The White Chief, A Legend of Northern Mexico, by Captain Mayne Reid. 

________________________________________________________________________An exciting and well-written book by Mayne Reid based on his experiencesduring the war between America and Mexico in the 1840s. Reid took thetitle of "Captain" because that was what his men called him during thatwar, although he was never promoted to that rank. 

The importance of Reid's books with this background is that they wereamong the first in the Wild West genre. 

________________________________________________________________________THE WHITE CHIEF, A LEGEND OF NORTHERN MEXICO, BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID. 

CHAPTER ONE. 

Deep in the interior of the American Continent--more than a thousandmiles from the shores of any sea--lies our scene. 

Climb with me yonder mountain, and let us look from its summit of snow. 

We have reached its highest ridge. What do we behold?

On the north a chaos of mountains, that continues on through thirtyparallels to the shores of the Arctic Sea! On the south, the samemountains, --here running in separate sierras, and there knotting witheach other. On the west, mountains again, profiled along the sky, andalternating with broad tables that stretch between their bases. 

Now turn we around, and look eastward. Not a mountain to be seen! Faras the eye can reach, and a thousand miles farther, not a mountain. Yonder dark line rising above the plain is but the rocky brow of anotherplain--a _steppe_ of higher elevation. 

Where are we? On what summit are we standing? On the Sierra Blanca, known to the hunter as the "Spanish Peaks. " We are upon the western rimof the _Grand Prairie_. 

Looking eastward, the eye discovers no signs of civilisation. There_are_ none within a month's journeying. North and south, --mountains, mountains. 

Westward, it is different. Through the telescope we can see cultivatedfields afar off, --a mere strip along the banks of a shining river. Those are the settlements of Nuevo Mexico, an oasis irrigated by the Riodel Norte. The scene of our story lies not there. 

Face once more to the eastward, and you have it before you. Themountain upon which we stand has its base upon a level plain thatexpands far to the east. There are no foot-hills. The plain and themountain touch, and at a single step you pass from the naked turf of theone to the rocky and pine-clad declivities of the other. 

The aspect of the plain is varied. In some places it is green, wherethe gramma-grass has formed a sward; but in most parts it is sterile asthe Sahara. Here it appears brown, where the sun-parched earth is bare;there it is of a sandy, yellowish hue; and yonder the salt effervescencerenders it as white as the snow upon which we stand. 

The scant vegetation clothes it not in a livery of verdure. The leavesof the agave are mottled with scarlet, and the dull green of the cactusis still further obscured by its thickly-set spines. The blades of theyuccas are dimmed by dust, and resemble clusters of half-rusty bayonets;and the low scrubby copses of acacia scarce offer a shade to the dusky_agama_ and the ground rattlesnake. Here and there a solitary palmetto, with branchless stem and tufted crown, gives an African aspect to thescene. The eye soon tires of a landscape where every object appearsangular and thorny; and upon this plain, not only are the trees of thatcharacter, but the plants, --even the _very_ grass carries its thorns!

With what sensations of pleasure we turn to gaze into a lovely valley, trending eastward from the base of the mountain! What a contrast to thearid plain! Its surface is covered with a carpet of bright green, enamelled by flowers that gleam like many-coloured gems; while thecotton-wood, the wild-china-tree, the live-oak, and the willow, mingletheir foliage in soft shady groves that seem to invite us. Let usdescend!

We have reached the plain, yet the valley is still far beneath us--athousand feet at the least--but, from a promontory of the bluffprojecting over it, we command a view of its entire surface to thedistance of many miles. It is a level like the plain above; and gazingdown upon it, one might fancy it a portion of the latter that had sunkinto the earth's crust, so as to come within the influence of afertilising power denied to the higher region. 

On both sides of it, far as the eye can reach, run the bordering cliffs, stepping from one level to the other, by a thousand feet sheer, and onlypassable at certain points. There is a width of ten miles from cliff tocliff; and these, of equal height, seem the counterparts of each other. Their grim savage fronts, overhanging the soft bright landscape of thevalley, suggest the idea of a beautiful picture framed in roughoak-work. 

A stream, like a silver serpent, bisects the valley--not running in astraight course, but in luxuriant windings, as though it loved to tarryin the midst of that bright scene. Its frequent curves and gentlecurrent show that it passes over a surface almost plane. Its banks aretimbered, but not continuously. Here the timber forms a wide belt, there only a fringe scarce shadowing the stream, and yonder the grassyturf can be distinguished running in to the very water's edge. 

Copse-like groves are scattered over the ground. These are of variedforms; some perfectly circular, others oblong or oval, and otherscurving like the cornucopias of our gardens. Detached trees meet theeye, whose full round tops show that Nature has had her will in theirdevelopment. The whole scene suggests the idea of some noble park, planted by design, with just timber enough to adorn the picture withoutconcealing its beauties. 

Is there no palace, no lordly mansion, to correspond? No. Nor palacenor cottage sends up its smoke. No human form appears within this wildparadise. Herds of deer roam over its surface, the stately elk reposeswithin the shade of its leafy groves, but no human being is there. Perhaps the foot of man never--

Stay! there is one by our side who tells a different tale. Hear him. 

"That is the valley of San Ildefonso. " Wild though it appears, it wasonce the abode of civilised man. Near its centre you may note someirregular masses scattered over the ground. But for the trees and rankweeds that cover them, you might there behold the ruins of a city. 

