of the mountain. They were then tohalt at a place ten miles to the north, where they could still have aview of the plain. There they were to remain until they had ascertainedwhat direction the Indians should take after leaving the spring, whenthey were to hurry forward and join the band with their tidings. 

All these arrangements having been completed as Rube and Garey came up, we mounted our horses and rode by a circuitous route for the mountainfoot. When close in, we found the path strewed with loose cut-rock, upon which the hoofs of our animals left no track. Over this we rodeforward, heading to the north, and keeping in a line nearly parallel tothe "war-trail. "

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. 

A BUFFALO "SURROUND. "

A march of twenty miles brought us to the place where we expected to bejoined by the band. We found a small stream heading in the Pinon Range, and running westward to the San Pedro. It was fringed with cotton-treesand willows, and with grass in abundance for our horses. Here weencamped, kindled a fire in the thicket, cooked our wolf-mutton, ate it, and went to sleep. 

The band came up in the morning, having travelled all night. Theirprovisions were spent as well as ours, and instead of resting ourwearied animals, we pushed on through a pass in the sierra in hopes offinding game on the other side. 

About noon we debouched through the mountain pass into a country ofopenings--small prairies, bounded by jungly forests, and interspersedwith timber islands. These prairies were covered with tall grass, andbuffalo signs appeared as we rode into them. We saw their "roads, ""chips, " and "wallows. "

We saw, moreover, the _bois de vache_ of the wild cattle. We would soonmeet with one or the other. 

We were still on the stream by which we had camped the night before, andwe made a noon halt to refresh our animals. 

The full-grown forms of the cacti were around us, bearing red and yellowfruit in abundance. We plucked the pears of the pitahaya, and ate themgreedily; we found service-berries, yampo, and roots of the "pommeblanche. " We dined on fruits and vegetables of various sorts, indigenous only to this wild region. 

But the stomachs of the hunters longed for their favourite food, thehump ribs and boudins of the buffalo; and after a halt of two hours, wemoved forward through the openings. 

We had ridden about an hour among chapparal, when Rube, who was somepaces in advance, acting as guide, turned in his saddle and pointeddownward. 

"What's there, Rube?" asked Seguin, in a low voice. 

"Fresh track, cap'n; buffler!"

"What number; can you guess?"

"A gang o' fifty or tharabout. They've tuk through the thicketyander-away. I kin sight the sky. Thur's clur ground not fur from us;and I'd stak a plew thur in it. I think it's a small parairia, cap. "

"Halt here, men!" said Seguin; "halt and keep silent. Ride forward, Rube. Come, Monsieur Haller, you're fond of hunting; come along withus!"

I followed the guide and Seguin through the bushes; like them, ridingslowly and silently. 

In a few minutes we reached the edge of a prairie covered with longgrass. Peering cautiously through the leaves of the prosopis, we had afull view of the open ground. The buffaloes were on the plain!

It was, as Rube had rightly conjectured, a small prairie about a mileand a half in width, closed in on all sides by a thick chapparal. Nearthe centre was a motte of heavy timber, growing up from a leafyunderwood. A spur of willows running out from the timber indicated thepresence of water. 

"Thur's a spring yander, " muttered Rube. "They've jest been a-coolin'their noses at it. "

This was evident enough, for some of the animals were at the momentwalking out of the willows; and we could see the wet clay glisteningupon their flanks, and the saliva glancing down from their jaws. 

"How will we get at them, Rube?" asked Seguin; "can we approach them, doyou think?"

"I doubt not, cap. The grass 'ud hardly kiver us, an thur a-gwine outo' range o' the bushes. "

"How then? We cannot run them; there's not room. They would be intothe thicket at the first dash. We would lose every hoof of them. "

"Sartin as Scripter. "

"What is to be done?"

"This niggur sees but one other plan as kin be used jest at this time. "

"What is it?"

"Surround. "

"Right; if we can do that. How is the wind?"

"Dead as an Injun wi' his head cut off, " replied the trapper, taking asmall feather out of his cap and tossing it in the air. "See, cap, itfalls plump!"

"It does, truly. "

"We kin easily git roun' them bufflers afore they wind us; an' we hevmen enough to make a picket fence about them. We can hardly set aboutit too soon, cap. Thur a movin' torst the edge yander. "

"Let us divide the men, then, " said Seguin, turning his horse; "you canguide one-half of them to their stands. I will go with the other. Monsieur Haller, you had better remain where you are. It is as good astand as you can get. Have patience. It may be an hour before all areplaced. When you hear the bugle, you may gallop forward and do yourbest. If we succeed, you shall have sport and a good supper, which Isuppose you feel the need of by this time. "

So saying, Seguin left me, and rode back to the men, followed by oldRube. 

It was their purpose to separate the band into two parties, each takingan opposite direction, and to drop men here and there at regularintervals around the prairie. They would keep in the thicket while onthe march, and only discover themselves at a given signal. In this way, should the buffaloes allow time for the execution of the movement, weshould be almost certain of securing the whole gang. 

As soon as Seguin had left me, I looked to my rifle and pistols, puttingon a fresh set of caps. After that, having nothing else to occupy me, Iremained seated in my saddle, eyeing the animals as they fed unconsciousof danger. I was full of anxiety lest some clumsy fellow might discoverhimself too soon, and thus spoil our anticipated sport. 

After a while I could see the birds flying up from the thicket, and thescreaming of the blue jay indicated to me the progress of the"surround. "

Now and then, an old bull, on the skirts of the herd, would toss up hisshaggy mane, snuff the wind, and strike the ground fiercely with hishoof, evidently labouring under a suspicion that all was not right. 

The others did not seem to heed these demonstrations, but kept onquietly cropping the luxuriant grama. 

I was thinking how nicely we were going to have them in the trap, whenan object caught my eye, just emerging from the motte. It was a buffalocalf, and I saw that it was proceeding to join the gang. I thought itsomewhat strange that it should be separated from the rest, for thecalves, trained by their mothers to know the wolf, usually keep up withthe herd. 

"It has stayed behind at the spring, " thought I. "Perhaps the otherspushed it from the water, and it could not drink until they were gone. "

I fancied that it moved clumsily, as if wounded; but it was passingthrough the long grass, and I could not get a good view of it. 

There was a pack of coyotes (there always is) sneaking after the herd. These, perceiving the calf, as it came out of the timber, made aninstant and simultaneous attack upon it. I could see them skippingaround it, and fancied I could hear their fierce snarling; but the calfappeared to fight its way through the thick of them; and after a shortwhile, I saw it close in to its companions, where I lost sight of itamong the others. 

"A game young bull, " soliloquised I, and again I ran my eye around theskirting of the chapparal to watch how the hunters were getting forwardwith the "surround. " I could perceive the flashing of brilliant wingsover the bramble, and hear the shrill voices of the jay-birds. Judgingby these, I concluded that the men were moving slowly enough. It washalf an hour since Seguin had left me, and I could perceive that theywere not half-way round as yet. 

I began to make calculations as to how long I would have to wait, soliloquising as follows:--

"Diameter of the prairie, a mile and a half. It is a circle three timesthat: four miles and a half. Phew! I shall not hear the signal in muchless than an hour. I must be patient then, and--what! The brutes arelying down! Good! There is no danger now of their making off. Weshall have rare sport! One, two, three, six of them down! It must bethe heat and the water. They have drunk too much. There goes another. Lucky devils! They have nothing else to do but eat and sleep, while I--no! eight down! Well! I hope soon to eat, too. What an odd way theyhave of coming to the ground! How different from anything of the bovinetribe I have yet observed! I have never seen buffaloes quieting downbefore. One would think they were falling as if shot! Two morealongside the rest! They will soon be all upon the turf. So much thebetter. We can gallop up before they get to their feet again. Oh, thatI could hear that horn!"

And thus I went on rambling from thought to thought, and listening forthe signal, although I knew that it could not be given for some timeyet. 

The buffaloes kept moving slowly onward, browsing as they went, andcontinuing to lie down one after another. I thought it strange, theirstretching themselves thus successively; but I had observed farm cattledo the same, and I was at that time but little acquainted with thehabits of the buffalo. Some of them appeared to toss about on theground and kick violently. I had heard of a peculiarity of theseanimals termed "wallowing. "

"They are at it, " thought I. I wished much to have a clearer view ofthis curious exercise, but the high grass prevented me. I could onlysee their shaggy shoulders, and occasionally their hoofs kicking up overthe sward. 

I watched their movements with great interest, now feeling secure thatthe "surround" would be complete before they would think of rising. 

At length the last one of the gang followed the example of hiscompanions, and dropped over. 

They were all now upon their sides, half-buried in the bunch grass. Ithought I noticed the calf still upon its feet; but at that moment thebugle sounded, and a simultaneous cheer broke from all sides of theprairie. 

I pressed the spur to my horse's flank, and dashed out into the openplain. Fifty others had done the same, yelling as they shot out of thethicket. 

With my reins resting on my left fingers, and my rifle thrown crosswise, I galloped forward, filled with the wild excitement that such anadventure imparts. I was cocked and ready, resolved upon having thefirst shot. 

It was but a short distance from where I had started to the nearestbuffalo. I was soon within range, my horse flying like an arrow. 

"Is the animal asleep? I am within ten paces of him, and still he stirsnot! I will fire at him as he lies. "

I raised my rifle, levelled it, and was about to pull the trigger, whensomething red gleamed before my eyes. It was blood!

I lowered the piece with a feeling of terror, and commenced draggingupon the rein; but, before I could pull up, I was carried into the midstof the prostrate herd. Here my horse suddenly stopped, and I sat in mysaddle as if spell-bound. I was under the influence of a superstitiousawe. Blood was before me and around me. Turn which way I would, my eyerested upon blood!

My comrades closed in, yelling as they came; but their yelling suddenlyceased, and one by one reined up, as I had done, with looks ofconsternation and wonder. 

It was not strange, at such a sight. Before us lay the bodies of thebuffaloes. They were all dead, or quivering in the last throes. Eachbad a wound above the brisket, and from this the red stream gurled out, and trickled down their still panting sides. Blood welled from theirmouths and out of their nostrils. Pools of it were filtering throughthe prairie turf; and clotted gouts, flung out by the struggling hoof, sprinkled the grass around them!

"Oh, heavens! what could it mean?"

"Wagh! Santisima! Sacre Dieu!" were the exclamations of the hunters. 

"Surely no mortal hand has done this?"

"It wa'n't nuthin' else, " cried a well-known voice, "ef yur call anInjun a mortal. 'Twur a red-skin, and this child--look 'ee-e!"

I heard the click of a rifle along with this abrupt exclamation. Iturned suddenly. Rube was in the act of levelling his piece. My eyeinvoluntarily followed the direction of the barrel. There was an objectmoving in the long grass. 

"A buffalo that still kicks, " thought I, as I saw the mass of dark-brownhair; "he is going to finish him; it is the calf!"

I had scarcely made the observation when the animal reared up on itshind legs, uttering a wild human scream; the shaggy hide was flung off;and a naked savage appeared, holding out his arms in an attitude ofsupplication. 

I could not have saved him. The rifle had cracked, the ball had sped. I saw it piercing his brown breast, as a drop of sleet strikes upon thepane of glass; the red spout gushed forth, and the victim fell forwardupon the body of one of the animals. 

"Wagh! Rube!" exclaimed one of the men; "why didn't ye give him time toskin the meat? He mout as well 'a done that when he war about it;" andthe man laughed at his savage jest. 

"Look 'ee hyur, boyees!" said Rube, pointing to the motte; "if 'ee looksharp, yur mout scare up another calf yander away! I'm a-gwine to seearter this Injun's har; I am. "

The hunters, at the suggestion, galloped off to surround the motte. 

I felt a degree of irresolution and disgust at this cool shedding ofblood. I drew my rein almost involuntarily, and moved forward to thespot where the savage had fallen. He lay back uppermost. He was nakedto the breech-clout. There was the debouchure of a bullet below theleft shoulder, and the black-red stream was trickling down his ribs. The limbs still quivered, but it was in the last spasms of parting life. 

The hide in which he had disguised himself lay piled up where it hadbeen flung. Beside it were a bow and several arrows. The latter werecrimsoned to the notch, the feathers steeped in blood and clinging tothe shafts. They had pierced the huge bodies of the animals, passingthrough and through. Each arrow had taken many lives! The old trapperrode up to the corpse, and leisurely dismounted from his mare. 

"Fifty dollar a plew!" he muttered, unsheathing his knife and stoopingover the body. "It's more'n I got for my own. It beats beaver allhollow. Cuss beaver, say this child. Plew a plug--ain't worth trappin'if the varmint wur as thick as grass-jumpers in calf-time. 'Ee up, niggur, " he continued, grasping the long hair of the savage, and holdingthe face upward; "let's get a squint of your phisog. Hooraw! Coyote'Pash! Hooraw!"

And a gleam of triumph lit up the countenance of the old man as heuttered these wild exclamations. 

"Apash, is he?" asked one of the hunters, who had remained near thespot. 

"That he are, Coyote 'Pash, the very niggurs that bobtailed this child'sears. I kin swar to thur ugly picters anywhur I get my peepers upon'em. Wouwough--ole woofy! got 'ee at last, has he! Yur a beauty, an'no mistake. "

So saying, he gathered the long crown locks in his left hand, and withtwo slashes of his knife, held quarte and tierce, he cut a circle aroundthe top of the head, as perfect as if it had been traced by compasses. He then took a turn of the hair over his wrist, giving it a quick jerkoutward. At the same instant, the keen blade passed under the skin, andthe scalp was taken!

"Counts six, " he continued, muttering to himself while placing the scalpin his belt; "six at fifty--three hunder shiners for 'Pash har; cussbeaver trappin'! says I. "

Having secured the bleeding trophy, he wiped his knife upon the hair ofone of the buffaloes, and proceeded to cut a small notch in the woodworkof his gun, alongside five others that had been carved there already. These six notches stood for Apaches only; for as my eye wandered alongthe outlines of the piece, I saw that there were many other columns inthat terrible register!

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. 

ANOTHER "COUP. "

A shot ringing in my ears caused me to withdraw my attention from theproceedings of the earless trapper. As I turned I saw a blue cloudfloating away over the prairie, but I could not tell at what the shothad been fired. Thirty or forty of the hunters had surrounded themotte, and, halted, were sitting in their saddles in a kind of irregularcircle. They were still at some distance from the timber, as if keepingout of arrow-range. They held their guns crosswise, and were shoutingto one another. 

It was improbable that the savage was alone; doubtless there were someof his companions in the thicket. There could not be many, however, forthe underwood was not large enough to conceal more than a dozen bodies, and the keen eyes of the hunters were piercing it in every direction. 

They reminded me of so many huntsmen in a gorse waiting the game to besprung; but here, the game was human. 

It was a terrible spectacle. I looked towards Seguin, thinking that hemight interfere to prevent the barbarous battue. He noticed myinquiring glance, and turned his face from me. I fancied that he feltashamed of the work in which his followers were engaged; but thekilling, or capture, of whatever Indians might be in the motte had nowbecome a necessary measure, and I knew that any remonstrance of minewould be disregarded. As for the men themselves, they would havelaughed at it. This was their pastime, their profession, and I amcertain that, at that moment, their feelings were not very differentfrom those which would have actuated them had they been driving a bearfrom his den. They were, perhaps, a trifle more intense; certainly notmore inclined towards mercy. 

I reined up my horse, and awaited with painful emotions the _denouement_of this savage drama. 

"Vaya, Irlandes! What did you see?" inquired one of the Mexicans, appealing to Barney. I saw by this that it was the Irishman who hadfired the shot. 

"A rid-skin, by japers!" replied the latter. 

"Warn't it yer own shadder ye sighted in the water?" cried a hunter, jeeringly. 

"Maybe it was the divil, Barney?"

"In trath, frinds, I saw a somethin' that looked mighty like him, and Ikilt it too. "

"Ha! ha! Barney has killed the devil. Ha! ha!"

"Wagh!" exclaimed a trapper, spurring his horse toward the thicket; "thefool saw nothin'. I'll chance it, anyhow. "

"Stop, comrade!" cried the hunter Garey; "let's take a safer plan. Redhead's right. Thar's Injuns in them bushes, whether he seen it ornot; that skunk warn't by himself, I reckin; try this a way!"

The young trapper dismounted, and turned his horse broadside to thebushes. Keeping on the outside, he commenced walking the animal in aspiral ring that gradually closed in upon the clump. In this way hisbody was screened; and his head only could be seen above the pommel ofhis saddle, over which he rested his rifle, cocked and ready. 

Several others, observing this movement on the part of Garey, dismounted, and followed his example. 

A deep silence prevailed as they narrowed the diameters of theircircling courses. 

In a short time they were close in to the motte, yet still no arrowwhizzed out. Was there no one there? So it seemed; and the men pushedfearlessly into the thicket. 

I watched all this with excited feelings. I began to hope there was noone in the bushes. I listened to every sound; I heard the snapping ofthe twigs and the muttering of the men. There was a moment's silence asthey pushed eagerly forward. 

Then I heard a sudden exclamation, and a voice calling out--

"Dead red-skin! Hurrah for Barney!"

"Barney's bullet through him, by the holies!" cried another. "Hollo, old sky-blue! Come hyar and see what ye've done!"

The rest of the hunters, along with the _ci-devant_ soldier, now rodeforward to the copse. I moved slowly after. On coming up, I saw themdragging the body of an Indian into the open ground: a naked savage, like the other. He was dead, and they were preparing to scalp him. 

"Come now, Barney!" cried one of the men in a joking manner, "the har'syour'n. Why don't ye off wid it, man?"

"It's moine, dev yez say?" asked Barney, appealing to the speaker. 

"Sartinly; you killed him. It's your'n by right. "

"An' it is raaly worth fifty dollars?"

"Good as wheat for that. "

"Would yez be so frindly, thin, as to cut it aff for me?"

"Oh! sartinly, wid all the plizyer of life, " replied the hunter, imitating Barney's accent, at the same time severing the scalp, andhanding it to him. 

Barney took the hideous trophy, and I fancy that he did not feel veryproud of it. Poor Celt! he may have been guilty of many a breach in thelaws of garrison discipline, but it was evident that this was his firstlesson in the letting of human blood. 

The hunters now dismounted, and commenced trampling the thicket throughand through. The search was most minute, for there was still a mystery. An extra bow--that is to say, a third--had been found, with its quiverof arrows. Where was the owner? Could he have escaped from the thicketwhile the men were engaged around the fallen buffaloes? He might, though it was barely probable; but the hunters knew that these savagesrun more like wild animals, like hares, than human beings, and he mighthave escaped to the chapparal. 

"If that Injun has got clar, " said Garey, "we've no time to lose inskinnin' them bufflers. Thar's plenty o' his tribe not twenty milesfrom hyar, I calc'late. "

"Look down among the willows there!" cried the voice of the chief;"close down to the water. "

There was a pool. It was turbid and trampled around the edges withbuffalo tracks. On one side it was deep. Here willows dropped over andhung into the water. Several men pressed into this side, and commencedsounding the bottom with their lances and the butts of their rifles. 

Old Rube had come up among the rest, and was drawing the stopper of hispowder-horn with his teeth, apparently with the intention of reloading. His small dark eyes were scintillating every way at once: above, aroundhim, and into the water. 

A sudden thought seemed to enter his head. I saw him push back theplug, grasp the Irishman, who was nearest him, by the arm, and mutter, in a low and hurried voice, "Paddy! Barney! gi' us yur gun; quick, man, quick!"

Barney, at this earnest solicitation, immediately surrendered his piece, taking the empty rifle that was thrust into his hand by the trapper. 

Rube eagerly grasped the musket, and stood for a moment as if he wasabout to fire at some object in the pond. Suddenly he jerked his bodyround, and, poising the gun upward, fired into the thick foliage. 

A shrill scream followed; a heavy body came crashing through thebranches, and struck the ground at my feet. Warm drops sparkled into myeyes, causing me to wince. It was blood! I was blinded with it; Irubbed my eyes to clear them. I heard men rushing from all parts of thethicket. When I could see again, a naked savage was just disappearingthrough the leaves. 

"Missed him!" cried the trapper. "Away wi' yur sodger gun!" he added, flinging down the musket, and rushing after the savage with his drawnknife. 

I followed among the rest. I heard several shots as we scrambledthrough the brushwood. 

When I had got to the outer edge I could see the Indian still on hisfeet, and running with the speed of an antelope. He did not keep in adirect line, but zigzag, leaping from side to side, in order to bafflethe aim of his pursuers, whose rifles were all the time ringing behindhim. As yet none of their bullets had taken effect, at least so as tocripple him. There was a streak of blood visible on his brown body, butthe wound, wherever it was did not seem to hinder him in his flight. 

I thought there could be no chance of his escape, and I had no intentionof emptying my gun at such a mark. I remained, therefore, among thebushes, screening myself behind the leaves and watching the chase. 

Some of the hunters continued to follow him on foot, while the morecunning ones rushed back for their horses. These happened to be all onthe opposite side of the thicket, with one exception, and that was themare of the trapper Rube. She was browsing where Rube had dismounted, out among the slaughtered buffaloes, and directly in the line of thechase. 

As the savage approached her, a sudden thought seemed to strike him, anddiverging slightly from his course, he plucked up the picket-pin, coiledthe lasso with the dexterity of a gaucho, and sprang upon the animal'sback. 

It was a well-conceived idea, but unfortunate for the Indian. He hadscarcely touched the saddle when a peculiar shout was heard above allother sounds. It was a call uttered in the voice of the earlesstrapper. The mustang recognised it; and instead of running forward, obedient to the guidance of her rider, she wheeled suddenly and camegalloping back. At this moment a shot fired at the savage scorched herhip, and, setting back her ears, she commenced squealing and kicking soviolently that all her feet seemed to be in the air at the same time. 

The Indian now endeavoured to fling himself from the saddle; but thealternate plunging of the fore and hind quarters kept him for somemoments tossing in a sort of balance. He was at length pitched outward, and fell to the ground upon his back. Before he could recover himself aMexican had ridden up, and with his long lance pinned him to the earth. 

A scene followed in which Rube played the principal character; in fact, had "the stage to himself. "

"Sodger guns" were sent to perdition; and as the old trapper was angryabout the wound which his mare had received, "crook-eyed greenhorns"came in for a share of his anathemas. The mustang, however, hadsustained no serious damage; and after this was ascertained, theemphatic ebullitions of her master's anger subsided into a low growling, and then ceased altogether. 

As there appeared no sign that there were other savages in theneighbourhood, the next concern of the hunters was to satisfy theirhunger. Fires were soon kindled, and a plenteous repast of buffalo meatproduced the desired effect. 

After the meal was ended, a consultation was held. It was agreed thatwe should move forward to the old mission, which was known to be notover ten miles distant. We could there defend ourselves in case of anattack from the tribe of Coyoteros, to which the three savages belonged. It was feared by all that these might strike our trail, and come upwith us before we could take our departure from the ruin. 

The buffaloes were speedily skinned and packed, and taking a westerlycourse, we journeyed on to the mission. 

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE. 

A BITTER TRAP. 

We reached the ruin a little after sunset. We frightened the owl andthe wolf, and made our bivouac among the crumbling walls. Our horseswere picketed upon the deserted lawns, and in the long-neglectedorchards, where the ripe fruit was raining down its ungathered showers. Fires were kindled, lighting the grey pile with their cheerful blazing;and joints of meat were taken out of the hide-packs and roasted forsupper. 

There was water in abundance. A branch of the San Pedro swept past thewalls of the mission. There were yams in the spoliated gardens; therewere grapes, and pomegranates, and quinces, and melons, and pears, andpeaches, and apples; and with all these was our repast garnished. 

It was soon over, and videttes were thrown out on the tracks that led tothe ruin. The men were weak and weary with their late fasting, and in ashort while stretched themselves by their saddles and slept. 

So much for our first night at the mission of San Pedro. 

We were to remain for three days, or until the buffalo meat should bedried for packing. 

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They were irksome days to me. Idleness displayed the bad qualities ofmy half-savage associates. The ribald jest and fearful oath rangcontinually in my ears, until I was fain to wander off to the woods withthe old botanist, who, during these three days, revelled in the happyexcitement of discovery. 

I found companionship also in the Maricopa. This strange man hadstudied science deeply, and was conversant with almost every notedauthor. He was reserved only when I wished him to talk of himself. 

Seguin during these days was taciturn and lonely. He took but littleheed of what was going on around him. He seemed to be suffering fromimpatience, as every now and then he paid a visit to the tasajo. Hepassed many hours upon the adjacent heights, looking anxiously towardsthe east: that point whence our spies would come in from the Pinon. 

There was an azotea on the ruin. I was in the habit of seeking thisplace at evening after the sun had grown less fervid. It afforded afine prospect of the valley; but its chief attraction to me lay in theretirement I could there obtain. The hunters rarely climbed up to it, and their wild and licenced converse was unheard for the time. I usedto spread my blanket among the crumbling parapets, and stretched uponit, deliver myself up to the sweet retrospect, or to still sweeterdreams that my fancy outlined upon the future. There was one object onmy memory: upon that object only did my hopes dwell. 

I need not make this declaration; at least to those who have trulyloved. 

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In the programme placed before me by Seguin, I had not bargained forsuch wanton cruelties as I was now compelled to witness. It was not thetime to look back, but forward, and perhaps, over other scenes of bloodand brutality, to that happier hour, when I should have redeemed mypromise, and won the prize, beautiful Zoe. 

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My reverie was interrupted. I heard voices and footsteps; they wereapproaching the spot where I lay. I could see that there were two menengaged in an earnest conversation. They did not notice me, as I wasbehind some fragments of the broken parapet, and in the shadow. As theydrew nearer, I recognised the patois of my Canadian follower, and thatof his companion was not to be mistaken. The brogue was Barney's, beyond a doubt. 

These worthies, I had lately noticed, had become "as thick as twothieves, " and were much in each other's company. Some act of kindnesshad endeared the "infantry" to his more astute and experiencedassociate, who had taken him under his patronage and protection. 

I was vexed at the intrusion; but prompted by some impulse of curiosity, I lay still and listened. 

Barney was speaking as they approached. 

"In trath, Misther Gowdey, an' it's meself 'ud go far this blissed nightfor a dhrap o' the crayter. I noticed the little kig afore; but divilresave me av I thought it was anythin' barrin' cowld water. Vistment!only think o' the owld Dutch sinner bringin' a whole kig wid 'im, an'keepin' it all to himself. Yez are sure now it's the stuff?"

"Oui! oui! C'est liqueur! aguardiente. "

"Agwardenty, ye say, div ye?"

"Oui! c'est vrai, Monsieur Barney. I have him smell, ver many time. Itis of stink tres fort: strong! good!"

"But why cudn't ye stale it yerself? Yez know exactly where the doctorkeeps it, an' ye might get at it a hape handier than I can. "

"Pourquoi, Barney? pecause, mon ami, I help pack les possibles ofMonsieur le docteur. Pardieu! he would me suspect. "

"I don't see the raison clear. He may suspect ye at all evints. Howthin?"

"Ah! then, n'importe. I sall make von grand swear. No! I sall havever clear conscience then. "

"Be the powers! we must get the licker anyhow; av you won't, MistherGowdey, I will; that's said, isn't it?"

"Oui! Tres bien!"

"Well, thin, now or niver's the time. The ould fellow's just walkedout, for I saw him meself. This is a nate place to drink it in. Comean' show me where he keeps it; and, by Saint Patrick! I'm yer man tohook it. "

"Tres bien! allons! Monsieur Barney, allons!"

Unintelligible as this conversation may appear, I understood every wordof it. The naturalist had brought among his packs a small keg ofaguardiente, mezcal spirits, for the purpose of preserving any newspecies of the lizard or snake tribe he should chance to fall in with. What I heard, then, was neither more or less than a plot to steal thekeg and its contents!

My first impulse was to leap up and stop them in their design, as wellas administer a salutary rebuke to my voyageur and his red-hairedcompanion; but a moment's reflection convinced me that they could bebetter punished in another way. I would leave them to punishthemselves. 

I remembered that some days previous to our reaching the Ojo de Vaca, the doctor had captured a snake of the adder kind, two or three speciesof lizards, and a hideous-looking animal, called, in hunter phraseology, the horned frog: the _agama cornuta_ of Texas and Mexico. These he hadimmersed in the spirit for preservation. I had observed him do so, andit was evident that neither my Frenchman nor the Irishman had any ideaof this. I adopted the resolution, therefore, to let them drink a fullbumper of the "pickle" before I should interfere. 

Knowing that they would soon return, I remained where I was. 

I had not long to wait upon them. In a few minutes they came up, Barneycarrying what I knew to be the devoted keg. 

They sat down close to where I lay, and prising out the bung, filled theliquor into their tin cups, and commenced imbibing. 

A drouthier pair of mortals could not have been found anywhere; and atthe first draught, each emptied his cup to the bottom!

"It has a quare taste, hasn't it?" said Barney, after he had taken thevessel from his lips. 

"Oui! c'est vrai, monsieur!"

"What dev ye think it is?"

"Je ne sais quoi. It smells like one--one--"

"Is it fish, ye mane?"

"Oui! like one feesh: un bouquet tres bizarre Fichtro!"

"I suppose it's something that the Mexicans have drapped in to give theagwardenty a flayver. It's mighty strong anyhow. It's nothing theworse av that; but it 'ud be sorry drinkin' alongside a nate dimmyjan ofIrish patyeen. Och! mother av Moses! but that's the raal bayvaridge!"

Here the Irishman shook his head to express with more emphasis hisadmiration of the native whisky. 

"Well, Misther Gowdey, " continued he, "whisky's whisky at any rate; andif we can't get the butther, it's no raison we should refuse the brid;so I'll thank ye for another small thrifle out of the kig, " and thespeaker held out his tin vessel to be replenished. 

Gode lifted the keg, and emptied more of its contents into their cups. 

"Mon Dieu! what is dis in my cops?" exclaimed he, after a draught. 

"Fwhat is it? Let me see. That! Be me sowl! that's a quare-lookingcrayter anyhow. "

"Sac-r-r-re! it is von Texan! von fr-r-og! Dat is de feesh we smellstink. Owah--ah--ah!"

"Oh! holy mother! if here isn't another in moine! By jabers! it's ascorpion lizard! Hoach--wach--wach!"

"Ow--ah--ah--ack--ack! Mon Dieu! Oach--ach--! Sac-r! O--ach--ach--o--oa--a--ach!"

"Tare-an-ages! He--ach! the owld doctor has--oach--ack--ack! BlessedVargin! Ha--he--hoh--ack! Poison! poison!"

And the brace of revellers went staggering over the azotea, deliveringtheir stomachs, and ejaculating in extreme terror as the thought struckthem that there might be poison in the pickle. 

I had risen to my feet, and was enjoying the joke in loud laughter. This and the exclamations of the men brought a crowd of hunters up tothe roof, who, as soon as they perceived what had happened, joined in, and made the ruin ring with their wild peals. 

The doctor, who had come up among the rest, was not so well satisfiedwith the occurrence. After a short search, however, the lizards werefound and returned to the keg, which still contained enough of thespirit for his purposes. It was not likely to be disturbed again, evenby the thirstiest hunter in the band. 

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. 

THE PHANTOM CITY. 

On the morning of the fourth day our spies came in, and reported thatthe Navajoes had taken the southern trail. 

They had returned to the spring on the second day after our leaving it, and thence had followed the guiding of the arrows. It was Dacoma'sband, in all about three hundred warriors. 

Nothing remained for us now but to pack up as quickly as possible, andpursue our march to the north. 

In an hour we were in our saddles, and following the rocky banks of theSan Pedro. 

A long day's journey brought us to the desolate valley of the Gila, uponwhose waters we encamped for the night. We slept near the celebratedruins, the second resting-place of the migrating Aztecs. 

With the exception of the botanist, the Coco chief, myself, and perhapsSeguin, no one in the band seemed to trouble himself about theseinteresting antiquities. The sign of grizzly bears, that was discoveredupon the mud bottom, gave the hunters far more concern than the brokenpottery and its painted hieroglyphics. Two of these animals werediscovered near the camp, and a fierce battle ensued, in which one ofthe Mexicans nearly lost his life, escaping only after most of the skinhad been clawed from his head and neck. The bears themselves werekilled, and made part of our suppers. 