"Yes! on that spot once stood a town, large and prosperous. There was a_Presidio_ with the flag of Spain flying from its battlements; there wasa grand Mission-house of the Jesuit padres; and dwellings of rich minersand `hacendados' studded the valley far above and below. A busypopulace moved upon the scene; and all the passions of love and hate, ambition, avarice, and revenge, have had existence there. The heartsstirred by them are long since cold, and the actions to which they gavebirth are not chronicled by human pen. They live only in legends thatsound more like romance than real history. 

"And yet these legends are less than a century old! One century ago, from the summit of yonder mountain could have been seen, not only thesettlement of San Ildefonso, but a score of others--cities, and towns, and villages--where to-day the eye cannot trace a vestige ofcivilisation. Even the names of these cities are forgotten, and theirhistories buried among their ruins!

"The Indian has wreaked his revenge upon the murderers of Moctezuma!Had the Saxon permitted him to continue his war of retaliation, in onecentury more--nay, in half that time--the descendants of Cortez and hisconquerors would have disappeared from the land of Anahuac!

"Listen to the `Legend of San Ildefonso'!"

CHAPTER TWO. 

Perhaps in no country has religion so many devoted days as in Mexico. The "fiestas" are supposed to have a good effect in Christianising thenatives, and the saints' calendar has been considerably enlarged in thatpseudo-holy land. Nearly every week supplies a festival, with all itsmummery of banners, and processions, and priests dressed as if for thealtar-scene in "Pizarro, " and squibs, and fireworks, and silly citizenskneeling in the dust, and hats off all round. Very much like a LondonGuy-Fawkes procession is the whole affair, and of about like influenceupon the morals of the community. 

Of course the _padres_ do not get up these ceremonial exhibitions formere amusement--not they. There are various little "blessings, " and"indultos, " and sprinklings of sacred water, to be distributed on theseoccasions--not _gratuitously_--and the wretched believer is preciously"plucked" while he is in the penitent mood--at the same time he ispromised a short and easy route to heaven. 

As to any solemnity in the character of the ceremonials, there isnothing of the sort. They are in reality days of amusement; and it isnot uncommon to see the kneeling devotee struggling to keep down thecackle of his fighting-cock, which, full-galved, he carries under thefolds of his _serape_! All this under the roof of the sacred temple ofGod!

On days of fiesta, the church genuflexions are soon over; and then thegambling-booth, the race-course, bull-baiting, the cock-pit, and variousminor amusements, come into full operation. In all these you may meetthe robed priest of the morning, and stake your dollar or doubloonagainst his, if you feel so inclined. 

"San Juan" is one of the "_fiestas principales_"--one of the most notedof Mexican ceremonials. On this day--particularly in a _New_ Mexicanvillage--the houses are completely deserted. All people turn out, andproceed to some well-known locality, usually a neighbouring plain, towitness the sports--which consist of horse-racing, "tailing the bull, ""running the cock, " and the like. The intervals are filled up bygambling, smoking, and flirtation. 

There is much of republican equality exhibited on these occasions. Richand poor, high and low, mingle in the throng, and take part in theamusements of the day. 

It is the day of San Juan. A broad grassy plain lies just outside thetown of San Ildefonso, and upon this the citizens are assembled. It isthe scene of the festival, and the sports will soon begin. Before theydo, let us stroll through the crowd, and note its component parts. Allclasses of the community--in fact, all the community--appear to bepresent. There go the two stout _padres_ of the mission, bustling aboutin their long gowns of coarse serge, with bead-string and crucifixdangling to their knees, and scalp-lock close shaven. The Apache willfind no trophy on their crowns. 

There is the _cura_ of the town church, conspicuous in his long blackcloak, shovel hat, black silk stockings, pumps, and buckles. Nowsmiling benignly upon the crowd, now darting quick Jesuitical glancefrom his dark ill-meaning eyes, and now playing off his white jewelledfingers, as he assists some newly-arrived "senora" to climb to her seat. Great "ladies' men" are these same black-gowned bachelor-churchmen ofMexico. 

We have arrived in front of several rows of seats raised above oneanother. Let us observe who occupy them. At a glance it is apparentthey are in possession of the "_familias principales_, " the aristocracyof the settlement. Yes--there is the rich "_comerciante_, " Don JoseRincon, his fat wife, and four fat sleepy-looking daughters. There, too, is the wife and family of the "Alcalde, " and this magistratehimself with tasselled official staff; and the Echevarrias--prettycreatures that they think themselves--under care of their brother, thebeau, who has discarded the national costume for the _mode de Paris_!There is the rich "_hacendado_, " Senor Gomez del Monte, the owner ofcountless flocks and broad acres in the valley; and there are others ofhis class with their senoras and senoritas. And there, too, observed ofall, is the lovely Catalina de Cruces, the daughter of Don Ambrosio, thewealthy miner. He will be a lucky fellow who wins the smiles ofCatalina, or rather perhaps the good graces of her father--for DonAmbrosio will have much to say in the matter of her marriage. Indeed, it is rumoured that that matter is already arranged; and that CaptainRoblado, second in command at the Presidio, is the successful suitor. There stands he, in full moustache, covered with gold-lace, back andfront, and frowning fiercely on every one who dares to rest eye for amoment upon the fair Catalina. With all his gold-lace and gallantstrut, Catalina displays no great taste in her choice;--but is he herchoice? Maybe not--maybe he is the choice of Don Ambrosio; who, himselfof plebeian origin, is ambitious that his blood should be mingled withthat of the military hidalgo. The soldier has no money--beyond his pay;and that is mortgaged for months in advance; but he is a true_Gachupino_, of "blue blood, " a genuine "hijo de algo. " Not a singularambition of the old miser, nor uncommon among parvenus. 