Our next day's march lay up the Gila, to the mouth of the San Carlosriver, where we again halted for the night. The San Carlos runs in fromthe north; and Seguin had resolved to travel up this stream for ahundred miles or so, and afterwards strike eastward to the country ofthe Navajoes. 

When this determination was made known, a spirit of discontent showeditself among the men, and mutinous whisperings were heard on all sides. 

Shortly after we halted, however, several of them strayed up the banksof the stream, and gathered some grains of gold out of its bed. Indications of the precious metal, the quixa, known among the Mexicansas the "gold mother, " were also found among the rocks. There wereminers in the band, who knew it well, and this served to satisfy them. There was no more talk of keeping on to the Prieto. Perhaps the SanCarlos might prove equally rich. Rumour had also given it the title ofa "golden river"; at all events, the expedition must cross the headwaters of the Prieto in its journey eastward; and this prospect had theeffect of quieting the mutineers, at least for the time. 

There was another influence: the character of Seguin. There was nosingle individual in the band who cared to cross him on slight grounds. They knew him too well for that; and though few of these men set highvalue on their lives, when they believe themselves, according to"mountain law, " in the right, yet they knew that to delay the expeditionfor the purpose of gathering gold was neither according to their compactwith him nor agreeable to his wishes. Not a few of the band, moreover, were actuated by motives similar to those felt by Seguin himself, andthese were equally desirous of pushing on to the Navajo towns. 

Still another consideration had its influence upon the majority. Theparty of Dacoma would be on our track as soon as they had returned fromthe Apache trail. We had, therefore, no time to waste in gold-hunting, and the simplest of the scalp-hunters knew this. 

By daybreak we were again on the march, and riding up the banks of theSan Carlos. 

We had now entered the great desert which stretches northward from theGila away to the head waters of the Colorado. We entered it without aguide, for not one of the band had ever traversed these unknown regions. Even Rube knew nothing about this part of the country. We were withoutcompass, too, but this we heeded not. There were few in the band whocould not point to the north or the south within the variation of adegree: few of them but could, night or day, tell by the heavens withinten minutes of the true time. Give them but a clear sky, with the signsof the trees and rocks, and they needed neither compass nor chronometer. A life spent beneath the blue heavens of the prairie uplands and themountain parks, where a roof rarely obstructed their view of the azurevaults, had made astronomers of these reckless rovers. 

Of such accomplishments was their education, drawn from many a perilousexperience. To me their knowledge of such things seemed instinct. 

But we had a guide as to our direction, unerring as the magnetic needle:we were traversing the region of the "polar plant, " the planes of whoseleaves, at almost every step, pointed out our meridian. It grew uponour track, and was crushed under the hoofs of our horses as we rodeonward. 

We travelled northward through a country of strange-looking mountains, whose tops shot heavenward in fantastic forms and groupings. At onetime we saw semi-globular shapes like the domes of churches; at another, Gothic turrets rose before us; and the next opening brought in viewsharp needle-pointed peaks, shooting upward into the blue sky. We sawcolumnar forms supporting others that lay horizontally: vast boulders oftrap-rock, suggesting the idea of some antediluvian ruin, some temple ofgigantic Druids!

Along with singularity of formation was the most brilliant colouring. There were stratified rocks, red, white, green, and yellow, as vivid intheir hues as if freshly touched from the palette of the painter. 

No smoke had tarnished them since they had been flung up from theirsubterranean beds. No cloud draped their naked outlines. It was not aland of clouds, for as we journeyed amongst them we saw not a speck inthe heavens; nothing above us but the blue and limitless ether. 

I remembered the remarks of Seguin. 

There was something inspiriting in the sight of these bright mountains;something life-like, that prevented us from feeling the extreme and realdesolation by which we were surrounded. At times we could not helpfancying that we were in a thickly-populated country--a country of vastwealth and civilisation, as appeared from its architectural grandeur. Yet in reality we were journeying through the wildest of earth'sdominions, where no human foot ever trod excepting such as wear themoccasin; the region of the "wolf" Apache and the wretched Yamparico. 

We travelled up the banks of the river, and here and there, at ourhalting-places, searching for the shining metal. It could be found onlyin small quantities, and the hunters began to talk loudly of the Prieto. There, according to them, the yellow gold lay in lumps. 

On the fourth day after leaving the Gila, we came to a place where theSan Carlos canoned through a high sierra. Here we halted for the night. When morning came, we found we could follow the river no fartherwithout climbing over the mountain; and Seguin announced his intentionof leaving it and striking eastward. The hunters responded to thisdeclaration with a joyous hurrah. The golden vision was again beforethem. 

We remained at the San Carlos until after the noon heat, recruiting ourhorses by the stream; then mounting, we rode forward into the plain. Itwas our intention to travel all night, or until we reached water, as weknew that without this, halting would be useless. 

We had not ridden far until we saw that a fearful Jornada was beforeus--one of those dreaded stretches without grass, wood, or water. Aheadof us we could see a low range of mountains, trending from north tosouth, and beyond these, another range still higher than the first. Onthe farther range there were snowy summits. We saw that they weredistinct chains, and that the more distant was of great elevation. Thiswe knew from the appearance upon its peaks of the eternal snow. 

We knew, moreover, that at the foot of the snowy range we should findwater, perhaps the river we were in search of; but the distance wasimmense. If we did not find it at the nearer sierra, we should have anadventure: the danger of perishing from thirst. Such was the prospect. 

We rode on over the arid soil; over plains of lava and cut-rock thatwounded the hoofs of our horses, laming many. There was no vegetationaround us except the sickly green of the artemisia, or the fetid foliageof the creosote plant. There was no living thing to be seen save thebrown and hideous lizard, the rattlesnake, and the desert crickets thatcrawled in myriads along the parched ground, and were crunched under thehoofs of our animals. "Water!" was the word that began to be uttered inseveral languages. 

"Water!" cried the choking trapper. 

"L'eau!" ejaculated the Canadian. 

"Agua! agua!" shouted the Mexican. 

We were not twenty miles from the San Carlos before our gourd canteenswere as dry as a shingle. The dust of the plains and the hot atmospherehad created unusual thirst, and we had soon emptied them. 

We had started late in the afternoon. At sundown the mountains ahead ofus did not seem a single mile nearer. We travelled all night, and whenthe sun rose again we were still a good distance from them. Such is theillusory character of this elevated and crystal atmosphere. 

The men mumbled as they talked. They held in their mouths leadenbullets and pebbles of obsidian, which they chewed with a desperatefierceness. 

It was some time after sunrise when we arrived at the mountain foot. Toour consternation no water could be found!

The mountains were a range of dry rocks, so parched-like and barren thateven the creosote bush could not find nourishment along their sides. They were as naked of vegetation as when the volcanic fires first heavedthem into the light. 

Parties scattered in all directions, and went up the ravines; but aftera long while spent in fruitless wandering, we abandoned the search indespair. 

There was a pass that appeared to lead through the range; and enteringthis, we rode forward in silence and with gloomy thoughts. 

We soon debouched on the other side, when a scene of singular characterburst upon our view. 

A plain lay before us, hemmed in on all sides by high mountains. On itsfarther edge was the snowy ridge, with stupendous cliffs risingvertically from the plain, towering thousands of feet in height. Darkrocks seemed piled upon each other, higher and higher, until they becameburied under robes of the spotless snow. 

But that which appeared most singular was the surface of the plain. Itwas covered with a mantle of virgin whiteness, apparently of snow; andyet the more elevated spot from which we viewed it was naked, with a hotsun shining upon it. What we saw in the valley, then, could not besnow. 

As I gazed over the monotonous surface of this plain, and then lookedupon the chaotic mountains that walled it in, my mind became impressedwith ideas of coldness and desolation. It seemed as if everything wasdead around us, and Nature was laid out in her winding-sheet. I sawthat my companions experienced similar feelings, but no one spoke; andwe commenced riding down the pass that led into this singular valley. 

As far as we could see, there was no prospect of water on the plain; butwhat else could we do than cross it? On its most distant border, alongthe base of the snowy mountains, we thought we could distinguish a blackline, like that of timber, and for this point we directed our march. 

On reaching the plain, what had appeared like snow proved to be soda. Adeep incrustation of this lay upon the ground, enough to satisfy thewants of the whole human race; yet there it lay, and no hand had everstooped to gather it. 

Three or four rocky buttes were in our way, near the debouchure of thepass. As we rounded them, getting farther out into the plain, a widegap began to unfold itself, opening through the mountains beyond. Through this gap the sun's rays were streaming in, throwing a band ofyellow light across one end of the valley. In this the crystals of thesoda, stirred up by the breeze, appeared floating in myriads. 

As we descended, I observed that objects began to assume a verydifferent aspect from what they had exhibited from above. As if byenchantment, the cold snowy surface all at once disappeared. Greenfields lay before us, and tall trees sprang up, covered with a thick andverdant frondage!

"Cotton-woods!" cried a hunter, as his eye rested on these still distantgroves. 

"Tall saplins at that--wagh!" ejaculated another. 

"Water thar, fellers, I reckin!" remarked a third. 

"Yes, siree! Yer don't see such sprouts as them growin' out o' a dryparaira. Look! Hollo!"

"By gollies, yonder's a house!"

"A house? One, two, three! A house? Thar's a whole town, if thar's asingle shanty. Gee! Jim, look yonder! Wagh!"

I was riding in front with Seguin, the rest of the band strung outbehind us. I had been for some time gazing upon the ground, in a sortof abstraction, looking: at the snow-white efflorescence, and listeningto the crunching of my horse's hoofs through its icy incrustation. These exclamatory phrases caused me to raise my eyes. The sight thatmet them was one that made me rein up with a sudden jerk. Seguin haddone the same, and I saw that the whole band had halted with a similarimpulse. 

We had just cleared one of the buttes that had hitherto obstructed ourview of the great gap. This was now directly in front of us; and alongits base, on the southern side, rose the walls and battlements of acity--a vast city, judging from its distance and the colossal appearanceof its architecture. We could trace the columns of temples, and doors, and gates, and windows, and balconies, and parapets, and spires. Therewere many towers rising high over the roofs, and in the middle was atemple-like structure, with its massive dome towering far above all theothers. 

I looked upon this sudden apparition with a feeling of incredulity. Itwas a dream, an imagination, a mirage. Ha! it was the mirage!

No! The mirage could not effect such a complete picture. There werethe roofs, and chimneys, and walls, and windows. There were theparapets of fortified houses, with their regular notches and embrasures. It was a reality. It was a city!

Was it the Cibolo of the Spanish padre? Was it that city of goldengates and burnished towers? After all, was the story of the wanderingpriest true? Who had proved it a fable? Who had ever penetrated thisregion, the very country in which the ecclesiastic represented thegolden city of Cibolo to exist?

I saw that Seguin was puzzled, dismayed, as well as myself. He knewnothing of this land. He had never witnessed a mirage like that. 

For some time we sat in our saddles, influenced by strange emotions. Shall we go forward? Yes! We must reach water. We are dying ofthirst; and, impelled by this, we spur onward. 

We had ridden only a few paces farther when the hunters uttered a suddenand simultaneous cry. A new object--an object of terror--was before us. Along the mountain foot appeared a string of dark forms. They weremounted men!

We dragged our horses to their haunches, our whole line halting as oneman. 

"Injuns!" was the exclamation of several. 

"Indians they must be, " muttered Seguin. "There are no others here. Indians! No! There never were such as them. See! they are not men!Look! their huge horses, their long guns; they are giants! By Heaven!"continued he, after a moment's pause, "they are bodiless! They arephantoms!"

There were exclamations of terror from the hunters behind. 

Were these the inhabitants of the city? There was a striking proportionin the colossal size of the horses and the horsemen. 

For a moment I was awe-struck like the rest. Only a moment. A suddenmemory flashed upon me. I thought of the Hartz Mountains and theirdemons. I knew that the phenomenon before us could be no other; anoptical delusion; a creation of the mirage. 

I raised my hand above my head. The foremost of the giants imitated themotion. 

I put spurs to my horse and galloped forward. So did he, as if to meetme. After a few springs I had passed the refracting angle, and, like athought, the shadowy giants vanished into the air. 

The men had ridden forward after me, and having also passed the angle ofrefraction saw no more of the phantom host. 

The city, too, had disappeared; but we could trace the outlines of manya singular formation in the trap-rock strata that traversed the edge ofthe valley. 

The tall groves were no longer to be seen; but a low belt of greenwillows, real willows, could be distinguished along the foot of themountain within the gap. Under their foliage there was something thatsparkled in the sun like sheets of silver. It was water! It was abranch of the Prieto. 

Our horses neighed at the sight; and, shortly after, we had alightedupon its banks, and were kneeling before the sweet spirit of the stream. 

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE. 

THE MOUNTAIN OF GOLD. 

After so fatiguing a march, it was necessary to make a longer halt thanusual. We stayed by the arroyo all that day and the following night. But the hunters longed to drink from the Prieto itself; and the nextmorning we drew our pickets, and rode in the direction of that river. By noon we were upon its banks. 

A singular stream it was, running through a region of bleak, barren, anddesolate mountains. Through these the stream had forged its way bynumerous canons, and rushed along a channel at most places inaccessible. It was a black and gloomy river. Where were its sands of gold?

After riding for some distance along its banks, we halted at a pointwhere its bed could be reached. The hunters, disregarding all else, clambered eagerly over the steep bluffs, and descended to the water. They hardly stayed to drink. They crawled through narrow interstices, between detached masses of rock that had fallen from above. They liftedthe mud in their hands, and washed it in their cups; they hammered thequartz rock with their tomahawks, and pounded it between great stones. Not a particle of the precious metal could be found. They must eitherhave struck the river too high up, or else the El Dorado lay stillfarther to the north. 

Wet, weary, angry, uttering oaths and expressions of disappointment, they obeyed the signal to march forward. 

We rode up the stream, halting for the night at another place where thewater was accessible to our animals. 

Here the hunters again searched for gold, and again found it not. Mutinous murmurs were now spoken aloud. "The gold country lay belowthem; they had no doubt of it. The chief took them by the San Carlos onpurpose to disappoint them. He knew this would prevent delay. He carednot for them. His own ends were all he wanted to accomplish. Theymight go back as poor as they had come, for aught he cared. They wouldnever have so good a chance again. "

Such were their mutterings, embellished with many an oath. 

Seguin either heard not or did not heed them. He was one of thosecharacters who can patiently bear until a proper cue for action mayoffer itself. He was fiery by nature, like all Creoles; but time andtrials had tempered him to that calmness and coolness that befitted theleader of such a band. When roused to action, he became what is styledin western phraseology a "dangerous man"; and the scalp-hunters knew it. He heeded not their murmurings. 

Long before daybreak, we were once more in our saddles, and movingonward, still up the Prieto. We had observed fires at a distance duringthe night, and we knew that they were at the villages of the "Club"Apache. We wished to pass their country without being seen; and it wasour intention, when daylight appeared, to "cacher" among the rocks untilthe following night. 

As dawn advanced, we halted in a concealed ravine, whilst several of usclimbed the hill to reconnoitre. We could see the smoke rising over thedistant villages; but we had passed them in the darkness, and instead ofremaining in cache, we continued on through a wide plain covered withsage and cactus plants. Mountains towered up on every side of us as weadvanced. They rose directly from the plains, exhibiting the fantasticshapes which characterise them in those regions. Their stupendousprecipices overlooked the bleak, barren tables frowning upon them insublime silence. The plains themselves ran into the very bases ofthese, cliffs. Water had surely washed them. These plateaux had oncebeen the bed of an ancient ocean. I remembered Seguin's theory of theinland seas. 

Shortly after sunrise, the trail we were following led us to an Indiancrossing. Here we forded the stream with the intention of leaving itand heading eastward. 

We halted our horses in the water, permitting them to drink freely. Some of the hunters, moving ahead of the rest, had climbed the highbanks. We were attracted by their unusual exclamations. On lookingupward, we perceived several of them standing on the top of a hill, andpointing to the north in an earnest and excited manner. Could it beIndians?

"What is it?" shouted Seguin, as we pushed forward. 

"A gold mountain! a gold mountain!" was the reply. 

We spurred our horses hurriedly up the hill. On reaching its top, astrange sight met our gaze. Away to the north, and as far as the eyecould see, an object glistened in the sun. It was a mountain, and alongits sides, from base to summit, the rocks glittered with the brightsemblance of gold! A thousand jets danced in the sunbeams, dazzling theeye as it looked upon them. Was it a mountain of gold?

The men were in a frenzy of delight. This was the mountain so oftendiscussed over the bivouac fires. Who of them had not heard of it, whether credulous or not? It was no fable, then. There it was beforethem, in all its burning splendour. 

I turned to look at Seguin. His brow was bent. There was theexpression of anxiety on his countenance. He understood the illusion;so did the Maricopa; so did Reichter. I knew it too. At a glance I hadrecognised the sparkling scales of the selenite. 

Seguin saw that there was a difficulty before us. This dazzlinghallucination lay far out of our course; but it was evident that neithercommands nor persuasion would be heeded now. The men were resolved uponreaching it. Some of them had already turned their horses' heads andwere moving in that direction. 

Seguin ordered them back. A stormy altercation ensued; in short, amutiny. 

In vain Seguin urged the necessity of our hastening forward to the town. In vain he represented the danger we were in of being overtaken byDacoma's party, who by this time were upon our trail. In vain the Cocochief, the doctor, and myself, assured our uneducated companions thatwhat they saw was but the glancing surface of a worthless rock. The menwere obstinate. The sight, operating upon long-cherished hopes, hadintoxicated them. They had lost all reason. They were mad. 

"On, then!" cried Seguin, making a desperate effort to restrain hispassion. "On, madmen, and satisfy yourselves--our lives may answer foryour folly!" and, so saying, he turned his horse, and headed him for theshining beacon. 

The men rode after, uttering loud and joyful acclamations. 

At the end of a long day's ride we reached the base of the mountain. The hunters leaped from their horses, and clambered up to the glitteringrocks. They reached them. They broke them with their tomahawks andpistol-butts, and cleft them with their knives. They tore off theplates of mica and glassy selenite. They flung them at their feet, abashed and mortified; and, one after another, came back to the plainwith looks of disappointment and chagrin. Not one of them said a word, as they climbed into their saddles, and rode sullenly after the chief. 

We had lost a day by this bootless journey; but our consolation lay inthe belief that our Indian pursuers, following upon our trail, wouldmake the same detour. 

Our course now lay to the south-west; but finding a spring not far fromthe foot of the mountain, we remained by it for the night. 

After another day's march in a south-easterly course, Rube recognisedthe profiles of the mountains. We were nearing the great town of theNavajoes. 

That night we encamped on a running water, a branch of the Prieto thatheaded to the eastward. A vast chasm between two cliffs marked thecourse of the stream above us. The guide pointed into the gap, as werode forward to our halting-place. 

"What is it, Rube?" inquired Seguin. 

"'Ee see that gully ahead o' us?"

"Yes; what of it?"

"The town's thur. "

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX. 

NAVAJOA. 

It was near evening of the next day when we arrived at the foot of thesierra, at the debouchure of the canon. We could not follow the streamany farther, as there was no path by the channel. It would be necessaryto pass over the ridge that formed the southern jaw of the chasm. Therewas a plain trail among scrubby pines; and, following our guide, wecommenced riding up the mountain. 

After ascending for an hour or so, by a fearful road along the verybrink of the precipice, we climbed the crest of the ridge, and lookedeastward. We had reached the goal of our journey. The town of theNavajoes was before us. 

"Voila!"

"Mira el pueblo!"

"Thar's the town!"

"Hurrah!" were the exclamations that broke from the hunters. 

"Oh, God! at last it is!" muttered Seguin, with a singular expression ofcountenance. "Oh, God be praised! Halt, comrades! halt!"

Our reins were tightened, and we sat on our weary horses looking overthe plain. A magnificent panorama, magnificent under any circumstances, lay before us; but its interest was heightened by the peculiarcircumstances under which we viewed it. 

We are at the western extremity of an oblong valley, looking up itlengthwise. It is not a valley, though so called in the language ofSpanish America, but a plain walled in on all sides by mountains. It iselliptical in form, the diameter of its foci being ten or twelve milesin length. Its shortest diameter is five or six miles. It has thesurface of a green meadow, and its perfect level is unbroken by brake, bush, or hillock. It looks like some quiet lake transformed into anemerald. 

It is bisected by a line of silvery brightness that curves gracefullythrough its whole extent, marking the windings of a crystal stream. 

But the mountains! What wild-looking mountains, particularly those onthe north side of the valley! They are granite upheaved. Nature musthave warred at the birth of these; the very sight of them suggests thethroes of a troubled planet. Huge rocks hang over, only half restingupon fearful precipices; vast boulders that seem as though the touch ofa feather would cause them to topple down. Grim chasms open into deep, dark defiles, that lie silent, and solemn, and frowning. Here andthere, stunted trees, the cedar and pinon, hang horizontally out, clinging along the cliffs. The unsightly limbs of the cactus, and thegloomy foliage of the creosote bush, grow together in seams of therocks, heightening their character of ruggedness and gloom. Such is thesouthern barrier of the valley. 

Look upon the northern sierra! Here is a contrast, a new geology. Nota rock of granite meets the eye; but there are others piled as high, andglistening with the whiteness of snow. These are mountains of the milkyquartz. They exhibit a variety of peaks, naked and shining; crags thathang over deep, treeless ravines, and needle-shaped summits aspiring tothe sky. They too have their vegetation, a vegetation that suggestsideas of the desert and desolation. 

The two sierras appear to converge at the eastern end of the valley. Weare upon a transverse ridge that shuts it in upon the west, and fromthis point we view the picture. 

Where the valley ends eastwardly, we perceive a dark background lying upagainst the mountains. We know it is a pine-forest, but we are at toogreat a distance to distinguish the trees. Out of this forest thestream appears to issue; and upon its banks, near the border of thewoods, we perceive a collection of strange pyramidal structures. Theyare houses. It is the town of Navajoa! Our eyes were directed upon itwith eager gaze. We could trace the outlines of the houses, though theystood nearly ten miles distant. They suggested images of a strangearchitecture. There were some standing apart from the rest, withterraced roofs, and we could see there were banners waving over them. One, larger than the rest, presented the appearance of a temple. It wasout on the open plain, and by the glass we could detect numerous formsclustered upon its top--the forms of human beings. There were othersupon the roofs and parapets of the smaller houses; and many more movingupon the plain nearer us, driving before them flocks of animals, mules, and mustangs. Some were down upon the banks of the river, and others wecould see plunging about in the water. 

Several droves of horses, whose mottled flanks showed their breed, werequietly browsing on the open prairie. Flocks of wild swans, geese, andgruyas winged their way up and down the meandering current of thestream. 

The sun was setting. The mountains were tinged with an amber-colouredlight; and the quartzose crystals sparkled on the peaks of the southernsierra. 

It was a scene of silent beauty. How long, thought I, ere its silencewould be broken by the sounds of ravage and ruin!

We remained for some time gazing up the valley, without anyone utteringhis thoughts. It was the silence that precedes resolve. In the mindsof my companions there were varied emotions at play, varied in kind asthey differed in intensity. 

Some were holy. Men sat straining their eyes over the long reach ofmeadow, thinking, or fancying, that in the distance they mightdistinguish a loved object--a wife, a sister, a daughter, or perhaps theobject of a still dearer and deeper affection. No; the last could notbe. None could have been more deeply affected than he who was seekingfor his child. A father's love was the strongest passion there. 

Alas! there were other emotions in the bosoms of those around me, passions dark and sinful. Fierce looks were bent upon the town. Someof these betokened fierce feelings of revenge; others indicated thedesire of plunder; and others still spoke, fiend-like, of murder! Therehad been mutterings of this from day to day as we journeyed. Mendisappointed in their golden dreams had been heard to talk about theprice of scalps!

By a command from Seguin the hunters drew back among the trees, andentered into a hurried council. How was the town to be taken? We couldnot approach it in the open light. The inhabitants would see us beforewe could ride up, and make their escape to the forest beyond. Thiswould defeat the whole purpose of our expedition. 

Could not a party get round to the eastern end of the valley and preventthis? Not through the plain itself, for the mountains rested upon itssurface, without either foothills or paths along their sides. In someplaces vast cliffs rose to the height of a thousand feet, steppingdirectly upon the level plain. This idea was given up. 

Could we not turn the southern sierra, and come in through the forestitself? This would bring us close to the houses under cover. The guidewas questioned, and answered in the affirmative. But that could only beaccomplished by making a detour of nearly fifty miles. We had no timefor such a journey, and the thought was abandoned. 

The town, then, must be approached in the night. This was the only planpracticable; at least, the most likely to succeed. It was adopted. 

It was not Seguin's intention to make a night attack, but only tosurround the buildings, keeping at some distance out, and remain inambush till the morning. All retreat would thus be cut off, and weshould make sure of taking our captives under the light of day. 

The men threw themselves to the ground, and, holding their bridles, waited the going down of the sun. 

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN. 

THE NIGHT AMBUSCADE. 

A short hour passes. The bright orb sinks behind us, and the quartzrock saddens into a sombre hue. The straggling rays of twilight hoverbut a moment over the chalky cliffs, and then vanish away. It is night. 

Descending the hills in a long string, we arrive upon the plain. Weturn to the left, and keep round the mountain foot. The rocks guide us. 

We proceed with caution, and exchange our words only in whispers. Wecrawl around and among loose boulders that have fallen from above. Weturn many spurs that shoot out into the plain. Occasionally we halt andhold council. 

After a journey of ten or twelve miles, we find ourselves opposite theIndian town. We are not over a mile from it. We can see the firesburning on the plain, and hear the voices of those who move around them. 

At this point the band is divided. A small party remains making itscache in a defile among the rocks. These guard the captive chief andthe antajo of mules. The rest move forward, guided by Rube, who carriesthem round the edge of the forest, here and there dropping a picket ofseveral men as he proceeds. 

These parties conceal themselves at their respective stations, remainsilent, and wait for the signal from the bugle, which is to be given atthe hour of daybreak. 

The night passes slowly and silently. The fires one by one go out, until the plain is wrapt in the gloom of a moonless midnight. Darkclouds travel over the sky, portending rain: a rare phenomenon in theseregions. The swan utters its wild note, the gruya whoops over thestream, and the wolf howls upon the skirts of the sleeping village. Thevoice of the bull-bat wails through the air. You hear the "flap, flap"of his long wings as he dashes down among the cocuyos. You hear thehoof-stroke on the hard plain, the "crop" of the browsing steed, and thetinkling of the bit-ring, for the horses eat bridled. 

At intervals, a drowsy hunter mutters through his sleep, battling indreams with some terrible foe. Thus goes the night. These are itsvoices. 

They cease as daybreak approaches. The wolf howls no longer; the swanand the blue crane are silent; the night-hawk has filled his ravenousmaw, and perches on the mountain pine; the fire-flies disappear, chasedby the colder hours; and the horses, having eaten what grew within theirreach, stand in lounging attitudes, asleep. 

A grey light begins to steal into the valley. It flickers along thewhite cliffs of the quartz mountain. It brings with it a raw, cold airthat awakens the hunters. 

One by one they arouse themselves. They shiver as they stand up, andcarry their blankets wrapped about their shoulders. They feel weary, and look pale and haggard. The grey dawn lends a ghastly hue to theirdusty beards and unwashed faces. 

After a short while they coil up their trail-ropes and fasten them tothe rings. They look to their flints and priming, and tighten thebuckles of their belts. They draw forth from their haversacks pieces ofdry tasajo, eating it raw. They stand by their horses, ready to mount. It is not yet time. 

The light is gathering into the valley. The blue mist that hung overthe river during the night is rising upward. We can see the town. Wecan trace the odd outlines of the houses. What strange structures theyare!

Some of them are higher than others: one, two, four stories in height. They are each in form like a pyramid without its apex. Each upper storyis smaller than that below it, the roofs of the lower ones serving asterraces for those above. They are of a whitish yellow, the colour ofthe clay out of which they are built. They are without windows, butdoors lead into each story from the outside; and ladders stretch fromterrace to terrace, leaning against the walls. On the tops of somethere are poles carrying bannerets. These are the residences of theprincipal war-chiefs and great warriors of the nation. 

We can see the temple distinctly. It is like the houses in shape, buthigher and of larger dimensions. There is a tall shaft rising out ofits roof, and a banner with a strange device floating at its peak. 

Near the houses we see corrals filled with mules and mustangs, thelive-stock of the village. 

The light grows stronger. Forms appear upon the roofs and move alongthe terraces. They are human forms enveloped in hanging garments, robe-like and striped. We recognise the Navajo blanket, with itsalternate bands of black and white. 

With the glass we can see these forms more distinctly; we can tell theirsex. 

Their hair hangs loosely upon their shoulders, and far down their backs. Most of them are females, girls and women. There are many children, too. There are men, white-haired and old. A few other men appear, butthey are not warriors. The warriors are absent. 

They come down the ladders, descending from terrace to terrace. They goout upon the plain, and rekindle the fires. Some carry earthen vessels, ollas, upon their heads, and pass down to the river. They go in forwater. These are nearly naked. We can see their brown bodies anduncovered breasts. They are slaves. 

See! the old men are climbing to the top of the temple. They arefollowed by women and children, some in white, others in bright-colouredcostumes. These are girls and young lads, the children of the chiefs. 

Over a hundred have climbed up. They have reached the highest root. There is an altar near the staff. A smoke rolls up--a blaze: they havekindled a fire upon the altar. 

Listen! the chant of voices, and the beat of an Indian drum!

The sounds cease, and they all stand motionless and apparently silent, facing to the east. 

"What does it mean?"

"They are waiting for the sun to appear. These people worship him. "

The hunters, interested and curious, strain their eyes, watching theceremony. 

The topmost pinnacle of the quartz mountain is on fire. It is the firstflash of the sun!

The peak is yellowing downward. Other points catch the brilliant beams. They have struck the faces of the devotees. See! there are whitefaces! One--two--many white faces, both of women and girls. 

"Oh, God! grant that it may be!" cries Seguin, hurriedly putting up theglass, and raising the bugle to his lips. 

A few wild notes peal over the valley. The horsemen hear the signal. They debouche from the woods and the defiles of the mountains. Theygallop over the plain, deploying as they go. 

In a few minutes we have formed the arc of a circle, concave to thetown. Our horses' heads are turned inwards, and we ride forward, closing upon the walls. 

We have left the atajo in the defile; the captive chief, too, guarded bya few of the men. The notes of the bugle have summoned the attention ofthe inhabitants. They stand for a while in amazement, and withoutmotion. They behold the deploying of the line. They see the horsemenride inward. 

Could it be a mock surprise of some friendly tribe? No. That strangevoice, the bugle, is new to Indian ears; yet some of them have heard itbefore. They know it to be the war-trumpet of the pale-faces!

For awhile their consternation hinders them from action. They standlooking on until we are near. Then they behold pale-faces, strangearmour, and horses singularly caparisoned. It is the white enemy!

They run from point to point, from street to street. Those who carrywater dash down their ollas, and rush screaming to the houses. Theyclimb to the roofs, drawing the ladders after them. Shouts areexchanged, and exclamations uttered in the voices of men, women, andchildren. Terror is on every face; terror displays itself in everymovement. 

Meanwhile our line has approached, until we are within two hundred yardsof the walls. We halt for a moment. Twenty men are left as an outerguard. The rest of us, thrown into a body, ride forward, following ourleader. 

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT. 

ADELE. 

We direct ourselves to the great building, and, surrounding it, againhalt. The old men are still upon the roof, standing along the parapet. They are frightened, and tremble like children. 

"Do not fear; we are friends!" cried Seguin, speaking in a strangelanguage, and making signs to them. 

His voice is not heard amidst the shrieks and shouting that stillcontinue. 

The words are repeated, and the sign given in a more emphatic manner. 