Vizcarra, the Comandante, is on the ground--a tall colonel of forty--laced and plumed like a peacock. A lively bachelor is he; and whilechatting with padre, cura, or alcalde, his eye wanders to the faces ofthe pretty _poblanas_ that are passing the spot. These regard hissplendid uniform with astonishment, which he, fancying himself "Don JuanTenorio, " mistakes for admiration, and repays with a bland smile. 

There, too, is the third officer--there are but the three--the_teniente_, Garcia by name. He is better looking, and consequently moreof a favourite with both poblanas and rich senoritas, than either of hissuperiors. I wonder the fair Catalina does not give her preference tohim. Who can tell that she does not? A Mexican dame does not carry hersoul upon her sleeve, nor upon her tongue neither. 

It would be a task to tell of whom Catalina is thinking just now. It isnot likely at her age--she is twenty--that her heart is still her own;but whose? Roblado's? I would wager, no. Garcia's? That would be afairer bet. After all, there are many others--young "hacendados, "employes of the mines, and a few merchant dandies of the town. Herchoice may be some one of these. _Quien sabe_?

Let us on through the crowd!

We see the soldiers of the garrison, with tinkling spurs and longtrailing sabres, mingling fraternally with the serape-clad tradesmen, the _gambucinos_, and _rancheros_ of the valley. They imitate theirofficers in strut and swagger--the very character of which enables oneto tell that the military power is here in the ascendant. They are alldragoons--infantry would not avail against an Indian enemy--and theyfancy that the loud clinking of their spurs, and the rattle of theirsteel scabbards, add greatly to their importance. They have their eyesafter the poblanas, and the sweethearts of the poblanas keep their eyesafter them in a constant vigil of jealousy. 

The "poblanas" are the pretty girls of the place; but, pretty or plain, all the girls are out to-day in their best and gayest apparel. Somewear _enaguas_ of blue--others of scarlet--others of purple; and many ofthem tastefully flounced at the bottoms with a trimming of narrow lace. They wear the embroidered chemisette, with its snow-white frills, andthe blueish _reboso_, gracefully arranged, so as to conceal neck, bosom, arms, and, in some cases of coquetry, even the face! Ere night thisjealous garment will have lost half its prudery. Already the prettierfaces peep forth; and you may see, from the softness of the complexion, that they have been just washed free of the "allegria" that for the lasttwo weeks has rendered them hideous. 

The "rancheros" are in their full and beautiful costume--velveteentrousers, wide at the bottoms and open up the sides; _botas_ ofunstained leather; jackets of tanned sheepskin; or velveteen richlyembroidered; fancy-worked shirts underneath; and scarfs of rich red silkaround the waist. Over all the broad-brimmed _sombrero_, of blackglaze, with silver or gold band, and tags of the same, screwed into thecrown. Some have no jacket, but the serape, hanging negligently fromtheir shoulders, serves in place of one. All of these men have horseswith them; and on their feet may be seen spurs full five pounds inweight, with rowels three, four, and even five inches in diameter!

The "gambucinos, " and young men of the town, the smaller tradespeople, are very similarly attired; but those of higher class--the officials and"comerciantes"--are clad in broad-cloth jackets and pantaloons, notexactly of European cut, but approaching it--a sort of compromisebetween Paris fashions and the native costume of the country. 

Another costume may be noticed, worn by many of the crowd. This is thedress of the native "Pueblos", or _Indios mansos_--the poor labourers ofthe mines, and the neophytes of the mission. It is a simple dress, andconsists of an upper garment, the _tilma_, a sort of coat withoutsleeves. A coffee-sack with a hole ripped in the bottom for the head topass through, and a slit cut in each side for the arms, would make the"tilma. " It has no waist, and hangs nearly to the hips without otherfastening than the support at the shoulders. The tilma is usually apiece of coarse rug--a cheap woollen cloth of the country, called"gerga, " of a whitish colour, with a few dyed threads to give thesemblance of a pattern. This with a pair of dressed sheepskin breechesand rude sandals--_guaraches_--constitutes the wear of most of the"Indios mansos" of Mexico. The head is bare; and the legs, from theknee to the ankle, shine forth in all their copper-coloured nakedness. 

Of these dark aborigines--the "peons" of the mission and the mines--there are hundreds stalking about, while their wives and daughters sitsquatted upon the ground in rear of their _petates_; upon which arepiled the fruits of the soil--the _tunas, petahayas_, plums, apricots, grapes, _sandias_, and other species of melons, with roasted nuts of thepinon-tree, the produce of the neighbouring mountains. Others keepstands of _dulces_ and _agua-miel_ or _limonada_; while others sellsmall loaves--_piloncilios_--of corn-stalk sugar, or baked roots of theagave. Some squat before fires, and prepare _tortillas_ and _chileColorado_; or melt the sugared chocolate cake in their urn-like earthen_ollas_. From these humble "hucksters, " a hot peppery stew, a dish of_atole_, or a bowl of _pinole_, is to be had for a few _clacos_. Thereare other stands where you can buy cigarillos of _punche_, or a drink ofthe fiery _aguardiente_ from Taos or El Paso; and these stands arefavourite resorts of the thirsty miners and soldiers. There are no"booths, " but most of the hucksters protect themselves from the sun by ahuge screen of palmetto mat (_petate_) placed umbrella-like over theirheads. 