The old men crowd along the edge of the parapet. There is one amongthem who differs from the rest. His snow-white hair reaches below hiswaist. There are bright ornaments hanging from, his ears and over hisbreast. He is attired in white robes. He appears to be a chief; forthe rest obey him. He makes a signal with his hands, and the screamingsubsides. He stands forward on the parapet, as if to speak to us. 

"Amigos, amigos!" (friends!) cries he, speaking in Spanish. 

"Yes, yes; we are friends, " replies Seguin, in the same language. "Donot fear us! We came not to harm you. "

"Why harm us? We are at peace with the white pueblos to the east. Weare the children of Montezuma; we are Navajoes. What want you with us?"

"We come for our relatives, your white captives. They are our wives anddaughters. "

"White captives! You mistake us. We have no captives. Those you seekare among the nations of the Apache, away far to the south. "

"No; they are with you, " replies Seguin. "I have certain informationthat they are here. Delay us not, then! We have come a far journey forthem, and will not go without them. "

The old man turns to his companions. They converse in a low voice, andexchange signs. Again he faces round to Seguin. 

"Believe me, senor chief, " says he, speaking with emphasis, "you havebeen wrongly informed. We have no white captives. "

"Pish! 'Ee dod-rotted ole liar!" cries Rube, pushing out of the crowd, and raising his cat-skin cap as he speaks. "'Ee know this child, do'ee?"

The skinless head is discovered to the gaze of the Indians. A murmur, indicative of alarm, is heard among them. The white-haired chief seemsdisconcerted. He knows the history of that scalp!

A murmur, too, runs through the ranks of the hunters. They had seenwhite faces as they rode up. The lie exasperates them, and the ominousclick of rifles being cocked is heard on all sides. 

"You have spoken falsely, old man, " cries Seguin. "We know you havewhite captives. Bring them forth, then, if you would save your ownlives!"

"Quick!" shouts Garey, raising his rifle in a threatening manner;"quick! or I'll dye the flax on yer old skull. "

"Patience, amigo! you shall see our white people; but they are notcaptives. They are our daughters, the children of Montezuma. "

The Indian descends to the third story of the temple. He enters a door, and presently returns, bringing with him five females dressed in theNavajo costume. They are women and girls, and, as anyone could tell ata glance, of the Hispano-Mexican race. 

But there are those present who know them still better. Three of themare recognised by as many hunters, and recognise them in turn. Thegirls rush out to the parapet, stretch forth their arms, and utterexclamations of joy. The hunters call to them--

"Pepe!" "Rafaela!" "Jesusita!" coupling their names with expressionsof endearment. They shout to them to come down, pointing to theladders. 

"Bajan, ninas, bajan! aprisa, aprisa!" (Come down, dear girls! quickly, quickly!)

The ladders rest upon the upper terraces. The girls cannot move them. Their late masters stand beside them, frowning and silent. 

"Lay holt thar!" cries Garey, again threatening with his piece; "layholt, and help the gals down, or I'll fetch some o' yerselves a-tumblin'over!"

"Lay holt! lay holt!" shouted several others in a breath. 

The Indians place the ladders. The girls descend, and the next momentleap into the arms of their friends. 

Two of them remain above; only three have come down. Seguin hasdismounted, and passes these three with a glance. None of them is theobject of his solicitude!

He rushes up the ladder, followed by several of the men. He springsfrom terrace to terrace, up to the third. He presses forward to thespot where stand the two captive girls. His looks are wild, and hismanner that of one frantic. They shrink back at his approach, mistakinghis intentions. They scream with terror!

He pierces them with his look. The instincts of the father are busy:they are baffled. One of the females is old, too old; the other isslave-like and coarse. 

"Mon Dieu! it cannot be!" he exclaims, with a sigh. "There was a mark;but no, no, no! it cannot be!"

He leans forward, seizing the girl, though not ungently, by the wrist. Her sleeve is torn open, and the arm laid bare to the shoulder. 

"No, no!" he again exclaims; "it is not there. It is not she. "

He turns from them. He rushes forward to the old Indian, who falls backfrightened at the glare of his fiery eye. 

"These are not all!" cries he, in a voice of thunder; "there are others. Bring them forth, old man, or I will hurl you to the earth!"

"There are no other white squaws, " replied the Indian, with a sullen anddetermined air. 

"A lie! a lie! your life shall answer. Here! confront him, Rube!"

"'Ee dratted old skunk! That white har o' yourn ain't a-gwine to staythur much longer ev you don't bring her out. Whur is she? the youngqueen?"

"Al sur, " and the Indian points to the south. 

"Oh! mon Dieu! mon Dieu!" cries Seguin, in his native tongue, and withan accentuation that expresses his complete wretchedness. 

"Don't believe him, cap! I've seed a heap o' Injun in my time; an' alyiner old varmint than this'n I never seed yet. Ye heerd him jest now'bout the other gals?"

"Yes, true; he lied directly; but she--she might have gone--"

"Not a bit o' it. Lyin's his trade. He's thur great medicine, an'humbugs the hul kit o' them. The gal is what they call Mystery Queen. She knows a heap, an' helps ole whitey hyur in his tricks an'sacrifiches. He don't want to lose her. She's hyur somewhur, I'll beboun'; but she ur cached: that's sartin. "

"Men!" cries Seguin, rushing forward to the parapet, "take ladders!Search every house! Bring all forth, old and young. Bring them to theopen plain. Leave not a corner unsearched. Bring me my child!"

The hunters rush for the ladders. They seize those of the greatbuilding, and soon possess themselves of others. They run from house tohouse, and drag out the screaming inmates. 

There are Indian men in some of the houses--lagging braves, boys, and"dandies. " Some of these resist. They are slaughtered, scalped, andflung over the parapets. 

Crowds arrive, guarded, in front of the temple: girls and women of allages. 

Seguin's eye is busy; his heart is yearning. At the arrival of each newgroup, he scans their faces. In vain! Many of them are young andpretty, but brown as the fallen leaf. She is not yet brought up. 

I see the three captive Mexicans standing with their friends. Theyshould know where she may be found. 

"Question them, " I whisper to the chief. 

"Ha! you are right. I did not think of that. Come, come!"

We run together down the ladders, and approach the delivered captives. Seguin hurriedly describes the object of his search. 

"It must be the Mystery Queen, " says one. 

"Yes, yes!" cries Seguin, in trembling anxiety; "it is; she is theMystery Queen. "

"She is in the town, then, " adds another. 

"Where? where?" ejaculates the halt-frantic father. 

"Where? where?" echo the girls, questioning one another. 

"I saw her this morning, a short time ago, just before you came up. "

"I saw him hurry her off, " adds a second, pointing upward to the oldIndian. "He has hidden her. "

"Caval!" cries another, "perhaps in the estufa!"

"The estufa! what is it?"

"Where the sacred fire burns; where he makes his medicine. "

"Where is it? lead me to it!"

"Ay de mi! we know not the way. It is a sacred place where they burnpeople! Ay de mi!"

"But, senor, it is in this temple; somewhere under the ground. Heknows. None but he is permitted to enter it. Carrai! The estufa is afearful place. So say the people. "

An indefinite idea that his daughter may be in danger crosses the mindof Seguin. Perhaps she is dead already, or dying by some horrid means. He is struck, so are we, with the expression of sullen malice thatdisplays itself upon the countenance of the medicine chief. It isaltogether an Indian expression--that of dogged determination to dierather than yield what he has made up his mind to keep. It is a look ofdemoniac cunning, characteristic of men of his peculiar calling amongthe tribes. 

Haunted by this thought, Seguin runs to the ladder, and again springsupward to the root, followed by several of the band. He rushes upon thelying priest, clutching him by the long hair. 

"Lead me to her!" he cries, in a voice of thunder; "lead me to thisqueen, this Mystery Queen! She is my daughter. "

"Your daughter! the Mystery Queen!" replies the Indian, trembling withfear for his life, yet still resisting the appeal. "No, white man; sheis not. The queen is ours. She is the daughter of the Sun. She is thechild of a Navajo chief. "

"Tempt me no longer, old man! No longer, I say. Look forth! If a hairof her head has been harmed, all these shall suffer. I will not leave aliving thing in your town. Lead on! Bring me to the estufa!"

"To the estufa! to the estufa!" shout several voices. 

Strong hands grasp the garments of the Indian, and are twined into hisloose hair. Knives, already red and reeking, are brandished before hiseyes. He is forced from the roof, and hurried down the ladders. 

He ceases to resist, for he sees that resistance is death; andhalf-dragged, half-leading, he conducts them to the ground-floor of thebuilding. 

He enters by a passage covered with the shaggy hides of the buffalo. Seguin follows, keeping his eye and hand upon him. We crowd after, close upon the heels of both. 

We pass through dark ways, descending, as we go, through an intricatelabyrinth. We arrive in a large room, dimly lighted. Ghastly imagesare before us and around us, the mystic symbols of a horrid religion!The walls are hung with hideous shapes and skins of wild beasts. We cansee the fierce visages of the grizzly bear, of the white buffalo, of thecarcajou, of the panther, and the ravenous wolf. We can recognise thehorns and frontlets of the elk, the cimmaron, and the grim bison. Hereand there are idol figures, of grotesque and monster forms, carved fromwood and the red claystone of the desert. 

A lamp is flickering with a feeble glare; and on a brazero, near thecentre of the room, burns a small bluish flame. It is the sacred fire--the fire that for centuries has blazed to the god Quetzalcoatl!

We do not stay to examine these objects. The fumes of the charcoalalmost suffocate us. We run in every direction, overturning the idolsand dragging down the sacred skins. 

There are huge serpents gliding over the floor, and hissing around ourfeet. They have been disturbed and frightened by the unwontedintrusion. We, too, are frightened, for we hear the dreaded rattle ofthe crotalus!

The men leap from the ground, and strike at them with the butts of theirrifles. They crush many of them on the stone pavement. 

There are shouts and confusion. We suffer from the exhalations of thecharcoal. We shall be stifled. Where is Seguin? Where has he gone?

Hark! There are screams! It is a female voice! There are voices ofmen, too!

We rush towards the spot where they are heard. We dash aside the wallsof pendant skins. We see the chief. He has a female in his arms--agirl, a beautiful girl, robed in gold and bright plumes. 

She is screaming as we enter, and struggling to escape him. He holdsher firmly, and has torn open the fawn-skin sleeve of her tunic. He isgazing on her left arm, which is bared to the bosom!

"It is she! it is she!" he cries, in a voice trembling with emotion. "Oh, God! it is she! Adele! Adele! do you not know me? Me--yourfather?"

Her screams continue. She pushes him off, stretching out her arms tothe Indian, and calling upon him to protect her!

The father entreats her in wild and pathetic words. She heeds him not. She turns her face from him, and crouches down, hugging the knees of thepriest!

"She knows me not! Oh, God! my child! my child!"

Again Seguin speaks in the Indian tongue, and with imploring accents--

"Adele! Adele! I am your father!"

"You! Who are you? The white men; our foes! Touch me not! Away, white men! away!"

"Dear, dearest Adele! do not repel me--me, your father! You remember--"

"My father! My father was a great chief. He is dead. This is myfather now. The Sun is my father. I am a daughter of Montezuma! I ama queen of the Navajoes!"

As she utters these words, a change seems to come over her spirit. Shecrouches no longer. She rises to her feet. Her screaming has ended, and she stands in an attitude of pride and indignation. 

"Oh, Adele!" continues Seguin, more earnest than ever, "look at me!look! Do you not remember? Look in my face! Oh, Heaven! Here, see!Here is your mother, Adele! See! this is her picture: your angelmother. Look at it! Look, oh, Adele!"

Seguin, while he is speaking, draws a miniature from his bosom, andholds it before the eyes of the girl. It arrests her attention. Shelooks upon it, but without any signs of recognition. It is to her onlya curious object. 

She seems struck with his manner, frantic but intreating. She seems toregard him with wonder. Still she repels him. It is evident she knowshim not. She has lost every recollection of him and his. She hasforgotten the language of her childhood; she has forgotten her father, her mother: she has forgotten all!

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I could not restrain my tears as I looked upon the face of my friend, for I had grown to consider him such. Like one who has received amortal wound, yet still lives, he stood in the centre of the group, silent and crushed. His head had fallen upon his breast, his cheek wasblanched and bloodless; and his eye wandered with an expression ofimbecility painful to behold. I could imagine the terrible conflictthat was raging within. 

He made no further efforts to intreat the girl. He no longer offered toapproach her; but stood for some moments in the same attitude withoutspeaking a word. 

"Bring her away!" he muttered, at length, in a voice husky and broken;"bring her away! Perhaps, in God's mercy, she may yet remember. "

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE. 

THE WHITE SCALP. 

We repassed the horrid chamber, and emerged upon the lowermost terraceof the temple. As I walked forward to the parapet, there was a scenebelow that filled me with apprehension. A cloud seemed to fall over myheart. 

In front of the temple were the women of the village--girls, women, andchildren; in all, about two hundred. They were variously attired: somewere wrapped in their striped blankets; some wore tilmas, and tunics ofembroidered fawn-skin, plumed and painted with dyes of vivid colour;some were dressed in the garb of civilised life--in rich satins, thathad been worn by the dames of the Del Norte; in flounces that hadfluttered in the dance around the ankles of some gay maja. 

Not a few in the crowd were entirely nude. They were all Indians, butof lighter and darker shades; differing in colour as in expression offace. Some were old, wrinkled, and coarse; but there were many of themyoung, noble-like, and altogether beautiful. 

They were grouped together in various attitudes. They had ceased theirscreaming, but murmured among themselves in low and plaintiveexclamations. 

As I looked, I saw blood running from their ears! It had dappled theirthroats and spurted over their garments. 

A glance satisfied me as to the cause of this. They had been rudelyrobbed of their golden hangings. 

Near and around them stood the scalp-hunters, in groups and afoot. Theywere talking in whispers and low mutterings. There were objects abouttheir persons that attracted my eye. Curious articles of ornament oruse peeped out from their pouches and haversacks--bead-strings andpieces of shining metal--gold it was--hung around their necks and overtheir breasts. These were the plundered bijouterie of the savagemaidens. 

There were other objects upon which my eye rested with feelings ofdeeper pain. Stuck behind the belts of many were scalps, fresh andreeking. Their knife-hilts and fingers were red; there was blood upontheir hands; there was gloom in their glances. 

The picture was appalling; and, adding to its awful impression, blackclouds were at the moment rolling over the valley, and swathing themountains in their opaque masses. The lightning jetted from peak topeak, followed by short claps of close and deafening thunder. 

"Bring up the atajo!" shouted Seguin, as he descended the ladder withhis daughter. 

A signal was given; and shortly after the mules, in charge of thearrieros, came stringing across the plain. 

"Collect all the dry meat that can be found. Let it be packed asspeedily as possible. "

In front of most of the houses there were strings of tasajo hangingagainst the walls. There were also dried fruits and vegetables, chile, roots of the kamas, and skin-bags filled with pinons and choke-berries. 

The meat was soon brought together, and several of the men assisted thearrieros in packing it. 

"There will be barely enough, " said Seguin. "Here, Rube, " continued he, calling to the old trapper; "pick out your prisoners. Twenty will be asmany as we can take. You know them: chose those most likely to tempt anexchange. "

So saying, the chief turned off towards the atajo, leading his daughterwith the intention of mounting her on one of the mules. 

Rube proceeded to obey the orders given him. In a short time he hadcollected a number of unresisting captives, and had put them aside fromthe rest. They were principally girls and young lads, whose dress andfeatures bespoke them of the noblesse of the nation, the children ofchiefs and warriors. 

This movement was not regarded in silence. The men had drawn together, and commenced talking in loud and mutinous language. 

"Wagh!" exclaimed Kirker, a fellow of brutal aspect; "thar are wivesapiece, boys: why not every man help himself? Why not?"

"Kirker's right, " Rejoined another; "and I've made up my mind to haveone, or bust. "

"But how are ye goin' to feed 'em on the road? We ha'n't meat if wetake one apiece. "

"Meat be hanged!" ejaculated the second speaker; "we kin reach the DelNorte in four days or less. What do we want with so much meat?"

"There's meat a-plenty, " rejoined Kirker. "That's all the captain'spalaver. If it runs out we kin drop the weemen, and take what o' them'shandiest to carry. "

This was said with a significant gesture, and a ferocity of expressionrevolting to behold. 

"Now, boys! what say ye?"

"I freeze to Kirker. "

"And I. "

"And I. "

"I'm not goin' to advise anybody, " added the brute. "Ye may all do asye please about it; but this niggur's not a-goin' to starve in the midsto' plenty. "

"Right, comrade! right, I say. "

"Wal. First spoke first pick, I reckin. That's mountain law; so, oldgal, I cottons to you. Come along, will yer?"

Saying this, he seized one of the Indians, a large, fine-looking woman, roughly by the wrist, and commenced dragging her towards the atajo. 

The woman screamed and resisted, frightened, not at what had been said, for she did not understand it, but terrified by the ruffian expressionthat was plainly legible in the countenance of the man. 

"Shut up yer meat-trap, will ye?" cried he, still pulling her towardsthe mules; "I'm not goin' to eat ye. Wagh! Don't be so skeert. Come!mount hyar. Gee yup!"

And with this exclamation he lifted the woman upon one of the mules. 

"If ye don't sit still, I'll tie ye; mind that!" and he held up thelasso, making signs of his determination. 

A horrid scene now ensued. 

A number of the scalp-hunters followed the example of their ruffiancomrade. Each one chose the girl or woman he had fancied, and commencedhurrying her off to the atajo. The women shrieked. The men shouted andswore. Several scrambled for the same prize--a girl more beautiful thanher companions. A quarrel was the consequence. Oaths and ejaculationsrang out; knives were drawn and pistols cocked. 

"Toss up for her!" cried one. 

"Ay, that's fair; toss up! toss up!" shouted several. 

The hint was adopted; the lots were cast; and the savage belle becamethe property of the winner. 

In the space of a few minutes nearly every mule in the atajo carried anIndian damsel. 

Some of the hunters had taken no part in this Sabine proceeding. Somedisapproved of it (for all were not bad) from motives of humanity. Others did not care for being "hampered with a squaw, " but stood apart, savagely laughing at the scene. 

During all this time Seguin was on the other side of the building withhis daughter. He had mounted her upon one of the mules, and covered hershoulders with his serape. He was making such preparations for herjourney as the tender solicitudes of the father suggested. 

The noise at length attracted him; and, leaving her in charge of hisservants, he hurried round to the front. 

"Comrades!" cried he, glancing at the mounted captives, andcomprehending all that had occurred, "there are too many here. Arethese whom you have chosen?" This question was directed to the trapperRube. 

"No, " replied the latter, "them's 'em, " and he pointed to the party hehad picked out. 

"Dismount these, then, and place those you have selected upon the mules. We have a desert to cross, and it will be as much as we can do to passit with that number. "

And without appearing to notice the scowling looks of his followers, heproceeded, in company with Rube and several others, to execute thecommand he had given. 

The indignation of the hunters now showed itself in open mutiny. Fiercelooks were exchanged, and threats uttered aloud. 

"By Heaven!" cried one, "I'll have my gal along, or her scalp. "

"Vaya!" exclaimed another, in Spanish; "why take any of them? They'renot worth the trouble, after all. There's not one of them worth theprice of her own hair. "

"Take the har then, and leave the niggurs!" suggested a third. 

"I say so too. "

"And I. "

"I vote with you, hoss. "

"Comrades!" said Seguin, turning to the mutineers, and speaking in atone of extreme mildness, "remember your promise. Count the prisoners, as we agreed. I will answer for the payment of all. "

"Can ye pay for them now?" asked a voice. 

"You know that that would be impossible. "

"Pay for them now! Pay for them now!" shouted several. 

"Cash or scalps, says I. "

"Carrajo! where is the captain to get the money when we reach El Pasomore than here? He's neither a Jew nor a banker; and it's news to me ifhe's grown so rich. Where, then, is all the money to some from?"

"Not from the Cabildo, unless the scalps are forthcoming; I'll warrantthat. "

"True, Jose! They'll give no money to him, more than to us; and we canget it ourselves if we show the skins for it. That we can. "

"Wagh! what cares he for us, now that he has got what he wanted?"

"Not a niggur's scalp. He wouldn't let us go by the Prieto, when we kud'a gathered the shining stuff in chunks. "

"Now he wants us to throw away this chance too. We'd be green fools todo it, I say. "

It struck me at this moment that I might interfere, with success. Moneyseemed to be what the mutineers wanted; at least it was their allegedgrievance; and rather than witness the fearful drama which appeared tobe on the eve of enactment, I would have sacrificed my fortune. 

"Men!" cried I, speaking so that I could be heard above the din, "if youdeem my word worth listening to, it is this: I have sent a cargo toChihuahua with the last caravan. By the time we get back to El Paso thetraders will have returned, and I shall be placed in possession of fundsdouble what you demand. If you will accept my promise, I shall see thatyou be paid. "

"Wagh! that talk's all very well, but what do we know of you or yercargo?"

"Vaya! A bird in the hand's worth two in the bush. "

"He's a trader. Who's goin' to take his word?"

"Rot his cargo! Scalps or cash, cash or scalps! that's this niggur'sadvice; an' if ye don't take it, boys, ye may leave it! but it's all thepay ye'll ever crook yer claws on. "

The men had tasted blood, and like the tiger, they thirsted for more. There were glaring eyes on all sides, and the countenances of someexhibited an animal ferociousness hideous to look upon. The half-robberdiscipline that hitherto ruled in the band seemed to have completelydeparted, and the authority of the chief to be set at defiance. 

On the other side stood the females, clinging and huddling together. They could not understand the mutinous language, but they sawthreatening attitudes and angry faces. They saw knives drawn, and heardthe cocking of guns and pistols. They knew there was danger, and theycrouched together, whimpering with fear. 

Up to this moment Seguin had stood giving directions for the mounting ofhis captives. His manner was strangely abstracted, as it had been eversince the scene of meeting with his daughter. That greater care, gnawing at his heart, seemed to render him insensible to what waspassing. He was not so. 

As Kirker ended (for he was the last speaker) a change came overSequin's manner, quick as a flash of lightning. Suddenly rousinghimself from his attitude of indifference, he stepped forward in frontof the mutineers. 

"Dare!" shouted he, in a voice of thunder, "dare to dishonour youroaths! By heavens! the first man who raises knife or rifle shall die onthe instant!"

There was a pause, and a moment of deep silence. 

"I had made a vow, " continued he, "that should it please God to restoreme my child, this hand should be stained with no more blood. Let anyman force me to break that vow, and, by Heaven, his blood shall be thefirst to stain it!"

A vengeful murmur ran through the crowd, but no one replied. 

"You are but a cowardly brute, with all your bluster, " he continued, turning round to Kirker, and looking him in the eye. "Up with thatknife! quick! or I will send this bullet through your ruffian heart!"

Seguin had drawn his pistol, and stood in an attitude that told he wouldexecute the threat. His form seemed to have grown larger; his eyedilated, flashing as it rolled, and the man shrank before its glance. He saw death in it if he disobeyed, and with a surly murmur he fumbledmechanically at his belt, and thrust the blade back into its sheath. 

But the mutiny was not yet quelled. These were men not so easilyconquered. Fierce exclamations still continued, and the mutineers againbegan to encourage one another with shouts. 

I had thrown myself alongside the chief, with my revolvers cocked andready, resolved to stand by him to the death. Several others had donethe same, among whom were Rube, Garey, Sanchez the bull-fighter, and theMaricopa. 

The opposing parties were nearly equal, and a fearful conflict wouldhave followed had we fought; but at this moment an object appeared thatstifled the resentment of all. It was the common enemy!

Away on the western border of the valley we could see dark objects, hundreds of them, coming over the plain. They were still at a greatdistance, but the practised eyes of the hunters knew them at a glance. They were horsemen; they were Indians; they were our pursuers, theNavajoes!

They were riding at full gallop, and strung over the prairie like houndsupon a run. In a twinkling they would be on us. 

"Yonder!" cried Seguin, "yonder are scalps enough to satisfy you; butlet us see to our own. Come! to your horses! On with the atajo! Iwill keep my word with you at the pass. Mount! my brave fellows, mount!"

The last speech was uttered in a tone of reconciliation; but it needednot that to quicken the movements of the hunters. They knew too welltheir own danger. They could have sustained the attack among thehouses, but it would only have been until the return of the main tribe, when they knew that every life would be taken. To make a stand at thetown would be madness, and was not thought of. In a moment we were inour saddles; and the atajo, strung out with the captives and provisions, was hurrying off toward the woods. We purposed passing the defile thatopened eastward, as our retreat by the other route was now cut off bythe advancing horsemen. 

Seguin had thrown himself at the head, leading the mule upon which hisdaughter was mounted. The rest followed, straggling over the plainwithout rank or order. 

I was among the last to leave the town. I had lingered behindpurposely, fearing some outrage, and determined, if possible, to preventit. 

"At length, " thought I, "they have all gone!" and putting spurs to myhorse, I galloped after. 

When I had ridden about a hundred yards from the walls, a loud yell rangbehind me; and, reining in my horse, I turned in the saddle and lookedback. Another yell, wild and savage, directed me to the point whencethe former had come. 

On the highest roof of the temple two men were struggling. I knew themat a glance; and I knew, too, it was a death-struggle. One was themedicine chief, as I could tell by the flowing, white hair. The scantyskirt and leggings, the naked ankles, the close-fitting skull-cap, enabled me easily to distinguish his antagonist. It was the earlesstrapper!

The conflict was a short one. I had not seen the beginning of it, but Isoon witnessed the denouement. As I turned, the trapper had forced hisadversary against the parapet, and with his long, muscular arm wasbending him over its edge. In the other hand, uplifted, he brandishedhis knife!

I saw a quick flash as the blade was plunged; a red gush spurted overthe garments of the Indian; his arms dropped, his body doubled over thewall, balanced a moment, and then fell with a dull, sodden sound uponthe terrace below!

The same wild whoop again rang in my ears, and the hunter disappearedfrom the root. 

I turned to ride on. I knew it was the settling of some old account, the winding up of some terrible revenge. 

The clattering of hoofs sounded behind me, and a horseman rode upalongside. I knew, without turning my head, that it was the trapper. 

"Fair swop, they say, ain't no stealin'. Putty har, too, it ur. Wagh!It won't neyther match nor patch mine; but it makes one's feelin'seasier. "

Puzzled at this speech, I turned to ascertain its meaning. I wasanswered by the sight that met my eye. An object was hanging from theold man's belt, like a streak of snow-white flax. But it was not that. It was hair. It was a scalp!

There were drops of blood struggling down the silvery strands as theyshook, and across them, near the middle, was a broad red band. It wasthe track of the trapper's knife where he had wiped it!

CHAPTER FORTY. 

THE FIGHT IN THE PASS. 

We entered the woods, and followed the Indian trail up stream. Wehurried forward as fast as the atajo could be driven. A scramble offive miles brought us to the eastern end of the valley. Here thesierras impinged upon the river, forming a canon. It was a grim gap, similar to that we had passed on entering from the west, but still morefearful in its features. Unlike the former, there was no road over themountains on either side. The valley was headed in by precipitouscliffs, and the trail lay through the canon, up the bed of the stream. The latter was shallow. During freshets it became a torrent; and thenthe valley was inaccessible from the east, but that was a rareoccurrence in these rainless regions. 

We entered the canon without halting, and galloped over the detritus, and round huge boulders that lay in its bed. Far above us rose thefrowning cliffs, thousands of feet overhead. Great rocks scarped out, abutting over the stream; shaggy pines hung top downward, clinging intheir seams; shapeless bunches of cacti and mezcals crawled along thecliffs, their picturesque but gloomy foliage adding to the wildness ofthe scene. 

It was dark within the pass, from the shadow of the jutting masses; butnow darker than usual, for black storm-clouds were swathing the cliffsoverhead. Through these, at short intervals, the lightning forked andflashed, glancing in the water at our feet. The thunder, in quick, sharp percussions, broke over the ravine; but as yet it rained not. 

We plunged hurriedly through the shallow stream, following the guide. There were places not without danger, where the water swept aroundangles of the cliff with an impetuosity that almost lifted our horsesfrom their feet; but we had no choice, and we scrambled on, urging ouranimals with voice and spur. 

After riding for a distance of several hundred yards, we reached thehead of the canon and climbed out on the bank. 

"Now, cap'n, " cried the guide, reining up, and pointing to the entrance, "hyur's yur place to make stand. We kin keep them back till thur sicki' the guts; that's what we kin do. "

"You are sure there is no pass that leads out but this one?"

"Ne'er a crack that a cat kud get out at; that ur, 'ceptin' they go backby the other eend; an' that'll take them a round-about o' two days, Ireckin. "

"We will defend this, then. Dismount, men! Throw yourselves behind therocks!"

"If 'ee take my advice, cap, I'd let the mules and weemen keep for'ard, with a lot o' the men to look arter 'em; them that's ridin' the meanestcritters. It'll be nose an' tail when we do go; and if they starts now, yur see wa kin easy catch up with 'em t'other side o' the parairar. "

"You are right, Rube! We cannot stay long here. Our provisions willgive out. They must move ahead. Is that mountain near the line of ourcourse, think you?"

As Seguin spoke, he pointed to a snow-crowned peak that towered over theplain, far off to the eastward. 

"The trail we oughter take for the ole mine passes clost by it, cap'n. To the south'art o' yon snowy, thur's a pass; it's the way I got clurmyself. "

"Very well; the party can take the mountain for their guide. I willdespatch them at once. "

About twenty men, who rode the poorest horses, were selected from theband. These, guarding the atajo and captives, immediately set out androde off in the direction of the snowy mountain. El Sol went with thisparty, in charge of Dacoma and the daughter of our chief. The rest ofus prepared to defend the pass. 

Our horses were tied in a defile; and we took our stands where we couldcommand the embouchure of the canon with our rifles. 

We waited in silence for the approaching foe. As yet no war-whoop hadreached us; but we knew that our pursuers could not be far off; and weknelt behind the rocks, straining our eyes down the dark ravine. 

It is difficult to give an idea of our position by the pen. The groundwe had selected as the point of defence was unique in its formation, andnot easily described; yet it is necessary you should know something ofits peculiar character in order to comprehend what followed. 

The stream, after meandering over a shallow, shingly channel, enteredthe canon through a vast gate-like gap, between two giant portals. Oneof these was the abrupt ending of the granite ridge, the other adetached mass of stratified rock. Below this gate the channel widenedfor a hundred yards or so, where its bed was covered with loose bouldersand logs of drift timber. Still farther down, the cliffs approachedeach other, so near that only two horsemen could ride between themabreast; and beyond this the channel again widened, and the bed of thestream was filled with rocks, huge fragments that had fallen from themountain. 

The place we occupied was among the rocks and drift, within the canon, and below the great gap which formed its mouth. We had chosen theposition from necessity, at at this point the bank shelved out andoffered a way to the open country, by which our pursuers could outflankus, should we allow them to get so far up. It was necessary, therefore, to prevent this; and we placed ourselves to defend the lower or secondnarrowing of the channel. We knew that below that point beetling cliffswalled in the stream on both sides, so that it would be impossible forthem to ascend out of its bed. If we could restrain them from making arush at the shelving bank, we would have them penned up from any fartheradvance. They could only flank our position by returning to the valley, and going about by the western end, a distance of fifty miles at theleast. At all events, we should hold them in check until the atajo hadgot a long start; and then, trusting to our horses, we intended tofollow it in the night. We knew that in the end we should have toabandon the defence, as the want of provisions would not allow us tohold out for any length of time. 

At the command of our leader we had thrown ourselves among the rocks. The thunder was now pealing over our heads, and reverberating throughthe canon. Black clouds rolled along the cliffs, split and torn bybrilliant jets. Big drops, still falling thinly, slapped down upon thestones. 

As Seguin had told me, rain, thunder, and lightning are rare phenomenain these regions; but when they do occur, it is with that violence whichcharacterises the storms of the tropics. The elements, escaping fromtheir wonted continence, rage in fiercer war. The long-gatheringelectricity, suddenly displaced from its equilibrium, seems to revel inhavoc, rending asunder the harmonies of nature. 

The eye of the geognosist, in scanning the features of this plateauland, could not be mistaken in the character of its atmosphere. Thedread canons, the deep barrancas, the broken banks of streams, and theclay-cut channels of the arroyos, all testified that we were in a landof sudden floods. 

Away to the east, towards the head waters of the river, we could seethat the storm was raging in its full fury. The mountains in thatdirection were no longer visible. Thick rain-clouds were descendingupon them, and we could hear the sough of the falling water. We knewthat it would soon be upon us. 

"What's keepin' them anyhow?" inquired a voice. 

Our pursuers had time to have been up. The delay was unexpected. 

"The Lord only knows!" answered another. "I s'pose thar puttin' on afresh coat o' paint at the town. "

"They'll get their paint washed off, I reckin. Look to yer primin', hosses! that's my advice. "

"By gosh! it's a-goin' to come down in spouts. "

"That's the game, boyees! hooray for that!" cried old Rube. 

"Why? Do you want to git soaked, old case?"

"That's adzactly what this child wants. "

"Well, it's more 'n I do. I'd like to know what ye want to git wet for. Do ye wish to put your old carcass into an agey?"

"If it rains two hours, do 'ee see, " continued Rube, without payingattention to the last interrogatory, "we needn't stay hyur, do 'ee see?"

"Why not, Rube?" inquired Seguin, with interest. 

"Why, cap, " replied the guide, "I've seed a skift o' a shower make thishyur crick that 'ee wudn't care to wade it. Hooray! it ur a-comin', sure enuf! Hooray!"

As the trapper uttered these exclamations, a vast black cloud camerolling down from the east, until its giant winds canopied the defile. It was filled with rumbling thunder, breaking at intervals into louderpercussions, as the red bolts passed hissing through it. From thiscloud the rain fell, not in drops, but, as the hunter had predicted, in"spouts. "

The men, hastily throwing the skirts of their hunting shirts over theirgun-locks, remained silent under the pelting of the storm. 

Another sound, heard between the peals, now called our attention. Itresembled the continuous noise of a train of waggons passing along agravelly road. It was the sound of hoof-strokes on the shingly bed ofthe canon. It was the horse-tread of the approaching Navajoes!

Suddenly it ceased. They had halted. For what purpose? Perhaps toreconnoitre. 

This conjecture proved to be correct; for in a few moments a small redobject appeared over a distant rock. It was the forehead of an Indianwith its vermilion paint. It was too distant for the range of a rifle, and the hunters watched it without moving. 

Soon another appeared, and another, and then a number of dark forms wereseen lurking from rock to rock, as they advanced up the canon. Ourpursuers had dismounted, and were approaching us on foot. 

Our faces were concealed by the "wrack" that covered the stones; and theIndians had not yet discovered us. They were evidently in doubt as towhether we had gone on, and this was their vanguard making the necessaryreconnaissance. 

In a short time the foremost, by starts and runs, had got close up tothe narrow part of the canon. There was a boulder below this point, andthe upper part of the Indian's head showed itself for an instant overthe rock. At the same instant half a dozen rifles cracked; the headdisappeared; and, the moment after, an object was seen down upon thepebbles, at the base of the boulder. It was the brown arm of thesavage, lying palm upward. We knew that the leaden messengers had donetheir work. 

The pursuers, though at the expense of one of their number, had nowascertained the fact of our presence, as well as our position; and theadvanced party were seen retreating as they had approached. 

The men who had fired reloaded their pieces, and, kneeling down asbefore, watched with sharp eyes and cocked rifles. 

It was a long time before we heard anything more of the enemy; but weknew that they were deliberating on some plan of attack. 

There was but one way by which they could defeat us: by charging up thecanon, and fighting us hand-to-hand. By an attack of this kind theirmain loss would be in the first volley. They might ride upon us beforewe could reload; and, far outnumbering us, would soon decide the daywith their long lances. We knew all this; but we knew, too, that afirst volley, when well delivered, invariably staggers an Indian charge, and we relied on such a hope for our safety. 

We had arranged to fire by platoons, and thus have the advantage of asecond discharge, should the Indians not retreat at the first. 

For nearly an hour the hunters crouched under the drenching rain, looking only to keep dry the locks of their pieces. The water, in muddyrivulets, began to trickle through the shingle, and eddying around therocks, covered the wide channel in which we now stood, ankle-deep. Bothabove and below us, the stream, gathered up by the narrowing of thechannel, was running with considerable velocity. 

The sun had set, at least it seemed so, in the dismal ravine where wewere. We were growing impatient for the appearance of our enemy. 

"Perhaps they have gone round, " suggested one. 

"No; thar a-waitin' till night. They'll try it then. "

"Let 'em wait, then, " muttered Rube, "ef thur green enuf. A half anhour more'll do; or this child don't understan' weather signs. "

"Hist! hist!" cried several voices together. "See; they are coming!"

All eyes were bent down the pass. A crowd of dark objects appeared inthe distance, filling up the bed of the stream. They were the Indians, and on horseback. We knew from this that they were about to make adash. Their movements, too, confirmed it. They had formed two deep, and held their bows ready to deliver a flight of arrows as they gallopedup. 

"Look out, boyees!" cried Rube; "thur a-comin' now in airnest. Look toyur sights, and give 'em gos; do 'ee hear?"

As the trapper spoke, two hundred voices broke into a simultaneous yell. It was the war-cry of the Navajoes!

As its vengeful notes rang upon the canon, they were answered by loudcheers from the hunters, mingled with the wild whoops of their Delawareand Shawano allies. 

The Indians halted for a moment beyond the narrowing of the canon, untilthose who were rearmost should close up. Then, uttering another cry, they dashed forward into the gap. 

So sudden was their charge that several of them had got fairly throughbefore a shot was fired. Then came the reports of the guns; the crack--crack--crack of rifles; the louder detonations of the Spanish pieces, mingled with the whizzing sound of Indian arrows. Shouts ofencouragement and defiance were given on both sides; and groans wereheard, as the grooved bullet or the poisoned barb tore up the yieldingflesh. 

Several of the Indians had fallen at the first volley. A number hadridden forward to the spot of our ambush, and fired their arrows in ourfaces. But our rifles had not all been emptied; and these daringsavages were seen to drop from their saddles at the straggling andsuccessive reports. 

The main body wheeled behind the rocks, and were now forming for asecond charge. This was the moment of danger. Our guns were idle, andwe could not prevent them from passing the gap, and getting through tothe open country. 

I saw Seguin draw his pistol, and rush forward, calling upon those whowere similarly armed to follow his example. We ran after our leaderdown to the very jaws of the canon, and stood waiting the charge. 

It was soon to come; for the enemy, exasperated by many circumstances, were determined on our destruction, cost what it might. Again we heardtheir fierce war-cry, and amidst its wild echoes the savages camegalloping into the gap. 

"Now's yur time, " cried a voice; "fire! Hooray!"

The cracks of fifty pistols were almost simultaneous. The foremosthorses reared up and fell back, kicking and sprawling in the gap. Theyfell, as it were, in a body, completely choking up the channel. Thosewho came on behind urged their animals forward. Some stumbled on theheap of fallen bodies. Their horses rose and fell again, trampling bothdead and living among their feet. Some struggled over and fought uswith their lances. We struck back with our clubbed guns, and closedupon them with our knives and tomahawks. 

The stream rose and foamed against the rocks, pent back by the prostrateanimals. We fought thigh-deep in the gathering flood. The thunderroared overhead, and the lightning flashed in our faces, as though theelements took part in the conflict!

The yelling continued wild and vengeful as ever. The hunters answeredit with fierce shouts. Oaths flew from foaming lips, and men grappledin the embrace that ended only in death!

And now the water, gathered into a deep dam, lifted the bodies of theanimals that had hitherto obstructed it, and swept them out of the gap. The whole force of the enemy would be upon us. Good heavens! they arecrowding up, and our guns are empty!

At this moment a new sound echoed in our ears. It was not the shouts ofmen, nor the detonation of guns, nor the pealing of the thunder. It wasthe hoarse roaring: of the torrent!

A warning cry was heard behind us. A voice called out: "Run for yourlives! To the bank! to the bank!"

I turned, and beheld my companions rushing for the slope, uttering wordsof terror and caution. At the same instant my eye became fixed upon anapproaching object. Not twenty yards above where I stood, and justentering the canon, came a brown and foaming mass. It was water, bearing on its crested front huge logs of drift and the torn branches oftrees. It seemed as though the sluice of some great dam had beensuddenly carried away, and this was the first gush of the escapingflood!

As I looked it struck the portals of the canon with a concussion likethunder, and then, rearing back, piled up to a height of twenty feet. The next moment it came surging through the gap. 

I heard their terrified cry as the Indians wheeled their horses andfled. I ran for the bank, followed by my companions. I was impeded bythe water, which already reached to my thighs; but with desperate energyI plunged and weltered through it, till I had gained a point of safety. 

I had hardly climbed out when the torrent rolled past with a hissing, seething sound. I stood to observe it. From where I was I could seedown the ravine for a long reach. The Indians were already in fullgallop, and I saw the tails of their hindmost horses just disappearinground the rocks. 

The bodies of the dead and wounded were still lying in the channel. There were hunters as well as Indians. The wounded screamed as they sawthe coming flood. Those who had been our comrades called to us forhelp; we could do nothing to save them. Their cries had hardly reachedus when they were lifted upon the crest of the whirling current, like somany feathers, and carried off with the velocity of projectiles!

"Thar's three good fellows gone under! Wagh!"

"Who are they?" asked Seguin, and the men turned round with inquiringlooks. 

"Thar's one Delaware, and big Jim Harris, and--"

"Who is the third man that's missing? Can anyone tell?"

"I think, captain, it's Kirker. "

"It is Kirker, by the 'tarnal! I seed him down. Wagh! They'll lifthis har to a sartinty. "

"Ay, they'll fish him out below. That's a sure case. "

"They'll fish out a good haul o' thur own, I reckin. It'll be a tightrace, anyhow. I've heern o' a horse runnin' agin a thunder shower; butthem niggurs 'll make good time, if thur tails ain't wet afore they gitt'other eend--they will. "

As the trapper spoke, the floating and still struggling bodies of hiscomrades were carried to a bend in the canon, and whirled out of sight. The channel was now filled with the foaming yellow flood that frothedagainst the rocks as it forged onward. 

Our danger was over for the time. The canon had become impassable; and, after gazing for a while upon the torrent, most of us with feelings ofawe, we turned away, and walked toward the spot where we had left ourhorses. 

CHAPTER FORTY ONE. 

THE BARRANCA. 

We staked our horses upon the open plain, and, returning to the thicket, cut down wood and kindled fires. We felt secure. Our pursuers, evenhad they escaped back to the valley, could not now reach us, except byturning the mountains or waiting for the falling of the flood. 

We knew that that would be as sudden as its rise, should the rain cease;but the storm still raged with unabated fury. 

We could soon overtake the atajo; but we determined to remain for sometime at the canon, until men and horses had refreshed themselves byeating. Both were in need of food, as the hurried events of thepreceding days had given no opportunity for a regular bivouac. 

The fires were soon blazing under shelter of the overhanging rocks; andthe dried meat was broiled for our suppers, and eaten with sufficientrelish. Supper ended, we sat, with smoking garments, around the redembers. Several of the men had received wounds. These were rudelydressed by their comrades, the doctor having gone forward with theatajo. 

We remained for several hours by the canon. The tempest still playedaround us, and the water rose higher and higher. This was exactly whatwe wished for; and we had the satisfaction of seeing the flood increaseto such a height that, as Rube assured us, it could not subside forhours. It was then resolved that we should continue our journey. 

It was near midnight when we drew our pickets and rode off. The rainhad partially blinded the trail made by El Sol and his party, but themen who now followed it were not much used to guide-posts, and Rube, acting as leader, lifted it at a trot. At intervals the flashes oflightning showed the mule tracks in the mud, and the white peak thatbeckoned us in the distance. 

We travelled all night. An hour after sunrise we overtook the atajo, near the base of the snow mountain. We halted in the mountain pass;and, after a short while spent in cooking and eating breakfast, continued our journey across the sierra. The road led through a dryravine, into an open plain that stretched east and south beyond thereach of our vision. It was a desert. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I will not detail the events that occurred to us in the passage of thatterrible jornada. They were similar to those we experienced in thedeserts to the west. We suffered from thirst, making one stretch ofsixty miles without water. We passed over sage-covered plains, withouta living object to break the death-like monotony that extended aroundus. We cooked our meals over the blaze of the artemisia. But ourprovisions gave out; and the pack mules, one by one, fell under theknives of the hungry hunters. By night we camped without fires; wedared not kindle them; for though, as yet, no pursuers had appeared, weknew they must be on our trail. We had travelled with such speed thatthey had not been able to come up with us. 

For three days we headed towards the south-east. On the evening of thethird we descried the Mimbres Mountains towering up on the easternborder of the desert. The peaks of these were well known to thehunters, and became our guides as we journeyed on. 

We approached the Mimbres in a diagonal direction, as it was our purposeto pass through the sierra by the route of the old mine, once theprosperous property of our chief. To him every feature of the landscapewas a familiar object. I observed that his spirits rose as we proceededonward. 

At sundown we reached the head of the Barranca del Oro, a vast cleftthat traversed the plain leading down to the deserted mine. This chasm, like a fissure caused by some terrible earthquake, extended for adistance of twenty miles. On either side was a trail; for on both thetable-plain ran in horizontally to the very lips of the abyss. Aboutmidway to the mine, on the left brow, the guide knew of a spring, and weproceeded towards this with the intention of camping by the water. 

We dragged wearily along. It was near midnight when we arrived at thespring. Our horses were unsaddled and staked on the open plain. 

Here Seguin had resolved that we should rest longer than usual. Afeeling of security had come over him as he approached thesewell-remembered scenes. 

There was a thicket of young cotton-trees and willows fringing thespring, and in the heart of this a fire was kindled. Another mule wassacrificed to the manes of hunger; and the hunters, after devouring thetough steaks, flung themselves upon the ground and slept. Thehorse-guard only, out by the caballada, stood leaning upon his rifle, silent and watchful. 

Resting my head in the hollow of my saddle, I lay down by the fire. Seguin was near me with his daughter. The Mexican girls and the Indiancaptives lay clustered over the ground, wrapped in their tilmas andstriped blankets. They were all asleep, or seemed so. 

I was as wearied as the rest, but my thoughts kept me awake. My mindwas busy with the bright future. "Soon, " thought I, "shall I escapefrom these horrid scenes; soon shall I breathe a purer atmosphere in thesweet companionship of my beloved Zoe. Beautiful Zoe! before two dayshave passed I shall again be with you, press your impassioned lips, callyou my loved: my own! Again shall we wander through the silent gardenby the river groves; again shall we sit upon the moss-grown seats in thestill evening hours; again shall we utter those wild words that causedour hearts to vibrate with mutual happiness! Zoe, pure and innocent asthe angels. " The child-like simplicity of that question, "Enrique, whatis to marry?" Ah! sweet Zoe! you shall soon learn. Ere long I shallteach you. Ere long wilt thou be mine; for ever mine!

"Zoe! Zoe! are you awake? Do you lie sleepless on your soft couch? oram I present in your dreams? Do you long for my return, as I to hastenit? Oh, that the night were past! I cannot wait for rest. I couldride on sleepless--tireless--on--on!"

My eye rested upon the features of Adele, upturned and shining in theblaze of the fire. I traced the outlines of her sister's face: thehigh, noble front, the arched eyebrow, and the curving nostril. But thebrightness of complexion was not there; the smile of angelic innocencewas not there. The hair was dark, the skin browned; and there was awildness in the expression of the eye, stamped, no doubt, by theexperience of many a savage scene. Still was she beautiful, but it wasbeauty of a far less spiritual order than that of my betrothed. 

Her bosom rose and fell in short, irregular pulsations. Once or twice, while I was gazing, she half awoke, and muttered some words in theIndian tongue. Her sleep was troubled and broken. 

During the journey, Seguin had waited upon her with all the tendersolicitude of a father; but she had received his attentions withindifference, or at most regarded them with a cold thankfulness. It wasdifficult to analyse the feelings that actuated her. Most of the timeshe remained silent and sullen. 

The father endeavoured, once or twice, to resuscitate the memories ofher childhood, but without success; and with sorrow at his heart he hadeach time relinquished the attempt. 

I thought he was asleep. I was mistaken. On looking more attentivelyin his face, I saw that he was regarding her with deep interest, andlistening to the broken phrases that fell from her lips. There was apicture of sorrow and anxiety in his look that touched me to the heart. 

As I watched him, the girl murmured some words, to me unintelligible, but among them I recognised the name "Dacoma. "

I saw that Seguin started as he heard it. 

"Poor child!" said he, seeing that I was awake; "she is dreaming, and atroubled dream it is. I have half a mind to wake her out of it. "

"She needs rest, " I replied. 

"Ay, if that be rest. Listen! again `Dacoma. '"

"It is the name of the captive chief. "

"Ay; they were to have been married according to their laws. "

"But how did you learn this?"

"From Rube: he heard it while he was a prisoner at the town. "

"And did she love him, do you think?"

"No. It appears not. She had been adopted as the daughter of themedicine chief, and Dacoma claimed her for a wife. On certainconditions she was to have been given to him; but she feared, not lovedhim, as her words now testify. Poor child! a wayward fate has beenhers. "

"In two journeys more her sufferings will be over. She will be restoredto her home, to her mother. "

"Ah! if she should remain thus it will break the heart of my poorAdele. "

"Fear not, my friend. Time will restore her memory. I think I haveheard of a parallel circumstance among the frontier settlements of theMississippi. "

"Oh! true, there have been many. We will hope for the best. "

"Once in her home the objects that surrounded her in her younger daysmay strike a chord in her recollection. She may yet remember all. Mayshe not?"

"Hope! Hope!"

"At all events, the companionship of her mother and sister will soon winher from the thoughts of savage life. Fear not! She will be yourdaughter again. "

I urged these ideas for the purpose of giving consolation. Seguin madeno reply; but I saw that the painful and anxious expression stillremained clouding his features. 

My own heart was not without its heaviness. A dark foreboding began tocreep into it from some undefined cause. Were his thoughts in communionwith mine?

"How long, " I asked, "before we can reach your house on the Del Norte?"

I scarce knew why I was prompted to put this question. Some fear thatwe were still in peril from the pursuing foe?

"The day after to-morrow, " he replied, "by the evening. Heaven grant wemay find them safe!"

I started as the words issued from his lips. They had brought pain inan instant. This was the true cause of my undefined forebodings. 

"You have fears?" I inquired, hastily. 

"I have. "

"Of what? of whom?"

"The Navajoes. "

"The Navajoes!"

"Yes. My mind has not been easy since I saw them go eastward from thePinon. I cannot understand why they did so, unless they meditated anattack on some settlements that lie on the old Llanos' trail. If notthat, my fears are that they have made a descent on the valley of ElPaso, perhaps on the town itself. One thing may have prevented themfrom attacking the town: the separation of Dacoma's party, which wouldleave them too weak for that; but still the more danger to the smallsettlements both north and south of it. "

The uneasiness I had hitherto felt arose from an expression which Seguinhad dropped at the Pinon spring. My mind had dwelt upon it, from timeto time, during our desert journeyings; but as he did not speak of itafterwards, I thought that he had not attached so much importance to it. I had reasoned wrongly. 

"It is just probable, " continued the chief, "that the Passenos maydefend themselves. They have done so heretofore with more spirit thanany of the other settlements, and hence their long exemption from beingplundered. Partly that, and partly because our band has protected theirneighbourhood for a length of time, which the savages well know. It isto be hoped that the fear of meeting with us will prevent them fromcoming into the Jornada north of the town. If so, ours have escaped. "

"God grant, " I faltered, "that it may be thus!"

"Let us sleep, " added Seguin. "Perhaps our apprehensions are idle, andthey can benefit nothing. To-morrow we shall march forward withouthalt, if our animals can bear it. Go to rest, my friend; you have notmuch time. "

So saying, he laid his head in his saddle, and composed himself tosleep. In a short while, as if by an act of volition, he appeared to bein a profound slumber. 

With me it was different. Sleep was banished from my eyes, and I tossedabout, with a throbbing pulse and a brain filled with fearful fancies. The very reaction from the bright dreams in which I had just beenindulging rendered my apprehensions painfully active. I began toimagine scenes that might be enacting at that very moment: my betrothedstruggling in the arms of some savage; for these southern Indians, Iknew, possessed none of the chivalrous delicacy that characterise thered men of the "forest. "

I fancied her carried into a rude captivity; becoming the squaw of somebrutal brave; and with the agony of the thought I rose to my feet andrushed out upon the prairie. 

Half-frantic, I wandered, not heeding whither I went. I must havewalked for hours, but I took no note of the time. 

I strayed back upon the edge of the barranca. The moon was shiningbrightly, but the grim chasm, yawning away into the earth at my feet, lay buried in silence and darkness. My eye could not pierce itsfathomless gloom. 

I saw the camp and the caballada far above me on the bank; but mystrength was exhausted, and, giving way to my weariness, I sank downupon the very brink of the abyss. The keen torture that had hithertosustained me was followed by a feeling of utter lassitude. Sleepconquered agony, and I slept. 

CHAPTER FORTY TWO. 

THE FOE. 

I must have slept an hour or more. Had my dreams been realities, theywould have filled the measure of an age. 

At length the raw air of the morning chilled and awoke me. The moon hadgone down, for I remembered that she was close to the horizon when Ilast saw her. Still it was far from being dark, for I could see to aconsiderable distance through the fog. 

"Perhaps the day is breaking, " thought I, and I turned my face to theeast. It was as I had guessed: the eastern sky was streaked with light;it was morning. 

I knew it was the intention of Seguin to start early, and I was aboutsummoning resolution to raise myself when voices broke on my ear. Therewere short, exclamatory phrases, and hoof-strokes upon the prairie turf. 

"They are up, and preparing to start. " With this thought, I leaped tomy feet, and commenced hurrying towards the camp. 

I had not walked ten paces when I became conscious that the voices werebehind me!

I stopped and listened. Yes; beyond a doubt I was going from them. 

"I have mistaken the way to the camp!" and I stepped forward to the edgeof the barranca for the purpose of assuring myself. What was myastonishment to find that I had been going in the right direction, andthat the sounds were coming from the opposite quarter. 

My first thought was that the band had passed me, and were moving on theroute. 

"But no; Seguin would not. Oh! he has sent of a party to search for me:it is they. "

I called out "Hollo!" to let them know where I was. There was noanswer; and I shouted again, louder than before. All at once the soundsceased. I knew the horsemen were listening, and I called once more atthe top of my voice. There was a moment's silence! Then I could hear amuttering of many voices and the trampling of horses as they gallopedtowards me. 

I wondered that none of them had yet answered my signal; but my wonderwas changed into consternation when I perceived that the approachingparty were on the other side of the barranca!

Before I could recover from my surprise, they were opposite me andreining up on the bank of the chasm. They were still three hundredyards distant, the width of the gulf; but I could see them plainlythrough the thin and filmy fog. There appeared in all about a hundredhorsemen; and their long spears, their plumed heads, and half-nakedbodies, told me at a glance they were Indians!

I stayed to inquire no further, but ran with all my speed for the camp. I could see the horsemen on the opposite cliff keeping pace with me at aslow gallop. 

On reaching the spring I found the hunters in surprise, and vaultinginto their saddles. Seguin and a few others had gone out on the extremeedge, and were looking over. They had not thought of an immediateretreat, as the enemy, having the advantage of the light, had alreadydiscovered the strength of our party. 

Though only a distance of three hundred yards separated the hostilebands, twenty miles would have to be passed before they could meet inbattle. On this account Seguin and the hunters felt secure for thetime; and it was hastily resolved to remain where we were, until we hadexamined who and what were our opponents. 

They had halted on the opposite bank, and sat in their saddles, gazingacross. They seemed puzzled at our appearance. It was still too darkfor them to distinguish our complexions. Soon, however, it grewclearer; our peculiar dress and equipments were recognised; and a wildyell, the Navajo war-cry, came pealing over the abyss!

"It's Dacoma's party!" cried a voice, "they have taken the wrong side o'the gully. "

"No, " exclaimed another, "thar's too few o' them for Dacoma's men. Tharain't over a hundred. "

"Maybe the flood tuk the rest, " suggested the first speaker. 

"Wagh! how could they 'a missed our trail, that's as plain as a waggontrack? 'Tain't them nohow. "

"Who then? It's Navagh. I kud tell thar yelp if I wur sleepin'. "

"Them's head chief's niggurs, " said Rube, at this moment riding forward. "Looke! yonder's the old skunk hisself, on the spotted hoss!"

"You think it is they, Rube?" inquired Seguin. 

"Sure as shootin', cap. "

"But where are the rest of his band? These are not all. "

"They ain't far off, I'll be boun'. Hish-sh! I hear them a-comin'. "

"Yonder's a crowd! Look, boys! look!"

Through the fog, now floating away, a dark body of mounted men were seencoming up the opposite side. They advanced with shouts andejaculations, as though they were driving cattle. It was so. As thefog rose up, we could see a drove of horses, horned cattle, and sheep, covering the plain to a great distance. Behind these rode mountedIndians, who galloped to and fro, goading the animals with their spears, and pushing them forward. 

"Lord, what a plunder!" exclaimed one of the hunters. 

"Ay, them's the fellows have made something by thar expedition. We arecomin' back empty as we went. Wagh!"

I had been engaged in saddling my horse, and at this moment cameforward. It was not upon the Indians that my eye rested, nor upon theplundered cattle. Another object attracted my gaze, and sent the bloodcurdling to my heart. 

Away in the rear of the advancing drove I saw a small party, distinctfrom the rest. Their light dresses fluttering in the wind told me thatthey were not Indians. They were women; they were captives!

There appeared to be about twenty in all; but my feelings were such thatI took little heed of their number. I saw that they were mounted, andthat each was guarded by an Indian, who rode by her side. 

With a palpitating heart I passed my eye over the group from one to theother; but the distance was too great to distinguish the features of anyof them. I turned towards the chief. He was standing with the glass tohis eye. I saw him start; his cheek suddenly blanched; his lipsquivered convulsively, and the instrument fell from his fingers to theground! With a wild look he staggered back, crying out--

"Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! Oh, God! Thou hast stricken me now!"

I snatched up the telescope to assure myself. But it needed not that. As I was raising it, an object running along the opposite side caught myeye. It was the dog Alp! I levelled the glass, and the next moment wasgazing through it on the face of my betrothed!

So close did she seem that I could hardly restrain myself from callingto her. I could distinguish her pale, beautiful features. Her cheekwas wan with weeping, and her rich golden hair hung dishevelled from hershoulders, reaching to the withers of her horse. She was covered with aserape, and a young Indian rode beside her, mounted upon a showy horse, and dressed in the habiliments of a Mexican hussar!

I looked at none of the others, though a glance showed me her mother inthe string of captives that came after. 

The drove of horses and cattle soon passed up, and the females withtheir guards arrived opposite us. The captives were left back on theprairie, while the warriors rode forward to where their comrades hadhalted by the brow of the barranca. 

It was now bright day; the fog had cleared away, and across theimpassable gulf the hostile bands stood gazing at each other!

CHAPTER FORTY THREE. 

NEW MISERY. 

It was a most singular rencontre. Here were two parties of men, heart-foes to one another, each returning from the country of the other, loaded with plunder and carrying a train of captives! They had metmidway, and stood within musket range, gazing at each other withfeelings of the most bitter hostility, and yet a conflict was asimpossible as though twenty miles of the earth's surface lay betweenthem. 

On one side were the Navajoes, with consternation in their looks, forthe warriors had recognised their children. On the other stood thescalp-hunters, not a few of whom, in the captive train of their enemies, could distinguish the features of a wife, a sister, or a daughter. 

Each gazed upon the other with hostile hearts and glances of revenge. Had they met thus on the open prairie they would have fought to thedeath. It seemed as though the hand of God had interposed to preventthe ruthless shedding of blood, which, but for the gulf that lay betweenthese foemen, would certainly have ensued. 

I cannot describe how I felt at the moment. I remember that, all atonce, I was inspired with a new vigour both of mind and body. HithertoI had been little more than a passive spectator of the events of ourexpedition. I had been acting without any stimulating heart-motive; nowI had one that roused me to, a desperate energy. 

A thought occurred to me, and I ran up to communicate it. Seguin wasbeginning to recover from the terrible blow. The men had learnt thecause of his strange behaviour, and stood around him, some of themendeavouring to console him. Few of them knew aught of the familyaffairs of their chief, but they had heard of his earlier misfortunes:the loss of his mine, the ruin of his property, the captivity of hischild. Now, when it became known that among the prisoners of the enemywere his wife and daughter, even the rude hearts of the hunters weretouched with pity at his more than common sufferings. Compassionateexclamations were heard from them, mingled with expressions of theirdetermination to restore the captives or die in the attempt. 

It was with the intention of exciting such a feeling that I had comeforward. It was my design, out of my small stock of world's wealth, toset a premium on devotedness and valour, but I saw that nobler motiveshad anticipated me, and I remained silent. 

Seguin seemed pleased at the loyalty of his comrades, and began toexhibit his wonted energy. Hope again had possession of him. The menclustered round him to offer their advice and listen to his directions. 

"We can fight them, capt'n, even-handed, " said the trapper Garey. "Tharain't over two hundred. "

"Jest a hundred and ninety-six, " interposed a hunter, "without theweemen. I've counted them; that's thar number. "

"Wal, " continued Garey, "thar's some difference atween us in point o'pluck, I reckin; and what's wantin' in number we'll make up wi' ourrifles. I never valleys two to one wi' Injuns, an' a trifle throw'd in, if ye like. "

"Look at the ground, Bill! It's all plain. Whar would we be after avolley? They'd have the advantage wi' their bows and lances. Wagh!they could spear us to pieces thar!"

"I didn't say we could take them on the paraira. We kin foller themtill they're in the mountains, an' git them among the rocks. That'swhat I advise. "

"Ay. They can't run away from us with that drove. That's sartin. "

"They have no notion of running away. They will most likely attack us. "

"That's jest what we want, " said Garey. "We kin go yonder, and fightthem till they've had a bellyful. "

The trapper, as he spoke, pointed to the foot of the Mimbres, that layabout ten miles off to the eastward. 

"Maybe they'll wait till more comes up. There's more of head chief'sparty than these; there were nearly four hundred when they passed thePinon. "

"Rube, where can the rest of them be?" demanded Seguin; "I can see downto the mine, and they are not upon the plain. "

"Ain't a-gwine to be, cap. Some luck in that, I reckin. The ole foolhas sent a party by t'other trail. On the wrong scent--them is. "

"Why do you think they have gone by the other trail?"

"Why, cap, it stans for raison. If they wur a-comin' ahint, some o'them niggurs on t'other side wud 'a gone back afore this to hurry 'emup, do 'ee see? Thur hain't gone ne'er a one, as I seed. "

"You are right, Rube, " replied Seguin, encouraged by the probability ofwhat the other had asserted. "What do you advise us?" continued he, appealing to the old trapper, whose counsel he was in the habit ofseeking in all cases of similar difficulty. 

"Wal, cap, it's a twistified piece o' business as it stans; an' I hain'tfigured it out to my satersfaction jest yet. If 'ee'll gi' me a kuppleo' minutes, I'll answer ye to the best o' my possibilities. "

"Very well; we will wait for you. Men! look to your arms, and see thatthey are all in readiness. "

During this consultation, which had occupied but a few seconds of time, we could see that the enemy was similarly employed on the other side. They had drawn around their chief, and from their gesticulations it wasplain they were deliberating how they should act. 

Our appearance, with the children of their principal men as captives, had filled them with consternation at what they saw, and apprehensionsof a fearful kind for what they saw not. Returning from a successfulforay, laden with spoil, and big with the prospect of feasting andtriumph, they suddenly perceived themselves out-generalled at their owngame. They knew we had been to their town. They conjectured that wehad plundered and burnt their houses, and massacred their women andchildren. They fancied no less; for this was the very work in whichthey had themselves been engaged, and their judgment was drawn fromtheir own conduct. 