There is one class of persons yet to be spoken of--an important class atthe festival of San Juan--they who are to be competitors in the sports--the real wrestlers in the games. 

These are young men of all grades in society, and all of them mounted--of course, each in the best way he can. There they go, prancing overthe ground, causing their gaily caparisoned steeds to caper and curvet, especially in front of the tiers of seated senoritas. There are minersamong them, and young _hacendados_, and _rancheros_, and _vaqueros_, and_ciboleros_, and young merchants who ride well. Every one rides well inMexico--even the dwellers in cities are good horsemen. 

Nearly a hundred are there of these youths who intend to take part inthe various trials of skill in equitation. 

Let the sports begin!

CHAPTER THREE. 

The first exhibition on the programme was to be the _coleo de toros_, which may be rendered in English as "tailing the bull. " It is only inthe very large cities of Mexico where a regular _plaza de toros_, orarena for the bull-fight, is to be found; but in every tillage, howeverinsignificant, the spoil of bull-tailing may be witnessed, as this onlyrequires an open plain, and as wild a bull as can be procured. Thesport is not quite so exciting as the bull-fight, as it is less perilousto those engaged in it. Not unfrequently, however, a gored horse or amutilated rider is produced by the "coleo;" and fatal accidents haveoccurred at times. The horses, too, sometimes stumble, and both horseand rider are trampled by the others crowding from behind, so that inthe pellmell drive awkward accidents are anything but uncommon. Thecoleo is, therefore, a game of strength, courage, and skill; and toexcel in it is an object of high ambition among the youth of a NewMexican settlement. 

The arrangements having been completed, it was announced by a heraldthat the coleo was about to begin. These arrangements were simpleenough, and consisted in collecting the crowd to one side, so that thebull, when let loose, would have a clear track before him in thedirection of the open country. Should he not be allowed this favour hemight head _towards_ the crowd, --a thing to be apprehended. In fear ofthis, most of the women were to be seen mounting into the rude_carretas_, scores of which were upon the ground, having carried theirowners to the spectacle. Of course the senoras and senoritas on theraised benches felt secure. 

The competitors were now drawn up in a line. There were a dozendetailed for this first race, --young men of all classes, who were, orfancied themselves, "crack" riders. There were rancheros in theirpicturesque attire, smart arrieros, miners from the hills, townsmen, hacendados of the valley, vaqueros from the grazing-farms, andciboleros, whose home is for the most part on the wide prairies. Several dragoons, too, were arrayed with the rest, eager to prove theirsuperiority in the _manege_ of the horse. 

At a given signal the bull was brought forth from a neighbouring_corral_. He was not led by men afoot, --that would have been adangerous undertaking. His conductors were well-mounted vaqueros, who, with their lazoes around his horns, were ready, in case of his showingsymptoms of mutiny, to fling him to the earth by a jerk. 

A vicious-looking brute he appeared, with shaggy frontlet and scowlinglurid eye. It was _plain_ that it only needed a little goading to makehim a still more terrible object; for he already swept his tail angrilyagainst his flanks, tossed his long straight horns in the air, snortedsharply, and beat the turf at intervals with his hoofs. He wasevidently one of the fiercest of a fierce race--the race of Spanishbulls. 

Every eye was fixed upon him with interest, and the spectators freelycommented upon his qualities. Some thought him too fat, others allegedhe was just in the condition to make a good run--as, in the coleo, speed, not courage, is the desirable quality. This difference ofopinions led to the laying of numerous wagers on the result, --that is, the time that should elapse from the start until the bull should be"tailed" and "thrown. " The throwing of the bull, of course ends thechase. 

When it is considered that the brute selected is one of the strongest, swiftest, and fiercest of his kind, and that no weapon--not even thelazo--is allowed, it will be admitted this is a matter of no easyaccomplishment. The animal goes at full run, almost as fast as thehorse can gallop; and to bring him to the ground under thesecircumstances requires the performance of a feat, and one that demandsskill, strength, and the best of horsemanship. That feat is to seizethe bull by the tail, and jerk the animal off his legs!

The bull was led out some two hundred yards beyond the line of horsemen, where he was halted, with his head turned to the open plain. Thelazoes, that held him by a leash-knot, were then cautiously slipped, twoor three fire-squibs, pointed and barbed, were shot into his hips, andaway he went amidst the yells of the spectators!

Next moment the riders spurred after, each shouting in his own fashion. 

Soon the line was broken, and a confused spread of horsemen, like a"field" of fox-hunters, was seen scouring over the plain. Each momentthe troop became elongated, until what had started in line was nowstrung out in double and single file to a length of several hundredyards. Still on they went, whipping, and spurring, and urging theirsteeds to the utmost. 