They saw, moreover, that we were a large party, able to defend what wehad taken, at least against them; for they knew well that with theirfirearms the scalp-hunters were an over-match for them, when there wasanything like an equality of numbers. 

With these ideas, then, it required deliberation on their part, as wellas with us; and we knew that it would be some time before they wouldact. They, too, were in a dilemma. 

The hunters obeyed the injunctions of Seguin, and remained silent, waiting upon Rube to deliver his advice. 

The old trapper stood apart, half-resting upon his rifle, which heclutched with both hands near the muzzle. He had taken out the"stopper, " and was looking into the barrel, as if he were consultingsome oracular spirit that he kept bottled up within it. It was one ofRube's peculiar "ways, " and those who knew this were seen to smile asthey watched him. 

After a few minutes spent in this silent entreaty, the oracle seemed tohave sent forth its response; and Rube, returning the stopper to itsplace, came walking forward to the chief. 

"Billee's right, cap. If them Injuns must be fit, it's got to be didwhur thur's rocks or timmer. They'd whip us to shucks on the paraira. That's settled. Wal, thur's two things: they'll eyther come at us; ifso be, yander's our ground, " (here the speaker pointed to a spur of theMimbres); "or we'll be obleeged to foller them. If so be, we can do itas easy as fallin' off a log. They ain't over leg-free. "

"But how should we do for provisions, in that case? We could nevercross the desert without them. "

"Why, cap, thur's no diffeeculty 'bout that. Wi' the parairas as dry asthey are, I kud stampede that hul cavayard as easy as a gang o'bufflers; and we'd come in for a share o' them, I reckin. Thur's a wusthing than that, this child smells. "

"What?"

"I'm afeerd we mout fall in wi' Dacoma's niggurs on the back track;that's what I'm afeerd on. "

"True; it is most probable. "

"It ur, unless they got overtuk in the kenyon; an I don't think it. They understan' that crik too well. "

The probability of Dacoma's band soon joining those of the head chiefwas apparent to all, and cast a shadow of despondency over every face. They were, no doubt, still in pursuit of us, and would soon arrive onthe ground. 

"Now, cap, " continued the trapper, "I've gi'n ye my notion o' things, ifso be we're boun' to fight; but I have my behopes we kin get back theweemen 'ithout wastin' our gun-fodder. "

"How? how?" eagerly inquired the chief and others. 

"Why, jest this a-way, " replied the trapper, almost irritating me withthe prolixity of his style. "'Ee see them Injuns on t'other side o' thegulley?"

"Yes, yes, " hastily replied Seguin. 

"Wal; 'ee see these hyur?" and the speaker pointed to our captives. 

"Yes, yes!"

"Wal; 'ee see them over yander, though thur hides be a coppery colour, has feelin's for thur childer like white Christyuns. They eat 'em bytimes, that's true; but thur's a releegius raison for that, not manyhyur understands, I reckin. "

"And what would you have us do?"

"Why, jest heist a bit o' a white rag an' offer to swop pris'ners. They'll understan' it, and come to tarms, I'll be boun'. That puttyleetle gal with the long har's head chief's darter, an' the rest belongsto main men o' the tribe: I picked 'em for that. Besides, thur's Dacomaan' the young queen. They'll bite thur nails off about them. 'Ee kingive up the chief, and trade them out o' the queen best way ye kin. "

"I will follow your advice, " cried Seguin, his eye brightening with theanticipation of a happy result. 

"Thur's no time to be wasted, then, cap; if Dacoma's men makes thurappearance, all I've been a-sayin' won't be worth the skin o' asand-rat. "

"Not a moment shall be lost;" and Seguin gave orders to make ready theflag of peace. 

"It 'ud be better, cap, fust to gi' them a good sight o' what we've got. They hain't seed Dacoma yet, nor the queen. Thur in the bushes. "

"Right!" answered Seguin. "Comrades! bring forward the captives to theedge of the barranca. Bring the Navajo chief. Bring the--my daughter!"

The men hurried to obey the command; and in a few minutes the captivechildren, with Dacoma and the Mystery Queen, were led forward to thevery brink of the chasm. The serapes that had shrouded them wereremoved, and they stood exposed in their usual costumes before the eyesof the Indians. Dacoma still wore his helmet, and the queen wasconspicuous in the rich, plume-embroidered tunic. They were at oncerecognised!

A cry of singular import burst from the Navajoes as they beheld thesenew proofs of their discomfiture. The warriors unslung their lances, and thrust them into the earth with impotent indignation. Some of themdrew scalps from their belts, stuck them on the points of their spears, and shook them at us over the brow of the abyss. They believed thatDacoma's band had been destroyed, as well as their women and children;and they threatened us with shouts and gestures. 

In the midst of all this, we noticed a movement among the more staidwarriors. A consultation was going on. 

It ended. A party were seen to gallop toward the captive women, who hadbeen left far back upon the plain. 

"Great heavens!" cried I, struck with a horrid idea, "they are going tobutcher them! Quick with the flag!"

But before the banner could be attached to its staff, the Mexican womenwere dismounted, their rebozos pulled off, and they were led forward tothe precipice. 

It was only meant for a counter-vaunt, the retaliation of a pang for itwas evident the savages knew that among their captives were the wife anddaughter of our chief. These were placed conspicuously in front, uponthe very brow of the barranca. 

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR. 

THE FLAG OF TRUCE. 

They might have spared themselves the pains. That agony was alreadyfelt; but, indeed, a scene followed--that caused us to suffer afresh. 

Up to this moment we had not been recognised by those near and dear tous. The distance had been too great for the naked eye, and our brownedfaces and travel-stained habiliments were of themselves a disguise. 

But the instincts of love are quick and keen, and the eyes of mybetrothed were upon me. I saw her start forward; I heard the agonisedscream; a pair of snow-white arms were extended, and she sank, fainting, upon the cliff. 

At the same instant Madame Seguin had recognised the chief, and hadcalled him by name. Seguin shouted to her in reply, and cautioned herin tones of intreaty to remain patient and silent. 

Several of the other females, all young and handsome, had recognisedtheir lovers and brothers, and a scene followed that was painful towitness. 

But my eyes were fixed upon her I saw that she recovered from her swoon. I saw the savage in hussar trappings dismount, and, lifting her in hisarms, carry her back upon the prairie. 

I followed them with impotent gaze. I saw that he was paying her kindattentions; and I almost thanked him, though I knew it was but theselfish gallantry of the lover. 

In a short while she rose to her feet again, and rushed back toward thebarranca. I heard my name uttered across the ravine. Hers was echoedback; but at the moment both mother and daughter were surrounded bytheir guards, and carried back. 

Meanwhile, the white flag had been got ready, and Seguin, holding italoft, stood out in front. We remained silent, watching with eagerglances for the answer. 

There was a movement among the clustered Indians. We heard their voicesin earnest talk, and saw that something was going on in their midst. 

Presently, a tall, fine-looking man came out from the crowd, holding anobject in his left hand of a white colour. It was a bleached fawn-skin. In his right hand he carried a lance. 

We saw him place the fawn-skin on the blade of the lance, and standforward holding it aloft. Our signal of peace was answered. 

"Silence, men!" cried Seguin, speaking to the hunters; and then, raisinghis voice, he called aloud in the Indian language--

"Navajoes! you know whom we are. We have passed through your country, and visited your head town. Our object was to search for our dearrelatives, who we knew were captives in your land. Some we haverecovered, but there are many others we could not find. That thesemight be restored to us in time, we have taken hostages, as you see. Wemight have brought away many more, but these we considered enough. Wehave not burned your town; we have not harmed your wives, yourdaughters, nor your children. With the exception of these, ourprisoners, you will find all as you left them. "

A murmur ran through the ranks of the Indians. It was a murmur ofsatisfaction. They had been under the full belief that their town wasdestroyed and their women massacred; and the words of Seguin, thereforeproduced a singular effect. We could hear joyful exclamations andphrases interchanged among the warriors. Silence was again restored, and Seguin continued--

"We see that you have been in our country. You have made captives aswell as we. You are red men. Red men can feel for their kindred aswell as white men. We know this; and for that reason have I raised thebanner of peace, that each may restore to the other his own. It willplease the Great Spirit, and will give satisfaction to both of us; forthat which you hold is of most value to us, and that which we have isdear only to you. Navajoes! I have spoken. I await your answer. "

When Seguin had ended, the warriors gathered around the head chief, andwe could see that an earnest debate was going on amongst them. It wasplain there were dissenting voices; but the debate was soon over, andthe head chief, stepping forward, gave some instructions to the man whoheld the flag. The latter in a loud voice replied to Seguin's speech asfollows--

"White chief! you have spoken well, and your words have been weighed byour warriors. You ask nothing more than what is just and fair. Itwould please the Great Spirit and satisfy us to exchange our captives;but how can we tell that your words are true? You say that you have notburned our town nor harmed our women and children. How can we know thatthis is true? Our town is far off; so are our women, if they be stillalive. We cannot ask them. We have only your word. It is not enough. "

Seguin had already anticipated this difficulty, and had ordered one ofour captives, an intelligent lad, to be brought forward. 

The boy at this moment appeared by his side. 

"Question him!" shouted he, pointing to the captive lad. 

"And why may we not question our brother, the chief Dacoma? The lad isyoung. He may not understand us. The chief could assure us better. "

"Dacoma was not with us at the town. He knows not what was done there. "

"Let Dacoma answer that. "

"Brother!" replied Seguin, "you are wrongly suspicious, but you shallhave his answer, " and he addressed some words to the Navajo chief, whosat near him upon the ground. 

The question was then put directly to Dacoma by the speaker on the otherside. The proud Indian, who seemed exasperated with the humiliatingsituation in which he was placed, with an angry wave of his hand and ashort ejaculation, answered in the negative. 

"Now, brother, " proceeded Seguin, "you see I have spoken truly. Ask thelad what you first proposed. "

The boy was then interrogated as to whether we had burnt the town orharmed the women and children. To these two questions he also returneda negative answer. 

"Well, brother, " said Seguin, "are you satisfied?"

For a long time there was no reply. The warriors were again gathered incouncil, and gesticulating with earnestness and energy. We could seethat there was a party opposed to pacific measures, who were evidentlycounselling, the others to try the fortunes of a battle. These were theyounger braves; and I observed that he in the hussar costume, who, asRube informed us, was the son of the head chief, appeared to be theleader of this party. 

Had not the head chief been so deeply interested in the result, thecounsels of these might have carried; for the warriors well knew thescorn that would await them among neighbouring tribes should they returnwithout captives. Besides, there were numbers who felt another sort ofinterest in detaining them. They had looked upon the daughters of theDel Norte, and "saw that they were fair. "

But the counsels of the older men at length prevailed, and the spokesmanreplied--

"The Navajo warriors have considered what they have heard. They believethat the white chief has spoken the truth, and they agree to exchangetheir prisoners. That this may be done in a proper and becoming manner, they propose that twenty warriors be chosen on each side; that thesewarriors shall lay down their arms on the prairie in presence of all;that they shall then conduct their captives to the crossing of thebarranca by the mine, and there settle the terms of their exchange; thatall the others on both sides shall remain where they now are, until theunarmed warriors have got back with the exchanged prisoners; that thewhite banners shall then be struck, and both sides be freed from thetreaty. These are the words of the Navajo warriors. "

It was some time before Seguin could reply to this proposal. It seemedfair enough; but yet there was a manner about it that led us to suspectsome design, and we paused a moment to consider it. The concludingterms intimated an intention on the part of the enemy of making anattempt to retake their captives; but we cared little for this, providedwe could once get them on our side of the barranca. 

It was very proper that the prisoners should be conducted to the placeof exchange by unarmed men, and twenty was a proper number; but Seguinwell knew how the Navajoes would interpret the word "unarmed"; andseveral of the hunters were cautioned in an undertone to "stray" intothe bushes, and conceal their knives and pistols under the flaps oftheir hunting-shirts. We thought that we observed a similar manoeuvregoing on upon the opposite bank with the tomahawks of our adversaries. 

We could make but little objection to the terms proposed; and as Seguinknew that time saved was an important object, he hastened to acceptthem. 

As soon as this was announced to the Navajoes, twenty men--alreadychosen, no doubt--stepped out into the open prairie, and striking theirlances into the ground, rested against them their bows, quivers, andshields. We saw no tomahawks, and we knew that every Navajo carriesthis weapon. They all had the means of concealing them about theirpersons; for most of them were dressed in the garb of civilised life, inthe plundered habiliments of the rancho and hacienda. We cared little, as we, too, were sufficiently armed. We saw that the party selectedwere men of powerful strength; in fact, they were the picked warriors ofthe tribe. 

Ours were similarly chosen. Among them were El Sol and Garey, Rube, andthe bull-fighter Sanchez. Seguin and I were of the number. Most of thetrappers, with a few Delaware Indians, completed the complement. 

The twenty were soon selected; and, stepping out on the open ground, asthe Navajoes had done, we piled our rifles in the presence of the enemy. 

Our captives were then mounted and made ready for starting. The queenand the Mexican girls were brought forward among the rest. 

This last was a piece of strategy on the part of Seguin. He knew thatwe had captives enough to exchange one for one, without these; but hesaw, as we all did, that to leave the queen behind would interrupt thenegotiation, and perhaps put an end to it altogether. He had resolved, therefore, on taking her along, trusting that he could better negotiatefor her on the ground. Failing this, there would be but one appeal--toarms; and he knew that our party was well prepared for that alternative. 

Both sides were at length ready, and, at a signal, commenced riding downthe barranca, in the direction of the mine. The rest of the two bandsremained eyeing each other across the gulf, with glances of mistrust andhatred. Neither party could move without the other seeing it; for theplains in which they were, though on opposite sides of the barranca, were but segments of the same horizontal plateau. A horseman proceedingfrom either party could have been seen by the others to a distance ofmany miles. 

The flags of truce were still waving, their spears stuck into theground; but each of the hostile bands held their horses saddled andbridled, ready to mount at the first movement of the other. 

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE. 

A VEXED TREATY. 

Within the barranca was the mine. The shafts, rude diggings, piercedthe cliffs on both sides, like so many caves. The bottom between thecliffs was bisected by a rivulet that murmured among loose rocks. 

On the banks of this rivulet stood the old smelting-houses and ruinedranches of the miners. Most of them were roofless and crumbling todecay. The ground about them was shaggy and choked up. There werebriars, mezcal plants, and cacti--all luxuriant, hirsute, and thorny. 

Approaching this point, the road on each side of the barranca suddenlydips, the trails converging downward, and meeting among the ruins. 

When in view of these, both parties halted and signalled each otheracross the ravine. After a short parley, it was proposed by theNavajoes that the captives and horses should remain on the top of thehill, each train to be guarded by two men. The rest, eighteen on eachside, should descend to the bottom of the barranca, meet among thehouses, and, having smoked the calumet, arrange the terms of theexchange. 

Neither Seguin nor I liked this proposal. We saw that, in the event ofa rupture in the negotiation (a thing we more than half anticipated), even should our party overpower the other, we could gain nothing. Before we could reach the Navajo captives, up the steep hill, the twoguards would hurry them off; or (we dreaded to think of it) butcher themon the ground! It was a fearful thought, but there was nothingimprobable in it. 

We knew, moreover, that smoking the peace-pipe would be another waste oftime; and we were on thorns about the approach of Dacoma's party. 

But the proposal had come from the enemy, and they were obstinate. Wecould urge no objections to it without betraying our designs; and wewere compelled, though loth, to accept it. 

We dismounted, leaving our horses in charge of the guard, and descendinginto the ravine, stood face to face with the warriors of Navajo. 

They were eighteen picked men; tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular. The expression of their faces was savage, subtle, and grim. There wasnot a smile to be seen, and the lip that at that moment had betrayed onewould have lied. There was hate in their hearts and vengeance in theirlooks. 

For a moment both parties stood scanning each other in silence. Thesewere no common foes; it was no common hostility that for years hadnerved them against each other; and it was no common cause that had now, for the first time, brought them face to face without arms in theirhands. A mutual want had forced them to their present attitude ofpeace, though it was more like a truce between the lion and tiger whichhave met in an avenue of the jungly forest, and stand eyeing oneanother. 

Though by agreement without arms, both were sufficiently armed, and theyknew that of each other. 

The handles of tomahawks, the hafts of knives, and the shining butts ofpistols, peeped carelessly out from the dresses both of hunters andIndians. There was little effort made to conceal these dangerous toys, and they were on all sides visible. 

At length our mutual reconnaissance came to a period, and we proceededto business. 

There happened to be no breadth of ground clear of weeds and thornyrubbish, where we could seat ourselves lor the "smoke. " Seguin pointedto one of the houses, an adobe structure in a tolerable state ofpreservation, and several entered to examine it. The building had beenused as a smelting-house, and broken trucks and other implements werelying over the floor. There was but one apartment, not a large oneeither, and near its centre stood a brazero covered with cold slag andashes. 

Two men were appointed to kindle a fire upon the brazero, and the rest, entering, took their seats upon the trucks and masses of quartz rock orethat lay around the room!

As I was about seating myself, an object leaped against me from behind, uttering a low whine that ended in a bark. I turned, and beheld the dogAlp. The animal, frenzied with delight, rushed upon me repeatedly; andit was some time before I could quiet him and take my place. 

At length we all were seated upon opposite sides of the fire, each partyforming the arc of a circle, concave to the other. 

There was a heavy door still hanging upon its hinge; and as there wereno windows in the house, this was suffered to remain open. It opened tothe inside. 

The fire was soon kindled, and the clay-stone calumet filled with"kini-kinik. " It was then lighted, and passed from mouth to mouth inprofound silence. 

We noticed that each of the Indians, contrary to their usual custom oftaking a whiff or two, smoked long and slowly. We knew it was a ruse toprotract the ceremony and gain time; while we--I answer for Seguin andmyself--were chafing at the delay. 

When the pipe came round to the hunters, it passed in quicker time. 

The unsocial smoke was at length ended, and the negotiation began. 

At the very commencement of the "talk, " I saw that we were going to havea difficulty. The Navajoes, particularly the younger warriors, assumeda bullying and exacting attitude that the hunters were not likely tobrook; nor would they have submitted to it for a moment but for thepeculiar position in which their chief was placed. For his sake theyheld in as well as they could; but the tinder was apparent, and wouldnot bear many sparks before it blazed up. 

The first question was in relation to the number of the prisoners. Theenemy had nineteen, while we, without including the queen or the Mexicangirls, numbered twenty-one. This was in our favour; but, to oursurprise, the Indians insisted that their captives were grown women, that most of ours were children, and that two of the latter should beexchanged for one of the former!

To this absurdity Seguin replied that we could not agree; but, as he didnot wish to keep any of their prisoners, he would exchange thetwenty-one for the nineteen. 

"Twenty-one!" exclaimed a brave; "why, you have twenty-seven. Wecounted them on the bank. "

"Six of those you counted are our own people. They are whites andMexicans. "

"Six whites!" retorted the savage; "there are but five. Who is thesixth?"

"Perhaps it is our queen; she is light in colour. Perhaps the palechief has mistaken her for a white!"

"Ha! ha! ha!" roared the savages, in a taunting laugh. "Our queen awhite! Ha! ha! ha!"

"Your queen, " said Seguin, in a solemn voice; "your queen, as you callher, is my daughter. "

"Ha! ha! ha!" again howled they, in scornful chorus; "your daughter!Ha! ha! ha!" and the room rang with their demoniac laughter. 

"Yes!" repeated he, in a loud but faltering voice, for he now saw theturn that things were taking. "Yes, she is my daughter. "

"How can that be?" demanded one of the braves, an orator of the tribe. "You have a daughter among our captives; we know that. She is white asthe snow upon the mountain-top. Her hair is yellow as the gold uponthese armlets. The queen is dark in complexion; among our tribes thereare many as light as she, and her hair is like the wing of the blackvulture. How is that? Our children are like one another. Are notyours the same? If the queen be your daughter, then the golden-hairedmaiden is not. You cannot be the father of both. But no!" continuedthe subtle savage, elevating his voice, "the queen is not your daughter. She is of our race--a child of Montezuma--a queen of the Navajoes!"

"The queen must be returned to us!" exclaimed several braves; "she isours; we must have her!"

In vain Seguin reiterated his paternal claim. In vain he detailed thetime and circumstances of her capture by the Navajoes themselves. Thebraves again cried out--

"She is our queen; we must have her!"

Seguin, in an eloquent speech, appealed to the feelings of the oldchief, whose daughter was in similar circumstances; but it was evidentthat the latter lacked the power, if he had the will, to stay the stormthat was rising. The younger warriors answered with shouts of derision, one of them crying out that "the white chief was raving. "

They continued for some time to gesticulate, at intervals declaringloudly that on no terms would they agree to an exchange unless the queenwere given up. It was evident that some mysterious tie bound them tosuch extreme loyalty. Even the exchange of Dacoma was less desired bythem. 

Their demands were urged in so insulting a manner that we felt satisfiedit was their intention, in the end, to bring us to a fight. The rifles, so much dreaded by them, were absent; and they felt certain of obtaininga victory over us. 

The hunters were equally willing to be at it, and equally sure of aconquest. 

They only waited the signal from their leader. 

A signal was given; but, to their surprise and chagrin, it was one ofpeace!

Seguin, turning to them and looking down--for he was upon his feet--cautioned them in a low voice to be patient and silent. Then coveringhis eyes with his hand, he stood for some moments in an attitude ofmeditation. 

The hunters had full confidence in the talents as well as bravery oftheir chief. They knew that he was devising some plan of action, andthey patiently awaited the result. 

On the other side, the Indians showed no signs of impatience. Theycared not how much time was consumed, for they hoped that by this timeDacoma's party would be on their trail. They sat still, exchangingtheir thoughts in grunts and short phrases, while many of them filled upthe intervals with laughter. They felt quite easy, and seemed not inthe least to dread the alternative of a fight with us. Indeed, to lookat both parties, one should have said that, man to man, we would havebeen no match for them. They were all, with one or two exceptions, menof six feet--most of them over it--in height; while many of the hunterswere small-bodied men. But among these there was not one "whitefeather. "

The Navajoes knew that they themselves were well armed for closeconflict. They knew, too, that we were armed. Ha! they little dreamthow we were armed. They saw that the hunters carried knives andpistols; but they thought that, after the first volley, uncertain andill-directed, the knives would be no match for their terrible tomahawks. They knew not that from the belts of several of us--El Sol, Seguin, Garey, and myself--hung a fearful weapon, the most fearful of all othersin close combat: the Colt revolver. It was then but a new patent, andno Navajo had ever heard its continuous and death-dealing detonations. 

"Brothers!" said Seguin, again placing himself in an attitude to speak, "you deny that I am the father of the girl. Two of your captives, whomyou know to be my wife and daughter, are her mother and sister. Thisyou deny. If you be sincere, then, you cannot object to the proposal Iam about to make. Let them be brought before us; let her be brought. If she fail to recognise and acknowledge her kindred, then shall I yieldmy claim, and the maiden be free to return with the warriors of Navajo. "

The hunters heard this proposition with surprise. They knew thatSeguin's efforts to awaken any recollection of himself in the mind ofthe girl had been unsuccessful. What likelihood was there that shewould remember her mother? But Seguin himself had little hope of this, and a moment's reflection convinced us that his proposal was based uponsome hidden idea. 

He saw that the exchange of the queen was a _sine qua non_ with theIndians; and without this being granted, the negotiations wouldterminate abruptly, leaving his wife and younger daughter still in thehands of our enemies. He reflected on the harsh lot which would awaitthem in their captivity, while she returned but to receive homage andkindness. They must be saved at every sacrifice; she must be yielded upto redeem them. 

But Seguin had still another design. It was a strategic manoeuvre, adesperate and _dernier ressort_ on his part. It was this: he saw that, if he could once get the captives, his wife and daughter, down among thehouses, there would be a possibility, in the event of a fight, ofcarrying them off. The queen, too, might thus be rescued as well. Itwas the alternative suggested by despair. 

In a hurried whisper he communicated this to those of his comradesnearest him, in order to insure their prudence and patience. 

As soon as the proposal was made, the Navajoes rose from their seats, and clustered together in a corner of the room to deliberate. Theyspoke in low tones. We could not, of course, understand what was said;but from the expression of their faces, and their gesticulations, wecould tell that they seemed disposed to accept it. They knew that thequeen had not recognised Seguin as her father. They had watched herclosely as she rode down the opposite side of the barranca; in fact, conversed by signals with her, before we could interfere to prevent it. No doubt she had informed them of what happened at the canon withDacoma's warriors, and the probability of their approach. They hadlittle fear, then, that she would remember her mother. Her longabsence, her age when made captive, her after-life, and the more thankind treatment she had received at their hands, had long since blottedout every recollection of her childhood and its associations. Thesubtle savages well knew this; and at length, after a discussion whichlasted for nearly an hour, they resumed their seats, and signified theirassent to the proposal. 

Two men, one from each party, were now sent for the three captives, andwe sat waiting their arrival. 

In a short time they were led in. 

I find a difficulty in describing the scene that followed. The meetingof Seguin with his wife and daughter; my own short embrace and hurriedkiss; the sobs and swooning of my betrothed; the mother's recognition ofher long-lost child; the anguish that ensued as her yearning heart madeits appeals in vain; the half-indignant, half-pitying looks of thehunters; the triumphant gestures and ejaculations of the Indians: allformed points in a picture that lives with painful vividness in mymemory, though I am not sufficiently master of the author's art to paintit. 

In a few minutes the captives were led out of the house, guarded by twomen, while the rest of us remained to complete the negotiation. 

CHAPTER FORTY SIX. 

A CONFLICT WITH CLOSED DOORS. 

The occurrence did not improve the temper of either party, particularlythat of the hunters. The Indians were triumphant, but not a whit theless inclined to obstinacy and exaction. They now returned to theirformer offer. For those of our captives that were woman-grown theywould exchange one for one, and for their chief Dacoma they offered togive two; for the rest they insisted on receiving two for one. 

By this arrangement, we could ransom only about twelve of the Mexicanwomen; but finding them determined, Seguin at length assented to theseterms, provided they would allow us the privilege of choosing the twelveto be exchanged. 

To our surprise and indignation this was refused!

We no longer doubted what was to be the winding up of the negotiation. The air was filled with the electricity of anger. Hate kindled hate, and vengeance was burning in every eye. 

The Indians scowled on us, glancing malignantly out of their obliqueeyes. There was triumph, too, in their looks, for, they believedthemselves far stronger than we. 

On the other side sat the hunters quivering under a double indignation. I say double. I can hardly explain what I mean. They had never beforebeen so braved by Indians. They had, all their lives, been accustomed, partly out of bravado and partly from actual experience, to consider thered men their inferiors in subtilty and courage; and to be thus beardedby them, filled the hunters, as I have said, with a double indignation. It was like the bitter anger which the superior feels towards hisresisting inferior, the lord to his rebellious serf, the master to hislashed slave who has turned and struck him. It was thus the huntersfelt. 

I glanced along their line. I never saw faces with such expressions asI saw there and then. Their lips were white, and drawn tightly overtheir teeth; their cheeks were set and colourless; and their eyes, protruding forward, seemed glued in their sockets. There was no motionto be detected in the features of any, save the twitching of angrymuscles. Their right hands were buried in the bosoms of their half-openshirts, each, I knew, grasping a weapon; and they appeared not to sit, but to crouch forward, like panthers quivering upon the spring. 

There was a long interval of silence on both sides. 

It was broken by a cry from without--the scream of the war-eagle!

We should not have noticed this, knowing that these birds were common inthe Mimbres, and one might have flown over the ravine; but we thought, or fancied, that it had made an impression upon our adversaries. Theywere men not apt to show any sudden emotion; but it appeared to us that, all at once, their glances grew bolder, and more triumphant. Could ithave been a signal?

We listened for a minute. The scream was repeated; and although it wasexactly after the manner of a bird well known to us--the white-headedeagle--we sat with unsatisfied and tearful apprehensions. 

The young chief, he in the hussar dress, was upon his feet. He had beenthe most turbulent and exacting of our opponents. He was a man of mostvillainous and licentious character, so Rube had told us, butnevertheless holding great power among the braves. It was he who hadspoken in refusal of Seguin's offer, and he was now about to assign hisreasons. We knew them without that. 

"Why, " said he, looking at Seguin as he spoke, "why is it that the whitechief is so desirous of choosing among our captives? Is it that hewishes to get back the yellow-haired maiden?"

He paused a moment, as if for a reply; but Seguin made none. 

"If the white chief believes our queen to be his daughter, would not hewish that her sister should be her companion, and return with her to ourland?"

Again he paused; but, as before, Seguin remained silent. 

The speaker proceeded. 

"Why not let the yellow-haired maiden return with us, and become mywife? Who am I that ask this? A chief of the Navajoes, the descendantsof the great Montezuma; the son of their king!"

The savage looked around him with a vaunting air as he uttered thesewords. 

"Who is she, " he continued, "that I am thus begging for a bride? Thedaughter of one who is not even respected among his own people: thedaughter of a culatta!"

I looked at Seguin. I saw his form dilating. I saw the big veinsswelling along his throat. I saw gathering in his eyes that wildexpression I had once before noticed. I knew that the crisis was near. 

Again the eagle screamed!

"But, " proceeded the savage, seeming to draw new boldness from thesignal, "I shall beg no more. I love the white maiden. She must bemine; and this very night shall she sleep--"

He never finished the sentence. Seguin's bullet had sped, piercing thecentre of his forehead. I caught a glimpse of the red round hole, withits circle of blue powder, as the victim tell forward on his face!

All together we sprang to our feet. As one man rose hunters andIndians. As if from one throat, pealed the double shout of defiance;and, as if by one hand, knives, pistols, and tomahawks were drawntogether. The next moment we closed and battled!

Oh! it was a fearful strife, as the pistols cracked, the long knivesglittered, and the tomahawks swept the air; a fearful, fearful strife!

You would suppose that the first shock would have prostrated both ranks. It was not so. The early blows of a struggle like this are wild, andwell parried, and human life is hard to take. What were the lives ofmen like these?

A few fell. Some recoiled from the collision, wounded and bleeding, butstill to battle again. Some fought hand to hand; while several pairshad clutched, and were striving to fling each other in the desperatewrestle of death!

Some rushed for the door, intending to fight outside. A few got out;but the crowd pressed against it, the door closed, dead bodies fellbehind it; we fought in darkness. 

We had light enough for our purpose. The pistols flashed at quickintervals, displaying the horrid picture. The light gleamed uponfiend-like faces, upon red and waving weapons, upon prostrate forms ofmen, upon others struggling in every attitude of deadly conflict!

The yells of the Indians, and the not less savage shouts of their whitefoemen, had continued from the first; but the voices grew hoarser, andthe shouts were changed to groans, and oaths, and short, earnestexclamations. At intervals were heard the quick percussions of blows, and the dull, sodden sound of falling bodies. 

The room became filled with smoke and dust, and choking sulphur; and thecombatants were half-stifled as they fought. 

At the first break of the battle I had drawn my revolver, and fired itin the face of the closing foemen. I had fired shot after shot, some atrandom, others directed upon a victim. I had not counted the reports, until the cock "checking" on the steel nipple told me I had gone theround of the six chambers. 

This had occupied but as many seconds of time. Mechanically I stuck theempty weapon behind my belt, and, guided by an impulse, made for thedoor. Before I could reach it, it was closed, and I saw that to get outwas impossible. 

I turned to search for an antagonist; I was not long in finding one. Bythe flash of a pistol I saw one of the Indians rushing upon me withupraised hatchet. Up to this time something had hindered me fromdrawing my knife. I was now too late; and, holding out my arms to catchthe blow, I ducked my head towards the savage. 

I felt the keen blade cutting the flesh as it glanced along my shoulder. I was but slightly wounded. He had missed his aim from my stooping sosuddenly; but the impetus brought our bodies together, and the nextmoment we grappled. 

We stumbled over a heap of rock, and for some moments struggled togetherupon the ground, neither able to use his weapon. Again we rose, stilllocked in the angry embrace; again we were falling with terrible force. Something caught us in our descent. It shook; it gave way with acrashing sound, and we fell headlong into the broad and brilliant light!

I was dazzled and blinded. I heard behind me a strange rumbling likethe noise made by falling timbers; but I heeded not that: I was too busyto speculate upon causes. 

The sudden shock had separated us, and both rose at the same instant, again to grapple, and again to come together to the earth. We twistedand wriggled over the ground, among weeds and thorny cacti. I was everymoment growing weaker, while the sinewy savage, used to such combats, seemed to be gaining fresh nerve and breath. Thrice he had thrown meunder; but each time I had clutched his right arm, and prevented thedescending blow. I had succeeded in drawing my knife as we fell throughthe wall; but my arm was also held fast, and I was unable to use it. 

As we came to the ground for the fourth time, my antagonist fell underme. A cry of agony passed from his lips; his head "coggled" over amongthe weeds; and he lay in my arms without struggling. 

I felt his grasp gradually relaxing. I looked in his face. His eyeswere glassy and upturned. Blood was gurgling through his teeth. I sawthat he was dead. 

To my astonishment I saw this, for I knew I had not struck him as yet. I was drawing my arm from under him to do so, when I noticed that heceased to resist. But the knife now caught my eye. It was red, bladeand haft, and so was the hand that clasped it. 

As we fell I had accidentally held it point upward. My antagonist hadfallen upon the blade!

I now thought of my betrothed, and, untwining myself from the lithe andnerveless limbs of the savage, I rose to my feet. The ranche was inflames!

The roof had fallen in upon the brazero, and the dry shingles had caughtthe blaze. Men were crawling out from the burning ruin, but not to runaway. No! Under its lurking flames, amidst the hot smoke, they stillbattled fierce, and foaming, and frenzied. 

I did not stay to recognise whom they were, these tireless combatants. I ran forward, looking on all sides for the objects of my solicitude. The wave of female dresses caught my eye, far up the cliff, on the roadleading to the Navajo captives. It was they! The three were climbingthe steep path, each urged onward by a savage. 

My first impulse was to rush after; but at that moment fifty horsemenmade their appearance upon the hill, and came galloping downward. 

I saw the madness of attempting to follow them, and turned to retreattowards the other side, where we had left our captives and horses. As Iran across the bottom, shots rang in my ear, proceeding from our side ofthe barranca. Looking up, I descried the mounted hunters coming down ata gallop, pursued by a cloud of savage horsemen. It was the band ofDacoma!

Uncertain what to do, I stood for a moment where I was, and watched thepursuit. 

The hunters, on reaching the ranches, did not halt, but galloped on downthe valley, firing as they went. A body of Indians swept on after them, while another body pulled up, clustered around the blazing ruin, andcommenced searching among the walls. 

I was yet screened in the thicket of cacti; but I saw that myhiding-place would soon be pierced by the eyes of the subtle savages;and dropping upon my hands and knees, I crept into the cliff. Onreaching it, I found myself close to the mouth of a cave, a small shaftof the mine, and into this I at once betook myself. 

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN. 

A QUEER ENCOUNTER IN A CAVE. 

The place into which I had crawled was of irregular outlines. Rocksjutted along the sides, and between these, small lateral shafts had beendug, where the miners had followed the ramifications of the "quixa. "The cave was not a deep one; the vein had not proved profitable, and hadbeen abandoned for some other. 

I kept up it till I was fairly "in the dark"; and then groping againstone side, I found a recess, in which I ensconced myself. By peepinground the rock, I could see out of the cave and some distance over thebottom of the barranca, where the bushes grew thin and straggling. 

I had hardly seated myself when my attention was called to a scene thatwas passing outside. Two men on their hands and knees were crawlingthrough the cactus plants in front of the cave. Beyond them half adozen savages on horseback were beating the thicket, but had not yetseen the men. These I recognised easily. They were Gode and thedoctor. The latter was nearer me; and as he scrambled on over theshingle something started out of the rocks within reach of his hand. Inoticed that it was a small animal of the armadillo kind. I saw himstretch forward, clutch it, and with a pleased look deposit it in a bagthat was by his side. All this time the Indians were whooping andyelling behind him, and not fifty yards distant. 

Doubtless the animal was of some new species, but the zealous naturalistnever gave it to the world. He had scarcely drawn forth his hand againwhen a cry from the savages announced that he and Gode were discovered, and the next moment both lay upon the ground pierced with lances, and toall appearance dead!

Their pursuers now dismounted with the intention of scalping them. PoorReichter! his cap was pulled off; the bleeding trophy followed, and helay with the red skull towards the cave--a hideous spectacle!

Another Indian had alighted, and stood over the Canadian with his longknife in his hand. Although pitying my poor follower, and altogether inno humour for mirth, knowing what I did, I could not help watching theproceedings with some curiosity. 

The savage stood for a moment, admiring the beautiful curls thatembellished the head of his victim. He was no doubt thinking whathandsome fringes they would make for his leggings. He appeared to be inecstasies of delight; and from the flourishes which he made with hisknife, I could see that it was his intention to skin the whole head!

After cutting several capers around it, he stooped and grasped a fistfulof curls; but, before he had touched the scalp with his blade, the hairlifted off, displaying the white and marble-like skull!

With a cry of terror, the savage dropped the wig, and, running backward, fell over the body of the doctor. The cry attracted his, comrades; andseveral of them, dismounting, approached the strange object with looksof astonishment. One, more courageous than the rest, picked up the wig, which they all proceeded to examine with curious minuteness. 

Then, one after another went up to the shining skull and passed hisfingers over its smooth surface, all the while uttering exclamations ofsurprise. They tried on the wig, took it off, and put it on again, turning it in various ways. At length, he who claimed it as hisproperty pulled off his plumed head-dress and, adjusting the wig uponhis own head, front backward, stalked proudly around, with the longcurls dangling over his face. 

It was altogether a curious scene, and, under other circumstances, mighthave amused me. There was something irresistibly comic in the puzzledlooks of the actors; but I had been too deeply affected by the tragedyto laugh at the farce. There was too much of horror around me. Seguinperhaps dead; she gone for ever, the slave of the brutal savage. My ownperil, too, at the moment; for I knew not how soon I might be discoveredand dragged forth. This affected me least of all. My life was now oflittle value to me, and so I regarded it. 

But there is an instinct, so-called, of self-preservation, even when thewill ceases to act. Hopes soon began to shape themselves in my mind, and along with these the wish to live. Thoughts came. I might organisea powerful band; I might yet rescue her. Yes! even though years mightintervene, I would accomplish this. She would still be true! She wouldnever forget!

Poor Seguin! what a life of hope withered in an hour! he himself sealingthe sacrifice with his blood!

But I would not despair, even with his fate for a warning. I would takeup the drama where he had ended. The curtain should rise upon newscenes, and I would not abandon the stage until I had accomplished amore joyous finale; or, failing this, had reached the denouement ofdeath or vengeance. 

Poor Seguin! No wonder he had been a scalp-hunter. I could nowunderstand how holy was his hate for the ruthless red man. I, too, hadimbibed the passion. 

With such reflections passing hastily--for the scene I have described, and the sequent thoughts, did not occupy much time--I turned my eyesinwards to examine whether I was sufficiently concealed in my niche. They might take it into their heads to search the shaft. 

As I endeavoured to penetrate the gloom that extended inwards, my gazebecame riveted on an object that caused me to shrink back with a coldshudder. Notwithstanding the scenes I had just passed through, this wasthe cause of still another agony. 

In the thick of the darkness I could distinguish two small spots, roundand shining. They did not scintillate, but rather glistened with asteady greenish lustre. I knew that they were eyes!

I was in the cave with a panther, or with a still more terriblecompanion, the grizzly bear!

My first impulse was to press back into the recess where I had hiddenmyself. This I did, until my back leaned against the rocks. I had nothoughts of attempting to escape out. That would have been from thefrying-pan into the fire, for the Indians were still in front of thecave. Moreover, any attempt to retreat would only draw on the animal, perhaps at that moment straining to spring. 

I cowered closely, groping along my belt for the handle of my knife. Iclasped this at length, and drawing it forth, waited in a crouchingattitude. 

During all this time my eyes had remained fixed on the lustrous orbsbefore me. 

I saw that they were fixed upon mine, and watched me without as much aswinking. 

Mine seemed to be possessed of abstract volition. I could not take themoff. They were held by some terrible fascination; and I felt, orfancied, that the moment this should be broken, the animal would springupon me. 

I had heard of fierce brutes being conquered by the glance of the humaneye, and I endeavoured to look back my _vis-a-vis_ with interest. 

We sat for some time, neither of us moving an inch. I could see nothingof the animal's body; nothing but the green gleaming circles that seemedset in a ground of ebony. 

As they had remained motionless so long, I conjectured that the owner ofthem was still lying in his lair, and would not make his attack untilsomething disturbed him; perhaps until the Indians had gone away. 

The thought now occurred to me that I might better arm myself. I knewthat a knife would be of little avail against a grizzly bear. My pistolwas still in my belt, but it was empty. Would the animal permit me toload it? I resolved to make the attempt. 

Still leaving my eyes to fulfil their office, I felt for my flask andpistol, and finding both ready, I commenced loading. I proceeded withsilence and caution, for I knew that these animals could see in thedark, and that in this respect my _vis-a-vis_ had the advantage of me. I felt the powder in with my finger, and pushing the ball on top of it, rolled the cylinder to the right notch, and cocked. 

As the spring "clicked, " I saw the eyes start. "It will be on me now!"

Quick as the thought, I placed my finger to the trigger but before Icould level, a voice, with a well-known accent, restrained me. 

"Hold on thur!" cried the voice. "Why didn't 'ee say yur hide wurwhite? I thought 'twur some sneaking Injun. Who are 'ee, anyhow?'Tain't Bill Garey? No, Billee, 'tain't you, ole fellur. "

"No, " said I, recovering from my surprise; "it's not Bill. "

"I mout 'a guessed that. Bill wud 'a know'd me sooner. He wud 'aknow'd the glint o' this niggur's eyes as I wud his'n. Ah! poor Billee!I's afeerd that trapper's rubbed out; an' thur ain't many more o' hissort in the mountains. No, that thur ain't. 

"Rot it!" continued the voice, with a fierce emphasis; "this comes o'layin' one's rifle ahint them. Ef I'd 'a had Tar-guts wi' me, I wudn't'a been hidin' hyur like a scared 'possum. But she are gone; thatleetle gun are gone; an' the mar too; an' hyur I am 'ithout eyther beastor weepun; cuss the luck!"

And the last words were uttered with an angry hiss, that echoed throughevery part of the cave. 

"Yur the young fellur, the capt'n's friend, ain't 'ee?" inquired thespeaker, with a sudden change of tone. 

"Yes, " I replied. 

"I didn't see yur a-comin' in, or I mout 'a spoke sooner. I've got asmart lick across the arm, an' I wur just a-tyin' it up as ye tumbled inthur. Who did 'ee think this child wur?"

"I did not think you were anyone. I took you for a grizzly bear. "

"Ha! ha! ha! He! he! he! I thort so, when I heard the click o' yourpistol. He! he! he! If ever I sets my peepers on Bill Garey agin, I'llmake that niggur larf till his guts ache. Ole Rube tuk for a grizzly!If that ain't--Ha! ha! ha! ha! He! he! he! Ho! ho! hoo!"

And the old trapper chuckled at the conceit, as if he had just beenwitnessing some scene of amusement, and there was not an enemy within ahundred miles of him. 

"Did you see anything of Seguin?" I asked, wishing to learn whetherthere was any probability that my friend still lived. 

"Did I? I did; an' a sight that wur. Did 'ee iver see a catamountriz?"

"I believe I have, " said I. 

"Wal, that wur him. He wur in the shanty when it felled. So were Im'self; but I wa'n't there long arter. I creeped out some'rs about thedoor; an' jest then I seed the cap, hand to hand wi' an Injun in astan'-up tussle: but it didn't last long. The cap gi'n him asockdolloger some'rs about the ribs, an' the niggur went under; he did. "

"But what of Seguin? Did you see him afterwards?"

"Did I see him arterwards? No; I didn't. "

"I fear he is killed. "

"That ain't likely, young fellur. He knows these diggin's better'n anyo' us; an' he oughter know whur to cacher, I reckin. He's did that, I'll be boun'. "

"Ay, if he would, " said I, thinking that Seguin might have followed thecaptives, and thrown away his life recklessly. 

"Don't be skeert about him, young fellur. The cap ain't a-gwine to puthis fingers into a bee's nest whur thur's no honey; he ain't. "

"But where could he have gone, when you did not see him afterwards?"

"Whur could he 'a gone? Fifty ways he kud 'a gone through the brush. Ididn't think o' lookin' arter him. He left the Injun whur he hadthrow'd him, 'ithout raisin' the har; so I stooped down to git it; an'when I riz agin, he wa'n't thur no how. But that Injun wur. Lor'! thatInjun are some punkins; he are. "

"What Indian do you mean?"

"Him as jined us on the Del Norte--the Coco. "

"El Sol! What of him? is he killed?"

"Wal, he ain't, I reckin; nor can't a-be: that's this child's opeenyuno' it. He kim from under the ranche, arter it tumbled; an' his finedress looked as spick as ef it had been jest tuk out o' a bandy-box. Thur wur two at him, an', Lor'! how he fit them! I tackled on to one o'them ahint, an' gin him a settler in the hump ribs; but the way hefinished the other wur a caution to Crockett. 'Twur the puttiest lick Iever seed in these hyur mountains, an' I've seed a good few, I reckin. "

"How was it?"

"'Ee know, the Injun--that are, the Coco--fit wi' a hatchet?"

"Yes. "

"Wal, then; that ur's a desprit weepun, for them as knows how to use it;an' he diz; that Injun diz. T'other had a hatchet, too, but he didn'tkeep it long. 'Twur clinked out o' his hands in a minnit, an' then theCoco got a down blow at him. Wagh! it wur a down blow, an' it wa'n'tnuthin' else. It split the niggur's head clur down to the thrapple. 'Twus sep'rated into two halves as ef 't had been clove wi' a broad-axe!Ef 'ee had 'a seed the varmint when he kim to the ground, 'ee'd 'athort he wur double-headed. Jest then I spied the Injuns a-comin' downboth sides o' the bluff; an' havin' neyther beast nor weepun, exceptin'a knife, this child tuk a notion 'twa'n't safe to be thur any longer, an' cached; he did. "

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT. 

SMOKED OUT. 

Our conversation had been carried on in a low tone, for the Indiansstill remained in front of the cave. Many others had arrived, and wereexamining the skull of the Canadian with the same looks of curiosity andwonderment that had been exhibited by their comrades. 

Rube and I sat for some time in silence, watching them. The trapper hadflitted near me, so that he could see out and talk in whispers. 

I was still apprehensive that the savages might search the cave. 

"'Tain't likely, " said my companion. "They mout ef thur hadn't 'a beenso many o' these diggins, do 'ee see? Thur's a grist o' 'em--more'n ahundred--on t'other side; an' most o' the men who got clur tuk furrerdown. It's my notion the Injuns seed that, an' won't disturb--Ef thurain't that dog!"

I well understood the meaning of the emphasis with which these lastwords were repeated. My eyes, simultaneously with those of the speaker, had fallen upon the dog Alp. He was running about in front of the cave. I saw at a glance he was searching for me. 

The next moment he had struck the trail where I had crawled through thecacti, and came running down in the direction of the cave. 

On reaching the body of the Canadian, which lay directly in his track, he stopped for a moment and appeared to examine it. Then, uttering ashort yelp, he passed on to that of the doctor, where he made a similardemonstration. He ran several times from one to the other, but atlength left them; and, with his nose once more to the ground, disappeared out of our view. 

His strange actions had attracted the attention of the savages, who, oneand all, stood watching him. 

My companion and I were beginning to hope that he had lost me, when, toour dismay, he appeared a second time, coming down the trail as before. This time he leaped over the bodies, and the next moment sprang into themouth of the cave. 

A yell from without told us that we were lost. 

We endeavoured to drive the dog out again, and succeeded, Rube havingwounded him with his knife; but the wound itself, and the behaviour ofthe animal outside, convinced our enemies that someone was within theshaft. 

In a few seconds the entrance was darkened by a crowd of savages, shouting and yelling. 

"Now show yur shootin', young fellur!" said my companion. "It's the newkind o' pistol 'ee hev got. Load every ber'l o' it. "

"Shall I have time to load them?"

"Plenty o' time. They ain't a-gwine to come in 'ithout a light. Thurgone for a torch to the shanty. Quick wi' yur! Slap in the fodder!"

Without waiting to reply, I caught hold of my flask, and loaded theremaining five chambers of the revolver. I had scarcely finished whenone of the Indians appeared in front with a flaming brand, and was aboutstooping into the mouth of the cavern. 

"Now's yur time, " cried Rube. "Fetch the niggur out o' his boots!Fetch him!"

I fired, and the savage, dropping the torch, fell dead upon the top ofit!

An angry yell from without followed the report, and the Indiansdisappeared from the front. Shortly after, an arm was seen reaching in, and the dead body was drawn back out of the entrance. 

"What will they do next, think you?" I inquired of my companion. 

"I can't tell adzactly yit; but thur sick o' that game, I reckin. Loadthat ber'l agin. I guess we'll git a lot o' 'm afore we gins in. Cussthe luck! that gun, Tar-guts! Ef I only had that leetle piece hyur!'Ee've got six shots, have 'ee? Good! 'Ee mout chock up the cave wi'their karkidges afore they kin reach us. It ur a great weepun, an' nomistakes. I seed the cap use it. Lor'! how he made it tell on themniggers i' the shanty! Thur ain't many o' them about, I reckin. Loadsure, young fellur! Thur's plenty o' time. They knows what you've gotthur. "

During all this dialogue none of the Indians made their appearance, butwe could hear them on both sides of the shaft without. We knew theywere deliberating on what plan they would take to get at us. 

As Rube suggested, they seemed to be aware that the shot had come from arevolver. Doubtless some of the survivors of the late fight hadinformed them of the fearful havoc that had been made among them withour pistols, and they dreaded to face them. What other plan would theyadopt? Starve us out?

"They mout, " said Rube, in answer to my question, "an' kin if they try. Thur ain't a big show o' vittlin' hyur, 'ceptin' we chaw donnicks. Butthur's another way, ef they only hev the gumshin to go about it, that'llgit us sooner than starvin'. Ha!" ejaculated the speaker, withemphasis. "I thort so. Thur a-gwine to smoke us. Look 'ee yander!"

I looked forth. At a distance I saw several Indians coming in thedirection of the cave, carrying large bundles of brushwood. Theirintention was evident. 

"But can they do this?" I inquired, doubting the possibility of ourenemies being able to effect their purpose in that way; "can we not bearthe smoke?"

"Bar it! Yur green, young fellur. Do 'ee know what sort o' brush thura-toatin' yander?"

"No, " said I; "what is it?"

"It ur the stink-plant, then; an' the stinkinest plant 'ee ever smelt, Ireckin. The smoke o' it ud choke a skunk out o' a persimmon log. Itell 'ee, young 'un, we'll eyther be smoked out or smothered whur weare; an' this child hain't fit Injun for thirty yeern or better, to gounder that a way. When it gets to its wurst I'm a-gwine to make a rush. That's what I'm a-gwine ter do, young fellur. "

"But how?" I asked, hurriedly; "how shall we act then?"

"How? Yur game to the toes, ain't 'ee?"

"I am willing to fight to the last. "

"Wal, than, hyur's how, an' the only how: when they've raised the smokeso that they can't see us a-comin', we'll streak it out among 'em. Youhev the pistol, an' kin go fo'most. Shoot every niggur that clutches atye, an' run like blazes! I'll foller clost on yur heels. If we kinoncest git through the thick o' 'em, we mout make the brush, an' creepunder it to the big caves on t'other side. Them caves jines oneanother, an' we mout dodge them thur. I seed the time this 'coon kud 'arun a bit, but these hyur jeints ain't as soople as they wur oncest. Wekin try neverthemless; an' mind, young fellur, it's our only chance: do'ee hear?"

I promised to follow the directions that my never-despairing companionhad given me. 

"They won't get old Rube's scalp yit, they won't. He! he! he!"

I turned towards him. The man was actually laughing at this wild andstrangely-timed jest. It was awful to hear him. 

Several armfuls of brush were now thrown into the mouth of the cave. Isaw that it was the creosote plant, the ideodondo. 

It was thrown upon the still blazing torch, and soon caught, sending upa thick, black smoke. More was piled on; and the fetid vapour, impelledby some influence from without, began to reach our nostrils and lungs, causing an almost instantaneous feeling of sickness and suffocation. Icould not have borne it long. I did not stay to try how long, for atthat moment I heard Rube crying out--

"Now's your time, young fellur! Out, and gi' them fits!"

With a feeling of desperate resolve, I clutched my pistol and dashedthrough the smoking brushwood. I heard a wild and deafening shout. Isaw a crowd of men--of fiends. I saw spears, and tomahawks, and redknives raised, and--

CHAPTER FORTY NINE. 

A NOVEL MODE OF EQUITATION. 

When consciousness returned, I found that I was lying on the ground, andmy dog, the innocent cause of my captivity, was licking my face. Icould not have been long senseless, for the savages were stillgesticulating violently around me. One was waving them back. Irecognised him. It was Dacoma!

The chief uttered a short harangue that seemed to quiet the warriors. Icould not tell what he said, but I heard him use frequently the wordQuetzalcoatl. I knew that this was the name of their god, but I did notunderstand, at the time, what the saving of my life could have to dowith him. 

I thought that Dacoma was protecting me from some feeling of pity orgratitude, and I endeavoured to recollect whether I had shown him anyspecial act of kindness during his captivity. I had sadly mistaken themotives of that splendid savage. 

My head felt sore. Had they scalped me? With the thought I raised myhand, passing it over my crown. No. My favourite brown curls werestill there; but there was a deep cut along the back of my head--thedent of a tomahawk. I had been struck from behind as I came out, andbefore I could fire a single bullet. 

Where was Rube? I raised myself a little and looked around. He was notto be seen anywhere. 

Had he escaped, as he intended? No; it would have been impossible forany man, with only a knife, to have fought his way through so many. Moreover, I did not observe any commotion among the savages, as if anenemy had escaped them. None seemed to have gone off from the spot. What then had--? Ha! I now understood, in its proper sense, Rube'sjest about his scalp. It was not a _double-entendre_, but a _mot_ oftriple ambiguity. 

The trapper, instead of following me, had remained quietly in his den, where, no doubt, he was at that moment watching me, his scapegoat, andchuckling at his own escape. 

The Indians, never dreaming that there were two of us in the cave, andsatisfied that it was now empty, made no further attempts to smoke it. 

I was not likely to undeceive them. I knew that Rube's death or capturecould not have benefited me; but I could not help reflecting on thestrange stratagem by which the old fox had saved himself. 

I was not allowed much time for reflection. Two of the savages, seizingme by the arms, dragged me up to the still blazing ruin. On, heavens!was it for this Dacoma had saved me from their tomahawks? for this, themost cruel of deaths!

They proceeded to tie me hand and foot. Several others were around, submitting to the same treatment. I recognised Sanchez thebull-fighter, and the red-haired Irishman. There were three others ofthe band, whose names I had never learnt. 

We were in an open space in front of the burning ranche. We could seeall that was going on. 

The Indians were clearing it of the fallen and charred timbers to get atthe bodies of their friends. I watched their proceeding's with lessinterest, as I now knew that Seguin was not there. 

It was a horrid spectacle when the rubbish was cleared away, laying barethe floor of the ruin. More than a dozen bodies lay upon it, half-baked, half-roasted! Their dresses were burned off; but by theparts that remained still intact from the fire, we could easilyrecognise to what party each had belonged. The greater number of themwere Navajoes. There were also the bodies of hunters smoking insidetheir cindery shirts. I thought of Garey; but, as far as I could judge, he was not among them. 

There were no scalps for the Indians to take. The fire had been beforethem, and had not left a hair upon the heads of their dead foemen. 

Seemingly mortified at this, they lifted the bodies of the hunters, andtossed them once more into the flames that were still blazing up fromthe piled rafters. They gathered the knives, pistols, and tomahawksthat lay among the ashes; and carrying what remained of their own peopleout of the ruin, placed them in front. They then stood around them in acircle, and with loud voices chanted a chorus of vengeance. 

During all this proceeding we lay where we had been thrown, guarded by adozen savages. We were filled with fearful apprehensions. We saw thefire still blazing, and we saw that the bodies of our late comrades hadbeen thrown upon it. We dreaded a similar fate for our own. 

But we soon found that we were reserved for some other purpose. Sixmules were brought up, and upon these we were mounted in a novelfashion. We were first set astride on the bare backs, with our facesturned tailwards. Our feet were then drawn under the necks of theanimals, where our ankles were closely corded together. We were nextcompelled to bend down our bodies until we lay along the backs of themules, our chins resting on their rumps. In this position our arms weredrawn down until our hands met underneath, where they were tied tightlyby the wrists. 

The attitude was painful; and to add to this, our mules, not used to bethus packed, kicked and plunged over the ground, to the great mirth ofour captors. 

This cruel sport was kept up even after the mules themselves had gottired of it, by the savages pricking the animals with their spears, andplacing branches of the cactus under their tails. We were fainting whenit ended. 

Our captors now divided themselves into two parties, and started up thebarranca, taking opposite sides. One went with the Mexican captives andthe girls and children of the tribe. The larger party, under Dacoma--now head chief, for the other had been killed in the conflict--guardedus. 

We were carried up that side on which was the spring, and, arriving atthe water, were halted for the night. We were taken off the mules andsecurely tied to one another, our guard watching us without intermissiontill morning. We were then packed as before and carried westward acrossthe desert. 

CHAPTER FIFTY. 

A FAST DYE. 

After a four days' journey, painful even to be remembered, we re-enteredthe valley of Navajoa. The other captives, along with the greatcaballada, had arrived before us; and we saw the plundered cattlescattered over the plain. 

As we approached the town, we were met by crowds of women and children, far more than we had seen on our former visit. These were guests, whohad come in from other villages of the Navajoes that lay farther to thenorth. They were there to witness the triumphant return of thewarriors, and partake of the great feast that always follows asuccessful foray. 

I noticed many white faces among them, with features of the Iberianrace. They had been captives; they were now the wives of warriors. They were dressed like the others, and seemed to participate in thegeneral joy. They, like Seguin's daughter, had been Indianised. 

There were many Mestizoes, half-bloods, the descendants of Indians andtheir Mexican captives, the offspring of many a Sabine wedding. 

We were carried through the streets, and out to the western side of thevillage. The crowd followed us with mingled exclamations of triumph, hatred, and curiosity. At the distance of a hundred yards or so fromthe houses, and close to the river bank, our guards drew up. 

I had turned my eyes on all sides as we passed through, as well as myawkward position would permit I could see nothing of her, or any of thefemale captives. Where could they be? Perhaps in the temple. 

This building stood on the opposite side of the town, and the housesprevented me from seeing it. Its top only was visible from the spotwhere we had been halted. 

We were untied and taken down. We were happy at being relieved from thepainful attitude in which we had ridden all the way. We congratulatedourselves that we should now be allowed to sit upright. Ourself-congratulation was brief. We soon found that the change was "fromthe frying-pan into the fire. " We were only to be "turned. " We hadhitherto lain upon our bellies; we were now to be laid upon our backs. 

In a few moments the change was accomplished, our captors handling us asunceremoniously as though we had been inanimate things. Indeed we werenearly so. 

We were spread upon the green turf on our backs. Around each man fourlong pins were driven into the ground, in the form of a parallelogram. Our arms and legs were stretched out to their widest, and raw-hidethongs were looped about our wrists and ankles. These were passed overthe pins, and drawn so tightly that our joints cracked with the crueltension. Thus we lay, faces upturned, like so many hides spread out tobe sun-dried. 

We were placed in two ranks, "endways, " in such a manner that the headsof the front-rank men rested between the feet of their respective"rears. " As there were six of us in all, we formed three files, withshort intervals between. 

Our attitudes and fastenings left us without the power of moving a limb. The only member over which we had any control was the head; and this, thanks to the flexibility of our necks, we could turn about, so as tosee what was going on in front or on either side of us. 

As soon as we were fairly staked down, I had the curiosity to raise myhead and look around me. I found that I was "rear rank, right file, "and that my file leader was the _ci-devant_ soldier O'Cork. 

The Indian guards, after having stripped us of most of our clothing, left us; and the girls and squaws now began to crowd around. I noticedthat they were gathering in front of my position, and forming a densecircle around the Irishman. I was struck with their ludicrous gestures, their strange exclamations, and the puzzled expression of theircountenances. 

"Ta--yah! Ta--yah!" cried they, and the whole crowd burst into shrillscreams of laughter. 

What could it mean? Barney was evidently the subject of their mirth;but what was there about him to cause it, more than about any of therest of us?

I raised my head to ascertain: the riddle was solved at once. One ofthe Indians, in going off, had taken the Irishman's cap with him, andthe little, round, red head was exposed to view. It lay midway betweenmy feet, like a luminous ball, and I saw that it was the object ofdiversion. 

By degrees, the squaws drew nearer, until they were huddled up in athick crowd around the body of our comrade. At length one of themstooped and touched the head, drawing back her fingers with a start anda gesture, as though she had burned them. 

This elicited fresh peals of laughter, and very soon all the women ofthe village were around the Irishman, "scroodging" one another to get acloser view. None of the rest of us were heeded, except to be liberallytrampled upon; and half a dozen big, heavy squaws were standing upon mylimbs, the better to see over one another's shoulders. 

As there was no great stock of clothing to curtain the view, I could seethe Irishman's head gleaming like a meteor through the forest of ankles. 

After a while the squaws grew less delicate in their touch; and catchinghold of the short, stiff bristles, endeavoured to pluck them out, allthe while screaming with laughter. 

I was neither in the state of mind nor the attitude to enjoy a joke; butthere was a language in the back of Barney's head, an expression ofpatient endurance, that would have drawn smiles from a gravedigger; andSanchez and the others were laughing aloud. 

For a long time our comrade endured the infliction, and remained silent;but at length it became too painful for his patience, and he began tospeak out. 

"Arrah, now, girls, " said he, in a tone of good-humoured intreaty, "willyez be aizy? Did yez niver see rid hair afore?"

The squaws, on hearing the appeal, which of course they understood not, only showed their white teeth in loud laughter. 

"In trath, an' iv I had yez on the sod, at the owld Cove o' Cark beyant, I cud show yez as much av it as 'ud contint ye for yer lives. Arrah, now, keep aff me! Be the powers, ye're trampin' the toes aff me feet!Ach! don't rug me! Holy Mother! will yez let me alone? Divil resave yefor a set of--"

The tone in which the last words were uttered showed that O'Cork had atlength lost his temper; but this only increased the assiduity of histormentors, whose mirth now broke beyond bounds. They plucked himharder than ever, yelling all the while; so that, although he continuedto scold, I could only hear him at intervals ejaculating: "Mother avMoses!" "Tare-an-ages!" "Holy vistment!" and a variety of similarexclamations. 

This scene continued for several minutes; and then, all at once, therewas a lull, and a consultation among the women, that told us they weredevising some scheme. 

Several girls were sent off to the houses. These presently returned, bringing a large olla, and another vessel of smaller dimensions. Whatdid they intend to do with these? We soon learned. 

The olla was filled with water from the adjacent stream, and carried up, and the smaller vessel was set down beside Barney's head. We saw thatit contained the yucca soap of the Northern Mexicans. They were goingto wash out the red!

The Irishman's hand-stays were now loosened, so that he could situpright; and a copious coat of the "soft-soap" was laid on his head, completely covering his hair. A couple of sinewy squaws then took holdof him by the shoulders, and with bunches of bark fibres applied thewater, and scrubbed it in lustily. 

The application seemed to be anything but pleasant to Barney, who roaredout, ducking his head on all sides to avoid it. But this did not servehim. One of the squaws seized the head between her hands, and held itsteady, while the other set to it afresh and rubbed harder than ever. 