The bull, maddened by the arrowy squibs, and terrified by their hissing, ran at the top of his speed in a nearly direct line. The start he hadbeen allowed was not so easily taken up, even by fast riders, and he hadgot a full mile or more before any one neared him. Then a dragoon, mounted on a large bay horse, was seen pressing him closely, and atlength laying hold of the tail. He was observed to give it a jerk ortwo, as though endeavouring to fling the brute by sheer strength. Itwas a failure, however; for the next moment the bull shot out in a sidedirection, and left his pursuer behind. 

A young hacendado, splendidly horsed, was next upon his flanks; but eachtime he reached forth to grasp the tail it was whisked beyond his reach. He succeeded at length in seizing it; but the bull, making a suddenlurch, whipped his tail from the rider's hands, and left him also in therear. 

One condition of the "coleo" was, that each competitor, after havingonce failed, should retire from the ground; so that the hacendado andthe dragoon were now actually _hors de chasse_. 

These were seen riding back, though not directly in front of thespectators. They preferred making a roundabout thing of it, so thattheir fallen faces might not be too closely scanned on their return. 

On went the bull, and after him the eager and excited horsemen. Anotherdragoon soon tried his "pluck, " and also failed; and then a vaquero, andanother horseman, and another, with like success--each failure beinghailed by a groan from the crowd. There were several tumbles, too, atwhich the spectators laughed heartily; and one horse was badly gored, having headed the bull and got entangled upon his horns. 

In less than ten minutes eleven out of the twelve competitors were seenreturning from the chase. 

Only one now remained to make his trial. The bull had proved a splendidfellow, and was already in high favour, and loudly applauded by thespectators. 

"_Bravo, toro! bravissimo_!" was heard on all sides. All eyes were nowturned upon the enraged animal, and his one remaining pursuer. Bothwere still near enough to be well observed, for the chase had ledhitherto, not in one line, but in different directions over the plain;so that the bull was actually no farther from the crowd than when firstovertaken by the dragoon. He was at this moment running in a crosscourse, so that every movement of both pursuer and pursued could be wellobserved from the stand. 

At the first glance it was plain that the bull had now behind him thehandsomest horse and horseman upon the field--would they prove the best?That was to be tried. 

The horse was a large coal-black _mustang_, with a long full tail, pointed at the tip, and carried like the brush of a running fox. Evenwhile in gallop, his neck slightly curved, and his proud figure, displayed against the smooth sward, called forth expressions ofadmiration. 

The rider was a young man of twenty or over; and his light curling hairand white-red complexion distinguished him from all his competitors--whowere, without exception, dark-skinned men. He was dressed in fullranchero costume, with its rich broidery and trappings; and instead ofthe usual "serape, " he wore a purple _manga_--a more graceful, as wellas costlier garment. The long skirts of this he had flung behind him, in order to have his arms free; and its folds, opening to the breeze, added to the gracefulness of his carriage in the saddle. 

The sudden appearance of this splendid horseman--for, hanging in therear with folded manga, he seemed not to have been noticed before, --caused unusual attention, and many were heard inquiring his name. 

"_Carlos the cibolero_!" cried a voice, loud enough to satisfy all atonce. 

Some evidently knew who "Carlos the cibolero" was, though by far thegreater number on the ground did not. Of the former, one was heardinquiring--

"Why hasn't he come up before?--He could have done so if he had wished. "

"_Carrambo_! yes, " added another. "He might have done so. He only hungback to give the others a trial. He knew none of them could throw_that_ bull. _Mira_!"

The speaker's conjecture was, no doubt, correct. 

It was plain, at first sight, that this rider could easily overtake thebull. His horse was still in a gentle gallop, and, though his ears wereset and his red nostrils staring open, it was only through theexcitement of the chase, and chafing at being hitherto checked. Thebridle-rein was, in fact, still tightly drawn. 

As the speaker uttered the cautionary phrase "_Mira_!" a change wassuddenly observed in the manner of the horseman. He was about twentypaces from the chase and directly in the rear. All at once his horsesprang forward at double his former speed, and in a few stretches laidhimself alongside the bull. The rider was observed to grasp the longoutstretched tail, and then lean forward and downward. The next momenthe raised himself with a sudden jerk, and the huge horned creatureturned sprawling upon his back. The whole thing seemed to cost him nomore effort than if the bull had been a tom-cat. Loud "_vivas_!" brokefrom the spectators, and the victorious horseman rode back in front ofthe stand, modestly bowed his thanks, and then retired into the depth ofthe crowd. 

There were not wanting those who fancied that in bowing the eyes of thecibolero were directed on the fair Catalina de Cruces; and some went sofar as to assert that she smiled and looked content; but that could notbe. The heiress of the rich Don Ambrosio smile to a compliment from acibolero!

There was one, however, who _did_ smile. That was a fair-haired, fair-skinned girl, who stood upon one of the carretas, by the side ofwhich the victor had placed himself. Side by side those two facesseemed one. They were of one blood, --one colour, --one race: were theynot brother and sister? Yes, --the fair girl was the sister of thecibolero. She was smiling from happiness at the thought of herbrother's triumph. 

A strange-looking woman was seated in the bottom of the carreta--an oldwoman, with long flowing hair, white as flax. She was silent, but hersharp eyes were bent upon the cibolero with a triumphant expression. Some regarded her with curiosity, but most with fear, akin to awe. These knew something of her, and whispered strange tales to one another. 

"_Esta una bruxa_!--_una hechicera_!" (She is a witch! a charmer!) saidthey. 