The Indians yelled and danced around; but in the midst of all I couldhear Barney sneezing, and shouting in a smothered voice--

"Holy Mother!--htch-tch! Yez may rub--tch-itch!--till yez fetch-tch theskin aff--atch-ich-ich! an' it won't--tscztsh!--come out. I tell yez--itch-ch! it's in the grain--itch-itch! It won't come out--itch-itch!--be me sowl it won't--atch-itch-hitch!"

But the poor fellow's expostulations were in vain. The scrubbingcontinued, with fresh applications of the yucca, for ten minutes ormore; and then the great olla was lifted, and its contents dashed uponhis head and shoulders. 

What was the astonishment of the women to find that instead of modifyingthe red colour, it only showed forth, if possible, more vivid than ever!

Another olla of water was lifted, and soused about the Irishman's ears, but with no better effect. 

Barney had not had such a washing for many a day; at least, not since hehad been under the hands of the regimental barber. 

When the squaws saw that, in spite of all their efforts, the dye stillstuck fast, they desisted, and our comrade was again staked down. Hisbed was not so dry as before; neither was mine, for the water hadsaturated the ground about us, and we lay in mud. But this was a smallvexation, compared with many others we were forced to put up with. 

For a long time the Indian women and children clustered around us, eachin turn minutely examining the head of our comrade. We, too, came infor a share of their curiosity; but O'Cork was "the elephant. "

They had seen hair like ours oftentimes upon their Mexican captives;but, beyond a doubt, Barney's was the first red poll that had ever beenscratched in the valley of Navajoa. 

Darkness came on at length, and the squaws returned to the village, leaving us in charge of the guards, who all the night sat watchfullybeside. 

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE. 

ASTONISHING THE NATIVES. 

Up to this time we had no knowledge of the fate that was designed forus; but, from all that we had ever heard of these savages, as well asfrom our own experience of them, we anticipated that it would be a cruelone. 

Sanchez, however, who knew something of their language, left us no roomto doubt such a result. He had gathered from the conversation of thewomen what was before us. After these had gone away, he unfolded theprogramme as he had heard it. 

"To-morrow, " said he, "they will dance the mamanchic--the great dance ofMontezuma. That is a fete among the girls and women. Next day will bea grand tournament, in which the warriors will exhibit their skill inshooting with the bow, in wrestling, and feats of horsemanship. If theywould let me join them, I could show them how. "

Sancho, besides being an accomplished torero, had spent his earlieryears in the circus, and was, as we all knew, a most splendid horseman. 

"On the third day, " continued he, "we are to `run amuck, ' if you knowwhat that is. "

We had all heard of it. 

"And on the fourth--"

"Well? upon the fourth?"

"They will roast us!"

We might have been more startled at this abrupt declaration had the ideabeen new to us, but it was not. The probability of such an end had beenin our thoughts ever since our capture. We knew that they did not saveus at the mine for the purpose of giving us an easier death; and weknew, too, that these savages never made men prisoners to keep themalive. Rube was an exception; but his story was a peculiar one, and heescaped only by his extreme cunning. "Their god, " continued Sanchez, "is the same as that of the Mexican Aztecs; for these people are of thatrace, it is believed. I don't know much about that, though I've heardmen talk of it. He is called by a queer, hard name. Carrai! I don'tremember it. "

"Quetzalcoatl?"

"Caval! that's the word. Pues, senores; he is a fire-god, and fond ofhuman flesh; prefers it roasted, so they say. That's the use we'll beput to. They'll roast us to please him, and at the same time to satisfythemselves. Dos pajaros al un golpe!" (Two birds with one stone. )

That this was to be our fate was no longer probable, but certain; and weslept upon the knowledge of it the best way we could. 

In the morning we observed dressing and painting among the Indians. After that began dancing, the dance of the mamanchic. 

This ceremony took place upon the prairie, at some distance out in frontof the temple. 

As it was about commencing, we were taken from our spread positions anddragged up near it, in order that we might witness the "glory of thenation. "

We were still tied, however, but allowed to sit upright. This was somerelief, and we enjoyed the change of posture much more than thespectacle. 

I could not describe the dance even if I had watched it, which I didnot. As Sanchez had said, it was carried on only by the women of thetribe. Processions of young girls, gaily and fantastically attired, andcarrying garlands of flowers, circled and leaped through a variety offigures. There was a raised platform, upon which a warrior and maidenrepresented Montezuma and his queen, and around these the girls dancedand chanted. The ceremony ended by the dancers kneeling in front, in agrand semicircle. I saw that the occupants of the throne were Dacomaand Adele. I fancied that the girl looked sad. 

"Poor Seguin!" thought I: "there is none to protect her now. Even thefalse father, the medicine chief, might have been her friend. He, too, is out of the way, and--"

But I did not occupy much time with thoughts of her; there was a farmore painful apprehension than that. My mind, as well as my eyes, haddwelt upon the temple during the ceremony. We could see it from thespot where we had been thrown down; but it was too distant for me todistinguish the faces of the white females that were clustered along itsterraces. She no doubt was among them, but I was unable to make herout. Perhaps it was better I was not near enough. I thought so at thetime. 

I saw Indian men among the captives; and I had observed Dacoma, previousto the commencement of the dance, proudly standing before them in allthe paraphernalia of his regal robes. 

Rube had given me the character of this chief: brave, but brutal. Myheart was oppressed with a painful heaviness as we were hurried back toour former places. 

Most of the next night was spent by the Indians in feasting. Not sowith us. We were rarely and scantily fed; and we suffered, too, fromthirst, our savage guards scarcely deigning to supply us with water, though a river Was running at our feet. 

Another morning, and the feasting recommenced. More sheep and cattlewere slaughtered, and the fires steamed anew with the red joints thatwere suspended over them. 

At an early hour the warriors arrayed themselves, though not in warattire, and the tournament commenced. We were again dragged forward towitness their savage sports, but placed still farther out on theprairie. 

I could distinguish, upon the terrace of the temple, the whitish dressesof the captives. The temple was their place of abode. 

Sanchez had told me this. He had heard it from the Indians as theyconversed one with another. The girls were to remain there until thefifth day, that after our sacrifice. Then the chief would choose one ofthe number for his own household, and the warriors would "gamble" forthe rest! Oh, these were fearful hours!

Sometimes I wished that I could see her again once before I died. Andthen reflection whispered me, it was better not. The knowledge of myfate would only add fresh bitterness to hers. Oh, these were fearfulhours!

I looked at the savage tournament. There were feats of arms and featsof equitation. Men rode at a gallop, with one foot only to be seen overthe horse, and in this attitude threw the javelin or shot the unerringshaft. Others vaulted from horse to horse, as they swept over theprairie at racing speed. Some leaped to their saddles, while theirhorses were running at a gallop, and some exhibited feats with thelasso. Then there was a mock encounter, in which the warriors unhorsedeach other, as knights of the olden time. 

It was, in fact, a magnificent spectacle--a grand hippodrome of thedesert; but I had no eyes for it. 

It had more attraction for Sanchez. I saw that he was observing everynew feat with interested attention. All at once he became restless. There was a strange expression on his face; some thought, some suddenresolve, had taken possession of him. 

"Say to your braves, " said he, speaking to one of our guards in theNavajo tongue; "say that I can beat the best of them at that. I couldteach them to ride a horse. "

The savage reported what his prisoner had said, and shortly afterseveral mounted warriors rode up, and replied to the taunt. 

"You! a poor white slave, ride with the warriors of Navajo! Ha! ha!ha!"

"Can you ride upon your head?" inquired the torero. 

"On our heads? How?"

"Standing upon your head while your horse is in a gallop. "

"No; nor you, nor anyone. We are the best riders on the plains; wecannot do that. "

"I can, " affirmed the bull-fighter, with emphasis. 

"He is boasting! he is a fool, " shouted several. 

"Let us see!" cried one. "Give him a horse; there is no danger. "

"Give me my own horse, and I will show you. "

"Which is your horse?"

"None of them now, I suppose; but bring me that spotted mustang, andclear me a hundred lengths of him on the prairie, and I shall teach youa trick. "

As I looked to ascertain what horse Sanchez meant, I saw the mustangwhich he had ridden from the Del Norte. I noticed my own favourite, too, browsing with the rest. 

After a short consultation among themselves, the torero's request wasacceded to. The horse he had pointed out was lassoed out of thecaballada and brought up, and our comrade's thongs were taken off. TheIndians had no fear of his escaping. They knew that they could soonovertake such a steed as the spotted mustang; moreover, there was apicket constantly kept at each entrance of the valley. Even could hebeat them across the plains, it would be impossible for him to get outto the open country. The valley itself was a prison. 

Sanchez was not long in making his preparations. He strapped abuffalo-skin tightly on the back of his horse, and then led him roundfor some time in a circle, keeping him in the same track. 

After practising thus for a while, he dropped the bridle and uttered apeculiar cry, on hearing which the animal fell into a slow gallop aroundthe circle. When the horse had accomplished two or three rounds, thetorero leaped upon his back, and performed the well-known feat of ridingon his head. 

Although a common one among professional equestrians, it was new to theNavajoes, who looked on with shouts of wonder and admiration. Theycaused the torero to repeat it again and again, until the spottedmustang had become all of one colour. 

Sanchez, however, did not leave off until he had given his spectatorsthe full programme of the "ring, " and had fairly "astonished thenatives. "

When the tournament was ended, and we were hauled back to theriver-side, the torero was not with us. Fortunate Sanchez! He had wonhis life! Henceforth he was to be riding-master to the Navajo nation!

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO. 

RUNNING AMUCK. 

Another day came: our day for action. We saw our enemies making theirpreparations; we saw them go off to the woods, and return bringing clubsfreshly cut from the trees; we saw them dress as for ball-play orrunning. 

At an early hour we were taken forward to the front of the temple. Onarriving there, I cast my eyes upward to the terrace. My betrothed wasabove me; I was recognised. 

There was mud upon my scanty garments, and spots of blood; there wasdust on my hair; there were scars upon my arms; my face and throat werestained with powder, blotches of black, burnt powder: in spite of all, Iwas recognised. The eyes of love saw through all!

I find no scene in all my experience so difficult to describe as this. Why? There was none so terrible; none in which so many wild emotionswere crowded into a moment. A love like ours, tantalised by proximity, almost within reach of each other's embrace, yet separated by relentlessfate, and that for ever; the knowledge of each other's situation; thecertainty of my death: these and a hundred kindred thoughts rushed intoour hearts together. They could not be detailed; they cannot bedescribed; words will not express them. You may summon fancy to youraid. 

I heard her screams, her wild words and wilder weeping. I saw her snowycheek and streaming hair, as, frantic, she rushed forward on the parapetas if to spring out. I witnessed her struggles as she was drawn back byher fellow-captives, and then, all at once, she was quiet in their arms. She had fainted, and was borne out of my sight. 

I was tied by the wrists and ankles. During the scene I had twice risento my feet, forced up by my emotions, but only to fall down again. 

I made no further effort, but lay upon the ground in the agony ofimpotence. 

It was but a short moment; but, oh! the feelings that passed over mysoul in that moment! It was the compressed misery of a life-time. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

For a period of perhaps half an hour I regarded not what was going onaround me. My mind was not abstracted, but paralysed: absolutely dead. I had no thoughts about anything. 

I awoke at length from this stupor. I saw that the savages hadcompleted their preparations for the cruel sport. 

Two rows of men extended across the plain to a distance of severalhundred yards. They were armed with clubs, and stood facing each otherwith an interval of three or four paces between their ranks. Down theinterval we were to run, receiving blows from everyone who could givethem as we passed. Should any of us succeed in running through thewhole line, and reach the mountain foot before we could be overtaken, the promise was that our lives should be spared!

"Is this true, Sanchez?" I whispered to the torero, who was standingnear me. 

"No, " was the reply, given also in a whisper. "It is only a trick tomake you run the better and show them the more sport. You are to dieall the same. I heard them say so. "

Indeed, it would have been slight grace had they given us our lives onsuch conditions; for it would have been impossible for the strongest andswiftest man to have passed through between their lines. 

"Sanchez!" I said again, addressing the torero, "Seguin was yourfriend. You will do all you can for her?"

Sanchez well knew whom I meant. 

"I will! I will!" he replied, seeming deeply affected. 

"Brave Sanchez! tell her how I felt for her. No, no, you need not tellher that. "

I scarce knew what I was saying. 

"Sanchez!" I again whispered--a thought that had been in my mind nowreturning--"could you not--a knife, a weapon--anything--could you notdrop one when I am set loose?"

"It would be of no use. You could not escape if you had fifty. "

"It may be that I could not. I would try. At the worst, I can but die;and better die with a weapon in my hands!"

"It would be better, " muttered the torero in reply. "I will try to helpyou to a weapon, but my life may be--"

He paused. "If you look behind you, " he continued, in a significantmanner, while he appeared to examine the tops of the distant mountains, "you may see a tomahawk. I think it is held carelessly. It might besnatched. "

I understood his meaning, and stole a glance around. Dacoma was at afew paces' distance, superintending the start. I saw the weapon in hisbelt. It was loosely stuck. It might be snatched!

I possess extreme tenacity of life, with energy to preserve it. I havenot illustrated this energy in the adventures through which we havepassed; for, up to a late period, I was merely a passive spectator ofthe scenes enacted, and in general disgusted with their enactment. Butat other times I have proved the existence of those traits in mycharacter. In the field of battle, to my knowledge, I have saved mylife three times by the quick perception of danger and the promptness toward it off. Either less or more brave, I should have lost it. Thismay seem an enigma; it appears a puzzle; it is an experience. 

In my earlier life I was addicted to what are termed "manly sports. " Inrunning and leaping I never met my superior; and my feats in suchexercises are still recorded in the memories of my college companions. 

Do not wrong me, and think that I am boasting of these peculiarities. The first is but an accident in my mental character; and others are onlyrude accomplishments, which now, in my more matured life, I see butlittle reason to be proud of. I mention them only to illustrate whatfollows. 

Ever since the hour of my capture I had busied my mind with plans ofescape. Not the slightest opportunity had as yet offered. All alongthe journey we had been guarded with the most zealous vigilance. 

During this last night a new plan had occupied me. It had beensuggested by seeing Sanchez upon his horse. 

I had matured it all, except getting possession of a weapon; and I hadhopes of escape, although I had neither time nor opportunity to detailthem to the torero. It would have served no purpose to have told himthem. 

I knew that I might escape, even without the weapon; but I needed it, incase there might be in the tribe a faster runner than myself. I mightbe killed in the attempt; that was likely enough; but I knew that deathcould not come in a worse shape than that in which I was to meet it onthe morrow. Weapon or no weapon, I was resolved to escape, or die inattempting it. 

I saw them untying O'Cork. He was to run first. 

There was a circle of savages around the starting-point; old men andidlers of the village, who stood there only to witness the sport. 

There was no apprehension of our escaping; that was never thought of: aninclosed valley, with guards at each entrance; plenty of horses standingclose by, that could be mounted in a few minutes. It would beimpossible for any of us to get away from the ground. At least, sothought they. 

O'Cork started. 

Poor Barney! His race was not a long one. He had not run ten pacesdown the living avenue when he was knocked over, and carried back, bleeding and senseless, amidst the yells of the delighted crowd. 

Another of the men shared a similar fate, and another; and then theyunbound me. 

I rose to my feet, and, during the short interval allowed me, stretchedmy limbs, imbuing my soul and body with all the energy that my desperatecircumstances enabled me to concentrate within them. 

The signal was again given for the Indians to be ready, and they weresoon in their places, brandishing their long clubs, and impatientlywaiting for me to make the start. 

Dacoma was behind me. With a side glance I had marked well where hestood; and backing towards him, under pretence of getting a fairer"break, " I came close up to the savage. Then suddenly wheeling, withthe spring of a cat and the dexterity of a thief, I caught the tomahawkand jerked it from his belt. 

I aimed a blow, but in my hurry missed him. I had no time for another. I turned and ran. He was so taken by surprise that I was out of hisreach before he could make a motion to follow me. 

I ran, not for the open avenue, but to one side of the circle ofspectators, where were the old men and idlers. 

These had drawn their hand weapons, and were closing towards me in athick rank. Instead of endeavouring to break through them, which Idoubted my ability to accomplish, I threw all my energy into the spring, and leaped clear over their shoulders. Two or three stragglers struckat me as I passed them, but missed their aim; and the next moment I wasout upon the open plain, with the whole village yelling at my heels. 

I well knew for what I was running. Had it not been for that, I shouldnever have made the start. I was running for the caballada. 

I was running, too, for my life, and I required no encouragement toinduce me to make the best of it. 

I soon distanced those who had been nearest me at starting; but theswiftest of the Indians were the young men who had formed the lines, andI saw that these were now forging ahead of the others. 

Still they were not gaining upon me. My school training stood me inservice now. 

After a mile's chase, I saw that I was within less than half thatdistance of the caballada, and at least three hundred yards ahead of mypursuers; but to my horror, as I glanced back, I saw mounted men! Theywere still far behind, but I knew they would soon come up. Was itpossible he could hear me?

I knew that in these elevated regions sounds are heard twice theordinary distance; and I shouted, at the top of my voice, "Moro! Moro!"

I did not halt, but ran on, calling as I went. 

I saw a sudden commotion among the horses. Their heads were tossed up, and then one dashed out from the drove and came galloping towards me. Iknew the broad black chest and red muzzle. I knew them at a glance. Itwas my brave steed, my Moro!

The rest followed, trooping after; but before they were up to trampleme, I had met my horse, and flung myself, panting, upon his back!

I had no rein; but my favourite was used to the guidance of my voice, hands, and knees; and directing him through the herd, I headed for thewestern end of the valley. I heard the yells of the mounted savages asI cleared the caballada; and looking back, I saw a string of twenty ormore coming after me as fast as their horses could gallop. 

But I had no fear of them now. I knew my Moro too well; and after I hadcleared the ten miles of valley, and was springing up the steep front ofthe sierra, I saw my pursuers still back upon the plain. 

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE. 

A CONFLICT UPON A CLIFF. 

My horse, idle for days, had recovered his full action, and bore me upthe rocky path with proud, springy step. My nerves drew vigour fromhis, and the strength of my body was fast returning. It was well. Iwould soon be called upon to use it. The picket was still to be passed. 

While escaping from the town, in the excitement of the more proximateperil I had not thought of this ulterior one. I now remembered it. Itflashed upon me of a sudden, and I commenced gathering my resolution tomeet it. 

I knew there was a picket upon the mountain! Sanchez had said so; hehad heard them say so. What number of men composed it? Sanchez hadsaid two, but he was not certain of this. Two would be enough, morethan enough for me, still weak, and armed as I was with a weapon in theuse of which I had little skill. 

How would they be armed? Doubtless with bows, lances, tomahawks, andknives. The odds were all against me. 

At what point should I find them? They were videttes. Their chief dutywas to watch the plains without. They would be at some station, then, commanding a view of these. 

I remembered the road well--the same by which we had first entered thevalley. There was a platform near the western brow of the sierra. Irecollected it, for we had halted upon it while our guide went forwardto reconnoitre. A cliff overhung this platform. I remembered that too;for during the absence of the guide, Seguin and I had dismounted andclimbed it. It commanded a view of the whole outside country to thesouth and west. No doubt, then, on that very cliff would the videttesbe stationed. 

Would they be on its top? If so, it might be best to make a dash, andpass them before they could descend to the road, running the risk oftheir missiles, their arrows and lances. Make a dash! No; that wouldbe impossible. I remembered that the path at both ends of the platformnarrowed to a width of only a few feet, with the cliff rising above itand the canon yawning below. It was, in fact, only a ledge of theprecipice, along which it was dangerous to pass even at a walk. Moreover, I had re-shod my horse at the mission. The iron was wornsmooth; and I knew that the rock was as slippery as glass. 

All these thoughts passed through my mind as I neared the summit of thesierra. The prospect was appalling. The peril before me was extreme, and under other circumstances I would have hesitated to encounter it. But I knew that that which threatened from behind was not lessdesperate. There was no alternative; and with only half-formedresolutions as to how I should act, I pushed forward. 

I rode with caution, directing my horse as well as I could upon thesofter parts of the trail, so that his hoof-strokes might not be heard. At every turn I halted, and scanned the profile of each new prospect;but I did not halt longer than I could help. I knew that I had no timeto waste. 

The road ascended through a thin wood of cedars and dwarf pinons. Itwould zigzag up the face of the mountain. Near the crest of the sierrait turned sharply to the right, and trended in to the brow of the canon. There the ledge already mentioned became the path, and the roadfollowed its narrow terrace along the very face of the precipice. 

On reaching this point I caught view of the cliff where I expected tosee the vidette. I had guessed correctly--he was there, and, to myagreeable surprise, there was only one: a single savage. 

He was seated upon the very topmost rock of the sierra, and his largebrown body was distinctly visible, outlined against the pale blue sky. He was not more than three hundred yards from me, and about a third ofthat distance above the level of the ledge along which I had to pass. 

I halted the moment I caught sight of him, and sat making a hurriedreconnaissance. As yet he had neither seen nor heard me. His back wasto me, and he appeared to be gazing intently towards the west. Besidethe rock on which he was, his spear was sticking in the ground, and hisshield, bow, and quiver were leaning against it. I could see upon hisperson the sparkle of a knife and tomahawk. 

I have said my reconnaissance was a hurried one. I was conscious of thevalue of every moment, and almost at a glance I formed my resolution. That was, to "run the gauntlet, " and attempt passing before the Indiancould descend to intercept me. Obedient to this impulse, I gave myanimal the signal to move forward. 

I rode slowly and cautiously, for two reasons: because my horse darednot go otherwise; and I thought that, by riding quietly, I might getbeyond the vidette without attracting his notice. The torrent washissing below. Its roar ascended to the cliff; it might drown the soundof the hoof-strokes. 

With this hope I stole onward. My eye passed rapidly from one to theother; from the savage on the cliff to the perilous path along which myhorse crawled, shivering with affright. 

When I had advanced about six lengths upon the ledge, the platform camein view, and with it a group of objects that caused me to reach suddenlyforward and grasp the forelock of my Moro--a sign by which, in theabsence of a bit, I could always halt him. He came at once to a stand, and I surveyed the objects before me with a feeling of despair. 

They were two horses, mustangs; and a man, an Indian. The mustangs, bridled and saddled, were standing quietly out upon the platform; and alasso, tied to the bit-ring of one of them, was coiled around the wristof the Indian. The latter was sitting upon his hams, close up to thecliff, so that his back touched the rock. His arms lay horizontallyacross his knees, and upon these his head rested. I saw that he wasasleep. Beside him were his bow and quiver, his lance and shield, allleaning against the cliff. 

My situation was a terrible one. I knew that I could not pass himwithout being heard, and I knew that pass him I must. In fact, I couldnot have gone back had I wished it; for I had already entered upon theledge, and was riding along a narrow shelf where my horse could notpossibly have turned himself. 

All at once, the idea entered my mind that I might slip to the ground, steal forward, and with my tomahawk--

It was a cruel thought, but it was the impulse of instinct, the instinctof self-preservation. 

It was not decreed that I should adopt so fearful an alternative. Moro, impatient at being delayed in the perilous position, snorted and struckthe rock with his hoof. The clink of the iron was enough for the sharpears of the Spanish horses. They neighed on the instant. The savagessprang to their feet, and their simultaneous yell told me that both haddiscovered me. 

I saw the vidette upon the cliff pluck up his spear, and commencehurrying downward; but my attention was soon exclusively occupied withhis comrade. 

The latter, on seeing me, had leaped to his feet, seized his bow, andvaulted, as if mechanically, upon the back of his mustang. Then, uttering a wild shout, he trotted over the platform, and advanced alongthe ledge to meet me. 

An arrow whizzed past my head as he came up; but in his hurry he hadaimed badly. 

Our horses' heads met. They stood muzzle to muzzle with eyes dilated, their red nostrils steaming into each other. Both snorted fiercely, asif each was imbued with the wrath of his rider. They seemed to knowthat a death-strife was between us. 

They seemed conscious, too, of their own danger. They had met at thevery narrowest part of the ledge. Neither could have turned or backedoff again. One or other must go over the cliff--must fall through adepth of a thousand feet into the stony channel of the torrent!

I sat with a feeling of utter helplessness. I had no weapon with whichI could reach my antagonist; no missile. He had his bow, and I saw himadjusting a second arrow to the string. 

At this crisis three thoughts passed through my mind; not as I detailthem here, but following each other like quick flashes of lightning. Myfirst impulse was to urge my horse forward, trusting to his superiorweight to precipitate the lighter animal from the ledge. Had I beenworth a bridle and spurs, I should have adopted this plan; but I hadneither, and the chances were too desperate without them. I abandonedit for another. I would hurl my tomahawk at the head of my antagonist. No! The third thought! I will dismount, and use my weapon upon themustang. 

This last was clearly the best; and, obedient to its impulse, I slippeddown between Moro and the cliff. As I did so, I heard the "hist" ofanother arrow passing my cheek. It had missed me from the suddenness ofmy movements. 

In an instant I squeezed past the flanks of my horse, and glided forwardupon the ledge, directly in front of my adversary. 

The animal, seeming to guess my intentions, snorted with affright andreared up, but was compelled to drop again into the same tracks. 

The Indian was fixing another shaft. Its notch never reached thestring. As the hoofs of the mustang came down upon the rock, I aimed myblow. I struck the animal over the eye. I felt the skull yieldingbefore my hatchet, and the next moment horse and rider, the latterscreaming and struggling to clear himself of the saddle, disappearedover the cliff. 

There was a moment's silence, a long moment, in which I knew they werefalling--falling--down that fearful depth. Then came a loud splash, theconcussion of their united bodies on the water below!

I had no curiosity to look over, and as little time. When I regained myupright attitude (for I had come to my knees in giving the blow), I sawthe vidette just leaping upon the platform. He did not halt a moment, but advanced at a run, holding his spear at the charge. 

I saw that I should be impaled unless I could parry the thrust. Istruck wildly, but with success. The lance-blade glinted from the headof my weapon. Its shaft passed me; and our bodies met with a shock thatcaused us both to reel upon the very edge of the cliff. 

As soon as I had recovered my balance, I followed up my blows, keepingclose to my antagonist, so that he could not again use his lance. Seeing this, he dropped the weapon and drew his tomahawk. We now foughthand to hand, hatchet to hatchet!

Backward and forward along the ledge we drove each other, as theadvantage of the blows told in favour of either, or against him. 

Several times we grappled, and would have pushed each other over; butthe fear that each felt of being dragged after mutually restrained us, and we let go, and trusted again to our tomahawks. 

Not a word passed between us. We had nothing to say, even could we haveunderstood each other. But we had no boast to make, no taunt to urge, nothing before our minds but the fixed dark purpose of murdering oneanother!

After the first onset the Indian had ceased yelling, and we both foughtin the intense earnestness of silence. 

There were sounds, though: an occasional sharp exclamation, our quick, high breathing, the clinking of our tomahawks, the neighing of ourhorses, and the continuous roar of the torrent. These were thesymphonies of our conflict. 

For some minutes we battled upon the ledge. We were both cut andbruised in several places, but neither of us had as yet received orinflicted a mortal wound. 

At length, after a continuous shower of blows, I succeeded in beating myadversary back, until we found ourselves out upon the platform. Therewe had ample room to wind our weapons, and we struck with more energythan ever. After a few strokes, our tomahawks met, with a violentconcussion, that sent them flying from our hands. 

Neither dared stoop to regain his weapon; and we rushed upon each otherwith naked arms, clutched, wrestled a moment, and then fell together tothe earth. I thought my antagonist had a knife. I must have beenmistaken, otherwise he would have used it; but without it, I soon foundthat in this species of encounter he was my master. His muscular armsencircled me until my ribs cracked under the embrace. We rolled alongthe ground, over and over each other. Oh, God! we were nearing the edgeof the precipice. 

I could not free myself from his grasp. His sinewy fingers were acrossmy throat. They clasped me tightly around the trachea, stopping mybreath. He was strangling me. 

I grew weak and nerveless. I could resist no longer. I felt my holdrelax. I grew weaker and weaker. I was dying. I was--I--Oh, Heaven!pard--on. Oh--!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I could not have been long insensible; for when consciousness returned Iwas still warm, sweating from the effects of the struggle, and my woundswere bleeding freshly and freely. I felt that I yet lived. I saw thatI was still upon the platform; but where was my antagonist? Why had nothe finished me? Why had not he flung me over the cliff?

I rose upon my elbow and looked around. I could see no living thingsbut my own horse and that of the Indian galloping over the platform, kicking and plunging at each other. 

But I heard sounds, sounds of fearful import, like the hoarse, angryworrying of dogs, mingling with the cries of a human voice--a voiceuttered in agony!

What could it mean? I saw that there was a break in the platform, adeep cut in the rock; and out of this the sounds appeared to issue. 

I rose to my feet, and, tottering towards the spot, looked in. It wasan awful sight to look upon. The gully was some ten feet in depth; andat its bottom, among the weeds and cacti, a huge dog was engaged intearing something that screamed and struggled. It was a man, an Indian. All was explained at a glance. The dog was Alp; the man was my lateantagonist!

As I came upon the edge, the dog was on the top of his adversary, andkept himself uppermost by desperate bounds from side to side, stilldashing the other back as he attempted to rise to his feet. The savagewas crying in despair. I thought I saw the teeth of the animal fast inhis throat, but I watched the struggle no longer. Voices from behindcaused me to turn round. My pursuers had reached the canon, and wereurging their animals along the ledge. 

I staggered to my horse, and, springing upon his back, once moredirected him to the terrace--that part which led outward. In a fewminutes I had cleared the cliff and was hurrying down the mountain. AsI approached its foot I heard a rustling in the bushes that on bothsides lined the path. Then an object sprang out a short distance behindme. It was the Saint Bernard. 

As he came alongside he uttered a low whimper and once or twice waggedhis tail. I knew not how he could have escaped, for he must have waiteduntil the Indians reached the platform; but the fresh blood that stainedhis jaws, and clotted the shaggy hair upon his breast, showed that hehad left one with but little power to detain him. 

On reaching the plain I looked back. I saw my pursuers coming down theface of the sierra; but I had still nearly half a mile of start, and, taking the snowy mountain for my guide, I struck out into the openprairie. 

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR. 

AN UNEXPECTED RENCONTRE. 

As I rode off from the mountain foot, the white peak glistened at adistance of thirty miles. There was not a hillock between: not a brakeor bush, excepting the low shrubs of the artemisia. 

It was not yet noon. Could I reach the snowy mountain before sunset?If so, I trusted in being able to follow our old trail to the mine. Thence, I might keep on to the Del Norte, by striking a branch of thePaloma or some other lateral stream. Such were my plans, undefined as Irode forth. 

I knew that I should be pursued almost to the gates of El Paso; and, when I had ridden forward about a mile, a glance to the rear showed methat the Indians had just reached the plain, and were striking out afterme. 

It was no longer a question of speed. I knew that I had the heels oftheir whole cavalcade. Did my horse possess the "bottom"?

I knew the tireless, wiry nature of the Spanish mustang; and theiranimals were of that race. I knew they could gallop for a long daywithout breaking down, and this led me to fear for the result. 

Speed was nothing now, and I made no attempt to keep it up. I wasdetermined to economise the strength of my steed. I could not beovertaken so long as he lasted; and I galloped slowly forward, watchingthe movements of my pursuers, and keeping a regular distance ahead ofthem. 

At times I dismounted to relieve my horse, and ran alongside of him. Mydog followed, occasionally looking up in my face, and seeminglyconscious why I was making such a hurried journey. 

During all the day I was never out of sight of the Indians; in fact, Icould have distinguished their arms and counted their numbers at anytime. There were in all about a score of horsemen. The stragglers hadgone back, and only the well-mounted men now continued the pursuit. 

As I neared the foot of the snowy peak, I remembered there was water atour old camping-ground in the pass; and I pushed my horse faster, inorder to gain time to refresh both him and myself. I intended to make ashort halt, and allow the noble brute to breathe himself and snatch abite of the bunch-grass that grew around the spring. There was nothingto fear so long as his strength held out, and I knew that this was theplan to sustain it. 