This they muttered in low tones lest they might be heard by Carlos orthe girl. _She was their mother_!

CHAPTER FOUR. 

The sports continue. The bull thrown by the cibolero, now cowed, walksmoodily across the plain. He would not serve for a second run, so he islazoed and led off, --to be delivered to the victor as his prize. 

A second is brought forth and started, with a fresh dozen of horsemen athis heels. 

These seem to be better matched, or rather the bull has not run off sowell, as all overtake him at once, riding past him in their headlongspeed. Most unexpectedly the animal turns in his tracks, and runs back, heading directly for the stand!

Loud screams are heard from the poblanas in the carretas--from thesenoras and senoritas. No wonder. In ten seconds the enraged brutewill be in their midst!

The pursuing horsemen are still far behind him. The sudden turning intheir headlong race threw them out of distance. Even the foremost ofthem cannot come up in time. 

The other horsemen are all dismounted. No man on foot will dare tocheck the onward rush of a goaded bull!

Confusion and loud shouting among the men, terror and screaming amongthe women, are the characteristics of the scene. Lives will be lost--perhaps many. None know but that they themselves may be the victims!

The strings of carretas filled with their terrified occupants flank thestand on each side; but, running farther out into the plain, form withit a sort of semicircle. The bull enters this semicircle, and guided bythe carretas rushes down, heading directly for the benches, as thoughdetermined to break through in that direction. The ladies have risen totheir feet, and, half-frantic, seem as though they would leap down uponthe very horns of the monster they dread! It is a fearful crisis forthem. 

Just at this moment a man is seen advancing, lazo in hand, in front ofthe carretas. He is afoot. As soon as he has detached himself from thecrowd, he spins the lazo round his head, and the noose shooting out isseen to settle over the horns of the bull. 

Without losing a moment the man runs to a small tree that stands nearthe centre of the semicircle, and hastily coils the other end of thelazo around its trunk. Another moment, and he would have been too late. 

The knot is scarcely tied, when a heavy pluck announces that the bullhas reached the end of his rope, and the foiled brute is now seen thrownback upon his hips, with the _lazo_ tightly noosed over his horns. Hehas fallen at the very feet of the spectators!

"_Bravo! viva_!" cried a hundred voices, as soon as their owners hadsufficiently recovered from their terror to call out. 

"_Viva. Viva_! Carlos the cibolero!"

It was he who had performed this second feat of skill and daring. 

The bull was not yet conquered, however. He was only confined within acertain range--the circle of the lazo--and, rising to his feet, with afurious roar he rushed forward at the crowd. Fortunately the lazo wasnot long enough to enable him to reach the spectators on either side;and again he tumbled back upon his haunches. There was a scattering onall sides, as it was feared he might still slip the noose; but thehorsemen had now come up. Fresh lazoes were wound about his neck, others tripped up his legs, and he was at length flung violently uponthe ground and his quarters well stretched. 

He was now completely conquered, and would run no more; and as but twobulls had been provided for the occasion, the "coleo de toros" was forthat day at an end. 

Several lesser feats of horsemanship were next exhibited, whilepreparations were being made for another of the grand games of the day. Those were by way of interlude, and were of various kinds. One wasthrowing the lazo upon the foot of a person running at full speed, noosing him around the ankle, and of course tripping him up. This wasdone by men both mounted and afoot; and so many accomplished it, that itcould hardly be deemed a "feat:" nor was it regarded as such among themore skilful, who disdained to take part in it. 

Picking up the hat was next exhibited. This consisted in the riderthrowing his hat upon the ground, and then recovering it from thesaddle, while his horse swept past at full gallop. Nearly every rideron the spot was equal to this feat, and only the younger ones lookedupon it as a proof of skill. Of these some twenty could now be seenwheeling about at a gallop and ducking down for their sombreros, whichthey had previously dropped. 

But it is not so easy to pick up smaller objects, and a piece of coinlying flat upon the ground tries the skill of the best "cavallero. "

The Comandante Vizcarra now stepped forth and commanded silence. Placing a Spanish dollar upon the smooth turf, he called out--

"This to the man who can take it up at the first trial. Five gold onzasthat Sergeant Gomez will perform the feat!"

There was silence for a while. Five gold "onzas" (doubloons) was alarge sum of money. Only a "rico" could afford to lose such a sum. 

After a pause, however, there came a reply. A young ranchero steppedforth:--

"Colonel Vizcarra, " said he, "I will not bet that Sergeant Gomez cannotperform the feat; but I'll wager there's another on the ground can do itas well as he. Double the amount if you please. "

"Name your man!" said Vizcarra. 

"Carlos the cibolero. "

"Enough--I accept your wager. Any one else may have their trial, "continued Vizcarra, addressing the crowd. "I shall replace the dollarwhenever it is taken up--only one attempt, remember!"

Several made the attempt and failed. Some touched the coin, and evendrew it from its position, but no one succeeded in lifting it. 

At length a dragoon mounted on a large bay appeared in the list, who wasrecognised as the Sergeant Gomez. He was the same that had first comeup with the bull, but failed to fling him; and no doubt that failuredwelling still in his thoughts added to the natural gloom of his verysallow face. He was a man of large size, unquestionably a good rider, but he lacked that symmetrical shape that gives promise of sinewyactivity. 

The feat required little preparation. The sergeant looked to hissaddle-girths, disencumbered himself of his sabre and belts, and thenset his steed in motion. 

In a few minutes he directed his horse so as to shave past the shiningcoin, and then, bending down, he tried to seize it. He succeeded inlifting it up from the ground; but, owing to the slight hold he hadtaken, it dropped from his fingers before he had got it to the height ofthe stirrup. 

A shout, half of applause and half of disapprobation, came from thecrowd. Most were disposed to favour him on Vizcarra's account. Notthat they loved Colonel Vizcarra, but they _feared_ him, and that madethem loyal. 

The cibolero now rode forth upon his shining black. All eyes wereturned upon him. His handsome face would have won admiration, but forits very _fairness_. Therein lay a secret prejudice. They knew _he wasnot of their race_!

Woman's heart has no prejudice, however; and along that line ofdark-eyed "doncellas" more than one pair of eyes were sparkling withadmiration for the blond "Americano, " for of such race was Carlos thecibolero. 

Other eyes than woman's looked favourably on the cibolero, and otherlips murmured applause. Among the half-brutalised Tagnos, with bentlimbs and downcast look, there were men who dreamt of days gone by; whoknew that their fathers were once free; who in their secret assembliesin mountain cave, or in the deep darkness of the "estufa, " still burnedthe "sacred fire" of the god Quetzalcoatl--still talked of Moctezuma andFreedom. 

These, though darker than all others, had no prejudice against the fairskin of Carlos. Even over their benighted minds the future had castsome rays of its light. A sort of mysterious presentiment, apparentlyinstinctive, existed among them, that their deliverers from the yoke ofSpanish tyranny would yet come from the East--from beyond the greatplains!

The cibolero scarce deigned to make any preparation. He did not evendivest himself of his manga, but only threw it carelessly back, and leftits long skirt trailing over the hips of his horse. 

Obedient to the voice of his rider, the animal sprang into a gallop; andthen, guided by the touch of the knees, he commenced circling round theplain, increasing his speed as he went. 

Having gained a wide reach, the rider directed his horse towards theglittering coin. When nearly over it he bent down from the saddle, caught the piece in his fingers, flung it up into the air, and then, suddenly checking his horse underneath, permitted it to drop into hisoutstretched palm!

All this was done with the ease and liability of a Hindoo juggler. Eventhe prejudiced could not restrain their applause; and loud _vivas_ for"Carlos the cibolero" again pealed upon the air. 

The sergeant was humiliated. He had for a long time been victor inthese sports--for Carlos had not been present until this day, or hadnever before taken part in them. Vizcarra was little better pleased. His favourite humbled--himself the loser of ten golden onzas--no smallsum, even to the Comandante of a frontier Presidio. Moreover, to bejibed by the fair senoritas for losing a wager he had himselfchallenged, and which, no doubt, he felt certain of winning. From thatmoment Vizcarra liked not "Carlos the cibolero. "

The next exhibition consisted in riding at full gallop to the edge of adeep "zequia" which passed near the spot. The object of this was toshow the courage and activity of the rider as well as the high trainingof the steed. 

The zequia--a canal used for irrigation--was of such width that a horsecould not well leap over it, and deep enough to render it no verypleasant matter for a horseman to get into. It therefore required bothskill and daring to accomplish the feat. The animal was to arrive uponthe bank of the canal in full run, and to be drawn up suddenly, so thathis four feet should rest upon the ground inside a certain line. Thisline was marked at less than two lengths of himself from the edge of thedrain. Of course the bank was quite firm, else the accomplishment ofsuch a feat would have been impossible. 

Many succeeded in doing it to perfection; and an admirable piece ofhorsemanship it was. The horse, suddenly checked in his impetuousgallop, upon the very brink of the zequia, and drawn back on hishaunches, with head erect, starting eyeballs, and open smoking nostrils, formed a noble picture to look upon. Several, however, by way ofcontrast, gave the crowd a ludicrous picture to laugh at. These wereeither faint-hearted riders, who stopped short before arriving near thebank, or bold but unskilful ones, who overshot the mark, and went plungeinto the deep muddy water. Either class of failure was hailed by groansand laughter, which the appearance of the half-drowned and drippingcavaliers, as they weltered out on the bank, rendered almost continuous. On the other hand, a well-executed manoeuvre elicited _vivas_ ofapplause. 

No wonder that, under such a system of training and emulation, thesepeople are the finest riders in the world, and such they certainly are. 

It was observed that Carlos the cibolero took no part in this game. What could be the reason? His friends alleged that he looked upon it asunworthy of him. He had already exhibited a skill in horsemanship of asuperior kind, and to take part in this would be seeking a superfluoustriumph. Such was in fact the feeling of Carlos. 

But the chagrined Comandante had other views. Captain Roblado as well--for the latter had seen, or fancied he had seen, a strange expression inthe eyes of Catalina at each fresh triumph of the cibolero. The two"militarios" had designs of their own. Base ones they were, andintended for the humiliation of Carlos. Approaching him, they inquiredwhy he had not attempted the last feat. 

"I did not think it worth while, " answered the cibolero, in a modesttone. 

"Ho!" cried Roblado, tauntingly; "my good fellow. You must have otherreasons than that. It is not so contemptible a feat to rein up on theedge of that `zanca. ' You fear a ducking, I fancy?"