It was near sundown as I entered the defile. Before riding in among therocks I looked back. During the last hour I had gained upon mypursuers. They were still at least three miles out upon the plain, andI saw that they were toiling on wearily. 

I fell into a train of reflection as I rode down the ravine. I was nowupon a known trail. My spirits rose; my hopes, so long clouded over, began to assume a brightness and buoyancy, greater from the veryinfluence of reaction. I should still be able to rescue my betrothed. My whole energies, my fortune, my life, would be devoted to this oneobject. I would raise a band stronger than ever Seguin had commanded. I should get followers among the returning employes of the caravan;teamsters whose term of service had expired. I would search the postsand mountain rendezvous for trappers and hunters. I would apply to theMexican Government for aid, in money--in troops. I would appeal to thecitizens of El Paso, of Chihuahua, of Durango. 

"Ge-hosaphat! Hyur's a fellur ridin' 'ithout eyther saddle or bridle!"

Five or six men with rifles sprang out from the rocks, surrounding me. 

"May an Injun eat me ef 'tain't the young fellur as tuk me for agrizzly! Billee! look hyur! hyur he is! the very fellur! He! he! he!He! he! he!"

"Rube! Garey!"

"What! By Jove, it's my friend Haller! Hurrah! Old fellow, don't youknow me?"

"Saint Vrain!"

"That it is. Don't I look like him? It would have been a harder taskto identify you but for what the old trapper has been telling us aboutyou. But come! how have you got out of the hands of the Philistines?"

"First tell me who you all are. What are you doing here?"

"Oh, we're a picket! The army is below. "

"The army?"

"Why, we call it so. There's six hundred of us; and that's about as bigan army as usually travels in these parts. "

"But who? What are they?"

"They are of all sorts and colours. There's the Chihuahuanos andPassenos, and niggurs, and hunters, and trappers, and teamsters. Yourhumble servant commands these last-named gentry. And then there's theband of your friend Seguin--"

"Seguin! Is he--"

"What? He's at the head of all. But come! they're camped down by thespring. Let us go down. You don't look overfed; and, old fellow, there's a drop of the best Paso in my saddle-bags. Come!"

"Stop a moment! I am pursued. "

"Pursued!" echoed the hunters, simultaneously raising their rifles, andlooking up the ravine. 

"How many?"

"About twenty. "

"Are they close upon you?"

"No. "

"How long before we may expect them?"

"They are three miles back, with tired horses, as you may suppose. "

"Three-quarters--halt an hour at any rate. Come! we'll have time to godown and make arrangements for their reception. Rube! you with the restcan remain here. We shall join you before they get forward. Come, Haller!--come!"

Following my faithful and warm-hearted friend, I rode on to the spring. Around it I found "the army"; and it had somewhat of that appearance, for two or three hundred of the men were in uniform. These were thevolunteer guards of Chihuahua and El Paso. 

The late raid of the Indians had exasperated the inhabitants, and thisunusually strong muster was the consequence. Seguin, with the remnantof his band, had met them at El Paso, and hurried them forward on theNavajo trail. It was from him Saint Vrain had heard of my capture; andin hopes of rescuing me had joined the expedition with about forty orfifty employes of the caravan. 

Most of Seguin's band had escaped after the fight in the barranca, andamong the rest, I was rejoiced to hear, El Sol and La Luna. They werenow on their return with Seguin, and I found them at his tent. 

Seguin welcomed me as the bearer of joyful news. They were still safe. That was all I could tell him, and all he asked for during our hurriedcongratulation. 

We had no time for idle talk. A hundred men immediately mounted androde up the ravine. On reaching the ground occupied by the picket, theyled their horses behind the rocks, and formed an ambuscade. The orderwas, that all the Indians must be killed or taken. 

The plan hastily agreed upon was, to let them pass the ambushed men, andride on until they had got in sight of the main body; then bothdivisions were to close upon them. 

It was a dry ravine above the spring, and the horses had made no tracksupon its rocky bed. Moreover, the Indians, ardent in their pursuit ofme, would not be on the outlook for any sign before reaching the water. Should they pass the ambuscade, then not a man of them would escape, asthe defile on both sides was walled in by a precipice. 

After the others had gone, about a hundred men at the spring leaped intotheir saddles, and sat with their eyes bent up the pass. 

They were not long kept waiting. A few minutes after the ambuscade hadbeen placed, an Indian showed himself round an angle of the rock, abouttwo hundred yards above the spring. He was the foremost of thewarriors, and must have passed the ambushed horsemen; but as yet thelatter lay still. Seeing a body of men, the savage halted with a quickjerk; and then, uttering a cry, wheeled and rode back upon his comrades. These, imitating his example, wheeled also; but before they had fairlyturned themselves in the ravine, the "cached" horsemen sprang out in abody from the rocks and came galloping down. 

The Indians, now seeing that they were completely in the trap, withoverpowering numbers on both sides of them, threw down their spears andbegged for mercy. 

In a few minutes they were all captured. The whole affair did notoccupy half an hour; and, with our prisoners securely tied, we returnedto the spring. 

The leading men now gathered around Seguin to settle on some plan forattacking the town. Should we move on to it that night?

I was asked for my advice, and of course answered, "Yes! the sooner thebetter, for the safety of the captives. "

My feelings, as well as those of Seguin, could not brook delay. Besides, several of our late comrades were to die on the morrow. Wemight still be in time to save them. 

How were we to approach the valley?

This was the next point to be discussed. 

The enemy would now be certain to have their videttes at both ends, andit promised to be clear moonlight until morning. They could easily seesuch a large body approaching from the open plain. Here then was adifficulty. 

"Let us divide, " said one of Seguin's old band; "let a party go in ateach end. That'll git 'em in the trap. "

"Wagh!" replied another, "that would never do. Thar's ten miles o'rough wood thar. If we raised the niggurs by such a show as this, they'd take to them, gals and all, an' that's the last we'd see o'them. "

This speaker was clearly in the right. It would never do to make ourattack openly. Stratagem must again be used. 

A head was now called into the council that soon mastered thedifficulty, as it had many another. That was the skinless, earless headof the trapper Rube. 

"Cap, " said he, after a short delay, "'ee needn't show yur crowd tillwe've first took the luk-outs by the eend o' the kenyun. "

"How can we take them?" inquired Seguin. 

"Strip them twenty niggurs, " replied Rube, pointing to our captives, "an' let twenty o' us put on their duds. Then we kin take the youngfellur--him hyur as tuk me for the grizzly! He! he! he! Ole Rube tukfor a grizzly! We kin take him back a pris'ner. Now, cap, do 'ee seehow?"

"You would have these twenty to keep far in the advance then, capturethe videttes, and wait till the main body comes up?"

"Sartinly; thet's my idee adzactly. "

"It is the best, the only one. We shall follow it. " And Seguinimmediately ordered the Indians to be stripped of their dresses. Theseconsisted mostly of garments that had been plundered from the people ofthe Mexican towns, and were of all cuts and colours. 

"I'd recommend 'ee, cap, " suggested Rube, seeing that Seguin was lookingout to choose the men for his advance party, "I'd recommend 'ee to takea smart sprinklin' of the Delawars. Them Navaghs is mighty 'cute andnot easily bamfoozled. They mout sight white skin by moonlight. Themo' us that must go along 'll have to paint Injun, or we'll be fooledarter all; we will. "

Seguin, taking this hint, selected for the advance most of the Delawareand Shawano Indians; and these were now dressed in the clothes of theNavajoes. He himself, with Rube, Garey, and a few other whites, made upthe required number. I, of course, was to go along and play the role ofa prisoner. 

The whites of the party soon accomplished their change of dress, and"painted Injun, " a trick of the prairie toilet well known to all ofthem. 

Rube had but little change to make. His hue was already of sufficientdeepness for the disguise, and he was not going to trouble himself bythrowing off the old shirt or leggings. That could hardly have beendone without cutting both open, and Rube was not likely to make such asacrifice of his favourite buckskins. He proceeded to draw the othergarments over them, and in a short time was habited in a pair ofslashing calzoneros, with bright buttons from the hip to the ankle. These, with a smart, tight-fitting jacket that had fallen to his share, and a jaunty sombrero cocked upon his head, gave him the air of a mostcomical dandy. The men fairly yelled at seeing him thus metamorphosed, and old Rube himself grinned heartily at the odd feelings which thedress occasioned him. 

Before the sun had set, everything was in readiness, and the advancestarted off. The main body, under Saint Vrain, was to follow an hourafter. A few men, Mexicans, remained by the spring, in charge of theNavajo prisoners. 

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE. 

THE RESCUE. 

We struck directly across the plain for the eastern entrance of thevalley. We reached the canon about two hours before day. Everythingturned out as we had anticipated. There was an outpost of five Indiansat the end of the pass, but we had stolen upon them unawares, and theywere captured without the necessity of our firing a shot. 

The main body came up soon after, and preceded by our party as before, passed through the canon. Arriving at the border of the woods nearestthe town, we halted, and concealed ourselves among the trees. 

The town was glistening in the clear moonlight, and deep silence wasover the valley. There were none stirring at so early an hour, but wecould descry two or three dark objects down by the river. We knew themto be the sentinels that stood over our captive comrades. The sight wasgratifying, for it told us they still lived. They little dreamed, poorfellows! how near was the hour of their deliverance. For the samereasons that had influenced us on a former occasion, the attack was notto be made until daybreak; and we waited as before, but with a verydifferent prospect. There were now six hundred warriors in the town--about our own number; and we knew that a desperate engagement was beforeus. We had no fear as to the result; but we feared that the vengefulsavages might take it into their heads to despatch their captives whilewe fought. They knew that to recover these was our main object, and, ifthemselves defeated, that would give them the satisfaction of a terriblevengeance. 

All this we knew was far from improbable; but to guard against thepossibility of such an event, every precaution was to be taken. 

We were satisfied that the captive women were still in the temple. Rubeassured us that it was their universal custom to keep new prisonersthere for several days after their arrival, until they were finallydistributed among the warriors. The queen, too, dwelt in this building. 

It was resolved, then, that the disguised party should ride forward, conducting me, as their prisoner, by the first light; and that theyshould surround the temple, and by a clever _coup_ secure the whitecaptives. A signal then given on the bugle, or the first shot fired, was to bring the main body forward at a gallop. 

This was plainly the best plan, and having fully arranged its details, we waited the approach of the dawn. 

It was not long in coming. The moonlight became mixed with the faintrays of the aurora, and objects were seen more distinctly. As the milkyquartz caught the hues of morning, we rode out of our cover, and forwardover the plain. I was apparently tied upon my horse, and guardedbetween two of the Delawares. 

On approaching the town we saw several men upon the roofs. They ran toand fro, summoning others out, and large groups began to appear alongthe terraces. As we came nearer we were greeted with shouts ofcongratulation. 

Avoiding the streets, we pushed directly for the temple at a brisk trot. On arriving at its base we suddenly halted, flung ourselves from ourhorses, and climbed the ladders. There were many women upon theparapets of the building. Among these Seguin recognised his daughter, the queen. She was at once secured and forced into the inside. Thenext moment I held my betrothed in my arms, while her mother was by ourside. The other captives were there; and, without waiting to offer anyexplanation, we hurried them all within the rooms, and guarded the doorswith our pistols. 

The whole manoeuvre had not occupied two minutes but before itscompletion a wild cry announced that the ruse was detected. Vengefulyells rang over the town; and the warriors, leaping down from theirhouses, ran towards the temple. 

Arrows began to hurtle around us; but above all other sounds pealed thenotes of the bugle, summoning our comrades to the attack. 

Quick upon the signal they were seen debouching from the woods andcoming down at a gallop. 

When within two hundred yards of the houses, the charging horsemendivided into two columns, and wheeled round the town, with the intentionof attacking it on both sides. 

The Indians hastened to defend the skirts of the village; but in spiteof their arrow-flights, which dismounted several, the horsemen closedin, and, flinging themselves from their horses, fought hand to handamong the walls. The shouts of defiance, the sharp ringing of rifles, and the louder reports of the escopettes, soon announced that the battlehad fairly begun. 

A large party, headed by El Sol and Saint Vrain, had ridden up to thetemple. Seeing that we had secured the captives, these too dismounted, and commenced an attack upon that part of the town; clambering up to thehouses, and driving out the braves who defended them. 

The fight now became general. Shouts and sounds of shots rent the air. Men were seen upon high roofs, face to face in deadly and desperateconflict. Crowds of women, screaming and terrified, rushed along theterraces, or ran out upon the plain, making for the woods. Frightenedhorses, snorting and neighing, galloped through the streets, and offover the open prairie, with trailing bridles; while others, inclosed incorrals, plunged and broke over the walls. It was a wild scene--aterrific picture!

Through all, I was only a spectator. I was guarding a door of thetemple in which were our own friends. My elevated position gave me aview of the whole village, and I could trace the progress of the battlefrom house to house. I saw that many were falling on both sides, forthe savages fought with the courage of despair. I had no fears for theresult. The whites, too, had wrongs to redress, and by the remembranceof these were equally nerved for the struggle. In this kind ofencounter they had the advantage in arms. It was only on the plainsthat their savage foes were feared, when charging with their long anddeath-dealing lances. 

As I continued to gaze over the azoteas a terrific scene riveted myattention, and I forgot all others. Upon a high roof two men wereengaged in combat fierce and deadly. Their brilliant dresses hadattracted me, and I soon recognised the combatants. They were Dacomaand the Maricopa!

The Navajo fought with a spear, and I saw that the other held his rifleclubbed and empty. 

When my eye first rested upon them, the latter had just parried athrust, and was aiming a blow at his antagonist. It fell withouteffect; and Dacoma, turning quickly, brought his lance again to thecharge. Before El Sol could ward it off, the thrust was given, and theweapon appeared to pass through his body!

I involuntarily uttered a cry, as I expected to see the noble Indianfall. What was my astonishment at seeing him brandish his tomahawk overhis head, and with a crashing blow stretch the Navajo at his feet!

Drawn down by the impaling shaft, he fell over the body, but in a momentstruggled up again, drew the long lance from his flesh, and totteringforward to the parapet, shouted out--

"Here, Luna! Our mother is avenged!"

I saw the girl spring upon the roof, followed by Garey; and the nextmoment the wounded man sank fainting in the arms of the trapper. 

Rube, Saint Vrain, and several others now climbed to the roof, andcommenced examining the wound. I watched them with feelings of painfulsuspense, for the character of this most singular man had inspired mewith friendship. Presently Saint Vrain joined me, and I was assuredthat the wound was not mortal. The Maricopa would live. 

The battle was now ended. The warriors who survived had fled to theforest. Shots were heard only at intervals; an occasional shout, theshriek of some savage discovered lurking among the walls. 

Many white captives had been found in the town, and were brought infront of the temple, guarded by the Mexicans. The Indian women hadescaped to the woods during the engagement. It was well; for thehunters and volunteer soldiery, exasperated by wounds and heated by theconflict, now raged around like furies. Smoke ascended from many of thehouses; flames followed; and the greater part of the town was soonreduced to a smouldering ruin. 

We stayed all that day by the Navajo village, to recruit our animals andprepare for our homeward journey across the desert. The plunderedcattle were collected. Some were slaughtered for immediate use, and therest placed in charge of vaqueros, to be driven on the hoof. Most ofthe Indian horses were lassoed and brought in, some to be ridden by therescued captives, others as the booty of the conquerors. But it was notsafe to remain long in the valley. There were other tribes of theNavajoes to the north, who would soon be down upon us. There were theirallies, the great nations of the Apaches to the south, and the Nijorasto the west; and we knew that all these would unite and follow on ourtrail. The object of the expedition was attained, at least as far asits leader had designed it. A great number of captives were recovered, whose friends had long since mourned them as lost for ever. It would besome time before they would renew those savage forays in which they hadannually desolated the pueblos of the frontier. 

By sunrise of the next day we had repassed the canon, and were ridingtowards the snowy mountain. 

CHAPTER FIFTY SIX. 

EL PASO DEL NORTE. 

I will not describe the recrossing of the desert plains, nor will Idetail the incidents of our homeward journey. With all its hardshipsand weariness, to me it was a pleasant one. It is a pleasure to attendupon her we love, and that along the route was my chief duty. Thesmiles I received far more than repaid me for the labour I underwent inits discharge. But it was not labour. It was no labour to fill herxuages with fresh water at every spring or runlet, to spread the blanketsoftly over her saddle, to weave her a _quitasol_ out of the broadleaves of the palmilla, to assist her in mounting and dismounting. No;that was not labour to me. 

We were happy as we journeyed. I was happy, for I knew that I hadfulfilled my contract and won my bride; and the very remembrance of theperils through which we had so lately passed heightened the happiness ofboth. But one thing cast an occasional gloom over our thoughts--thequeen, Adele. 

She was returning to the home of her childhood, not voluntarily, but asa captive--captive to her own kindred, her father and mother!

Throughout the journey both these waited upon her with tender assiduity, almost constantly gazing at her with sad and silent looks. There waswoe in their hearts. 

We were not pursued; or, if so, our pursuers never came up. Perhaps wewere not followed at all. The foe had been crippled and cowed by theterrible chastisement, and we knew it would be some time before theycould muster force enough to take our trail. Still we lost not amoment, but travelled as fast as the ganados could be pushed forward. 

In five days we reached the Barranca del Oro, and passed the old mine, the scene of our bloody conflict. During our halt among the ruinedranches, I strayed away from the rest, impelled by a painful curiosityto see if aught remained of my late follower or his fellow-victim. Iwent to the spot where I had last seen their bodies. Yes; two skeletonslay in front of the shaft, as cleanly picked by the wolves as if theyhad been dressed for the studio of an anatomist. It was all thatremained of the unfortunate men. 

After leaving the Barranca del Oro, we struck the head waters of the RioMimbres; and, keeping on the banks of that stream, followed it down tothe Del Norte. Next day we entered the pueblo of El Paso. 

A scene of singular interest greeted us on our arrival. As we nearedthe town, the whole population flocked out to meet us. Some had comeforth from curiosity, some to welcome us and take part in the ceremonythat hailed our triumphant return, but not a few impelled by fardifferent motives. We had brought with us a large number of rescuedcaptives--nearly fifty in all--and these were soon surrounded by a crowdof citizens. In that crowd were yearning mothers and fond sisters, lovers newly awakened from despair, and husbands who had not yet ceasedto mourn. There were hurried inquiries, and quick glances, thatbetokened keen anxiety. There were "scenes" and shouts of joy, as eachone recognised some long-lost object of a dear affection. But therewere other scenes of a diverse character, scenes of woe and wailing; forof many of those who had gone forth, but a few days before, in the prideof health and the panoply of war, many came not back. 

I was particularly struck with one episode--a painful one to witness. Two women of the poblana class had laid hold upon one of the captives, agirl of, I should think, about ten years of age. Each claimed the girlfor her daughter, and each of them held one of her arms, not rudely, butto hinder the other from carrying her off. A crowd had encircled them, and both the women were urging their claims in loud and plaintive voice. 

One stated the age of the girl, hastily narrated the history of hercapture by the savages, and pointed to certain marks upon her person, towhich she declared she was ready at any moment to make _juramento_. Theother appealed to the spectators to look at the colour of the child'shair and eyes, which slightly differed from that of the other claimant, and called upon them to note the resemblance she bore to another, whostood by, and who, she alleged, was the child's eldest sister. Bothtalked at the same time, and kissed the girl repeatedly as they talked. 

The little wild captive stood between the two, receiving their alternateembraces with a wondering and puzzled expression. She was, in truth, amost interesting child, habited in the Indian costume, and browned bythe sun of the desert. Whichever might have been the mother, it wasevident she had no remembrance of either of them; for here there was nomother! In her infancy she had been carried off to the desert, and, like the daughter of Seguin, had forgotten the scenes of her childhood. She had forgotten father--mother--all!

It was, as I have said, a scene painful to witness; the women's looks ofanguish, their passionate appeals, their wild but affectionate embraceslavished upon the girl, their plaintive cries mingled with sobs andweeping. It was indeed a painful scene. 

It was soon brought to a close, at least as far as I witnessed it. Thealcalde came upon the ground; and the girl was given in charge to thepolicia, until the true mother should bring forward more definite proofsof maternity. I never heard the finale of this little romance. 

The return of the expedition to El Paso was celebrated by a triumphantovation. Cannon boomed, bells rang, fireworks hissed and sputtered, masses were sung, and music filled the streets. Feasting and merrimentfollowed, and the night was turned into a blazing illumination of waxcandles, and _un gran funcion de balle_--a fandango. 

Next morning, Seguin, with his wife and daughters, made preparations tojourney on to the old hacienda on the Del Norte. The house was stillstanding; so we had heard. It had not been plundered. The savages, ontaking possession of it, had been closely pressed by a body of Pasenos, and had hurried off with their captives, leaving everything else as theyhad found it. 

Saint Vrain and I were to accompany the party to their home. 

The chief had plans for the future, in which both I and my friend wereinterested. There we were to mature them. 

I found the returns of my trading speculation even greater than SaintVrain had promised. My ten thousand dollars had been trebled. SaintVrain, too, was master of a large amount; and we were enabled to bestowour bounty on those of our late comrades who had proved themselvesworthy. 

But most of them had received "bounty" from another source. As we rodeout from El Paso, I chanced to look back. There was a long string ofdark objects waving over the gates. There was no mistaking what theywere, for they were unlike anything else. They were scalps!

CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN. 

TOUCHING THE CHORDS OF MEMORY. 

It is the second evening after our arrival at the old house on the DelNorte. We have gone up to the azotea--Seguin, Saint Vrain, and myself;I know not why, but guided thither by our host. Perhaps he wishes tolook once more over that wild land, the theatre of so many scenes in hiseventful life; once more, for upon the morrow he leaves it for ever. Our plans have been formed; we journey upon the morrow; we are goingover the broad plains to the waters of the Mississippi. They go withus. 

It is a lovely evening, and warm. The atmosphere is elastic; such anatmosphere as you can find only on the high tables of the western world. It seems to act upon all animated nature, judging from its voices. There is joy in the songs of the birds, in the humming of the homewardbees. There is a softness, too, in those sounds that reach us from thefarther forest; those sounds usually harsh; the voices of the wilder andfiercer creatures of the wilderness. All seem attuned to peace andlove. 

The song of the arriero is joyous; for many of these are below, packingfor our departure. 

I, too, am joyous. I have been so for days; but the light atmospherearound, and the bright prospect before me, have heightened thepulsations of my happiness. 

Not so my companions on the azotea. Both seem sad. 

Seguin is silent. I thought he had climbed up here to take a last lookof the fair valley. Not so. He paces backward and forward with foldedarms, his eyes fixed upon the cemented roof. They see no farther; theysee not at all. The eye of his mind only is active, and that is lookinginward. His air is abstracted; his brow is clouded; his thoughts aregloomy and painful. I know the cause of all this. She is still astranger!

But Saint Vrain--the witty, the buoyant, the sparkling Saint Vrain--whatmisfortune has befallen him? What cloud is crossing the rose-colouredfield of his horoscope? What reptile is gnawing at his heart, that noteven the sparkling wine of El Paso can drown? Saint Vrain isspeechless; Saint Vrain is sighing; Saint Vrain is sad! I half divinethe cause. Saint Vrain is--

The tread of light feet upon the stone stairway--the rustling of femaledresses!

They are ascending. They are Madame Seguin, Adele, Zoe. 

I look at the mother--at her features. They, too, are shaded by amelancholy expression. Why is not she happy? Why not joyous, havingrecovered her long-lost, much-loved child? Ah! she has not yetrecovered her!

I turn my eyes on the daughter--the elder one--the queen. That is thestrangest expression of all. 

Have you seen the captive ocelot? Have you seen the wild bird thatrefuses to be tamed, but against the bars of its cage-prison still beatsits bleeding wings? If so, it may help you to fancy that expression. Icannot depict it. 

She is no longer in the Indian costume. That has been put aside. Shewears the dress of civilised life, but she wears it reluctantly. Shehas shown this, for the skirt is torn in several places, and the bodice, plucked open, displays her bosom, half-nude, heaving under the wildthoughts which agitate it. 

She accompanies them, but not us a companion. She has the air of aprisoner, the air of the eagle whose wings have been clipped. Sheregards neither mother nor sister. Their constant kindness has failedto impress her. 

The mother has led her to the azotea, and let go her hand. She walks nolonger with them, but crouching, and in starts, from place to place, obedient to the impulse of strong emotions. 

She has reached the western wing of the azotea, and stands close upagainst the parapet, gazing over--gazing upon the Mimbres. She knowsthem well, those peaks of sparkling selenite, those watch-towers of thedesert land: she knows them well. Her heart is with her eyes. 

We stand watching her, all of us. She is the object of commonsolicitude. She it is who keeps between all hearts and the light. Thefather looks sadly on; the mother looks sadly on; Zoe looks sadly on;Saint Vrain, too. No! that is a different expression. His gaze is thegaze of--

She has turned suddenly. She perceives that we are all regarding herwith attention. Her eyes wander from one to the other. They are fixedupon the glance of Saint Vrain!

A change comes over her countenance--a sudden change, from dark tobright, like the cloud passing from the sun. Her eye is fired by a newexpression. I know it well. I have seen it before; not in her eyes, but in those that resemble them: the eyes of her sister. I know itwell. It is the light of love!

Saint Vrain! His, too, are lit by a similar emotion! Happy SaintVrain! Happy that it is mutual. As yet he knows not that, but I do. Icould bless him with a single word. 

Moments pass. Their eyes mingle in fiery communion. They gaze intoeach other. Neither can avert their glance. A god rules them: the godof love!

The proud and energetic attitude of the girl gradually forsakes her; herfeatures relax; her eye swims with a softer expression; and her wholebearing seems to have undergone a change. 

She sinks down upon a bench. She leans against the parapet. She nolonger turns to the west. She no longer gazes upon the Mimbres. Herheart is no longer in the desert land!

No; it is with her eyes, and these rest almost continuously on SaintVrain. They wander at intervals over the stones of the azotea; then herthoughts do not go with them; but they ever return to the same object, to gaze upon it tenderly, more tenderly at each new glance. 

The anguish of captivity is over. She no longer desires to escape. There is no prison where he dwells. It is now a paradise. Henceforththe doors may be thrown freely open. That little bird will make nofurther effort to fly from its cage. It is tamed. 

What memory, friendship, entreaties, had tailed to effect, love hadaccomplished in a single instant. Love, mysterious power, in onepulsation had transformed that wild heart; had drawn it from the desert. 

I fancied that Seguin had noticed all this, for he was observing hermovements with attention. I fancied that such thoughts were passing inhis mind, and that they were not unpleasing to him, for he looked lessafflicted than before. But I did not continue to watch the scene. Adeeper interest summoned me aside; and, obedient to the sweet impulse, Istrayed towards the southern angle of the azotea. 

I was not alone. My betrothed was by my side; and our hands, like ourhearts, were locked in each other. 

There was no secrecy about our love; with Zoe there never had been. 

Nature had prompted the passion. She knew not the conventionalities ofthe world, of society, of circles refined, soi-disant. She knew notthat love was a passion for one to be ashamed of. 

Hitherto no presence had restrained her in its expression--not eventhat, to lovers of less pure design, awe-inspiring above all others--thepresence of the parents. Alone or in their company, there was nodifference in her conduct. She knew not the hypocrisies of artificialnatures; the restraints, the intrigues, the agonies of atoms that act. 

She knew not the terror of guilty minds. She obeyed only the impulseher Creator had kindled within her. 

With me it was otherwise. I had shouldered society; though not muchthen, enough to make me less proud of love's purity--enough to render meslightly sceptical of its sincerity. But through her I had now escapedfrom that scepticism. I had become a faithful believer in the nobilityof the passion. 

Our love was sanctioned by those who alone possessed the right tosanction it. It was sanctified by its own purity. 

We are gazing upon a fair scene: fairer now, at the sunset hour. Thesun is no longer upon the stream, but his rays slant through the foliageof the cotton-wood trees that fringe it, and here and there a yellowbeam is flung transversely on the water. The forest is dappled by thehigh tints of autumn. There are green leaves and red ones; some of agolden colour and others of dark maroon. Under this bright mosaic theriver winds away like a giant serpent, hiding its head in the darkerwoods around El Paso. 

We command a view of all this, for we are above the landscape. We seethe brown houses of the village, with the shining vane of its church. Our eyes have often rested upon that vane in happy hours, but nonehappier than now, for our hearts are full of happiness. 

We talk of the past as well as the present; for Zoe has now seensomething of life, its darker pictures it is true; but these are oftenthe most pleasant to be remembered; and her desert experience hasfurnished her with many a new thought--the cue to many an inquiry. 

The future becomes the subject of our converse. It is all bright, though a long and even perilous journey is before us. We think not ofthat. We look beyond it to that promised hour when I am to teach, andshe is to learn, what is "to marry. "

Someone is touching the strings of a bandolin. We look around. MadameSeguin is seated upon a bench, holding the instrument in her hands. Sheis tuning it. As yet she has not played. There has been no music sinceour return. 

It is by Seguin's request that the instrument has been brought up, withthe music, to chase away heavy memories; or, perhaps, from a hope thatit may soothe those savage ones still dwelling in the bosom of hischild. 

Madame Seguin is about to play, and my companion and I go nearer tolisten. 

Seguin and Saint Vrain are conversing apart. Adele is still seatedwhere we left her, silent and abstracted. 

The music commences. It is a merry air--a fandango: one of those towhich the Andalusian foot delights to keep time. 

Seguin and Saint Vrain have turned. We all stand looking in the face ofAdele. We endeavour to read its expression. 

The first notes have startled her from her attitude of abstraction. Hereyes wander from one to the other, from the instrument to the player, with looks of wonder--of inquiry. 

The music continues. The girl has risen, and, as it mechanically, approaches the bench where her mother is seated. She crouches down bythe feet of the latter, places her ear close up to the instrument, andlistens attentively. There is a singular expression upon her face. 

I look at Seguin. That upon his is not less singular. His eye is fixedupon the girl's, gazing with intensity. His lips are apart, yet heseems not to breathe. His arms hang neglected, and he is leaningforward as if to read the thoughts that are passing within her. 

He starts erect again, as though under the impulse of some suddenresolution. 

"Oh, Adele! Adele!" he cries, hurriedly addressing his wife; "oh, singthat song; that sweet hymn, you remember; you used to sing it to her--often, often. You remember it, Adele! Look at her. Quick! quick! OGod! Perhaps she may--"

He is interrupted by the music. The mother has caught his meaning, andwith the adroitness of a practised player, suddenly changes the tune toone of a far different character. I recognise the beautiful Spanishhymn, "La madre a su hija" (The mother to her child). She sings it, accompanying her voice with the bandolin. She throws all her energyinto the song until the strain seems inspired. She gives the words withfull and passionate effect--

 "Tu duermes, cara nina! Tu duertnes en la paz. Los angeles del cielo-- Los angeles guardan, guardan, Nina mia!--Ca--ra--mi--"

The song was interrupted by a cry--a cry of singular import--uttered bythe girl. The first words of the hymn had caused her to start, and thento listen, if possible, more attentively than ever. As the songproceeded, the singular expression we had noted seemed to become everymoment more marked and intense. When the voice had reached the burdenof the melody, a strange exclamation escaped her lips; and, springing toher feet, she stood gazing wildly in the face of the singer. Only for amoment. The next moment she cried in loud, passionate accents, "Mamma!mamma!" and fell forward upon the bosom of her mother!

Seguin spoke truly when he said, "Perhaps in God's mercy she may yetremember. " She had remembered--not only her mother, but in a short timeshe remembered him. The chords of memory had been touched, its gatesthrown open. She remembered the history of her childhood. Sheremembered all!

I will not essay to describe the scene that followed. I will notattempt to picture the expression of the actors; to speak of theirjoyous exclamations, mingled with sobs and tears; but they were tears ofjoy. 

All of us were happy--happy to exultation; but for Seguin himself, Iknew it was the hour of his life. 

C THE END.