This was uttered in a tone of banter, loud enough for all to hear; andCaptain Roblado wound up his speech with a jeering laugh. 

Now, it was just this ducking that the militarios wished to see. Theyhad conceived hopes, that, if Carlos attempted the feat, some accident, such as the slipping or stumbling of his horse, might lead to thatresult; which to them would have been as grateful as it would have beenmortifying to the cibolero. A man floundering out of a muddy ditch, anddrenched to the skin, however daring the attempt that led to it, wouldcut but a sorry figure in the eyes of a holiday crowd; and in such asituation did they wish to see Carlos placed. 

Whether the cibolero suspected their object did not appear. His replydoes not show. When it was heard, the "zequia" and its muddy water wereat once forgotten. A feat of greater interest occupied the attention ofthe spectators. 

CHAPTER FIVE. 

Carlos, seated in his saddle, was silent for a while. He seemed puzzledfor a reply. The manner of the two officers, as well as Roblado'sspeech, stung him. To have proceeded to the performance of this verycommon feat after all others had given over, merely on the banter ofRoblado and the Comandante, would have been vexatious enough; and yet torefuse it would lay him open to jeers and insinuations; and, perhaps, this was their design. 

He had reason to suspect some sinister motive. He knew something ofboth the men--of their public character--he could not otherwise, as theywere lords paramount of the place. But of their private character, too, he had some knowledge, and that was far from being to their credit. With regard to Roblado, the cibolero had particular reasons fordisliking _him_--very particular reasons; and but that the former wasstill ignorant of a certain fact, he had quite as good a reason forreciprocating the dislike. Up to this moment Roblado knew nothing ofthe cibolero, who for the most part of his time was absent from thevalley. Perhaps the officer had never encountered him before, or at allevents had never changed words with him. Carlos knew _him_ better; andlong ere this encounter, for reasons already hinted at, had regarded himwith dislike. 

This feeling was not lessened by the conduct of the officer on thepresent occasion. On the contrary, the haughty jeering tones fellbitterly upon the ear of the cibolero. He replied, at length, "CaptainRoblado, I have said it is not worth my while to perform what a_muchachito_ of ten years old would hardly deem a feat. I would notwrench my horse's mouth for such a pitiful exhibition as running him upon the edge of that harmless gutter; but if--"

"Well, if what?" eagerly inquired Roblado, taking advantage of thepause, and half suspecting Carlos' design. 

"If _you_ feel disposed to risk a doubloon--I am but a poor hunter, andcannot place more--I shall attempt what a muchachito of ten years_would_ consider a feat perhaps. "

"And what may that be, Senor Cibolero?" asked the officer, sneeringly. 

"I will check my horse at full gallop _on the brow of yonder cliff_!"

"Within two lengths from the brow?"

"Within two lengths--less--the same distance that is traced here on thebanks of the zequia!"

The surprise created by this announcement held the bystanders for somemoments in silence. It was a proposal of such wild and reckless daringthat it was difficult to believe that the maker of it was in earnest. Even the two officers were for a moment staggered by it, and inclined tofancy the cibolero was not serious but mocking them. 

The cliff to which Carlos had pointed was part of the bluff that hemmedin the valley. It was a sort of promontory, however, that jutted outfrom the general line, so as to be a conspicuous object from the plainbelow. Its brow was of equal height with the rest of the precipice, ofwhich it was a part--a sort of buttress--and the grassy turf thatappeared along its edge was but the continuation of the upper plateau. Its front to the valley was vertical, without terrace or ledge, althoughhorizontal seams traversing its face showed a stratification of lime andsandstone alternating with each other. From the sward upon the valleyto the brow above the height was one thousand feet sheer. To gaze up toit was a trial to delicate nerves--to look down put the stoutest to theproof. 

Such was the cliff upon whose edge the cibolero proposed to rein up hissteed. No wonder the proposal was received with a surprise that causeda momentary silence in the crowd. When that passed, voices were heardexclaiming, --"Impossible!"

"He is mad!"

"Pah! he's joking!"

"_Esta burlando los militarios_!" (He's mocking the military gents);and such-like expressions. 

Carlos sat playing with his bridle-rein, and waiting for a reply. 

He had not long to wait. Vizcarra and Roblado muttered some hasty wordsbetween themselves; and then, with an eagerness of manner, Roblado criedout--

"I accept the wager!"

"And I another onza!" added the Comandante. 

"Senores, " said Carlos, with an air of apparent regret, "I am sorry Icannot take both. This doubloon is all I have in the world; and it'snot likely I could borrow another just now. "

As he said this Carlos regarded the crowd with a smile, but many ofthese were in no humour for smiling. They were really awed by theterrible fate which they believed awaited the reckless cibolero. Avoice, however, answered him:--

"Twenty onzas, Carlos, for any other purpose. But I cannot encouragethis mad project. "

It was the young ranchero, his former backer, who spoke. 

"Thank you, Don Juan, " replied the cibolero. "I know you would lendthem. Thank you all the same. Do not fear! I'll win the onza. Ha!ha! ha! I haven't been twenty years in the saddle to be bantered by a_Gachupino_. "

"Sir!" thundered Vizcarra and Roblado in a breath, at the same timegrasping the hilts of their swords, and frowning in a fierce threateningmanner. 

"Oh! gentlemen, don't be offended, " said Carlos, half sneeringly. "Itonly slipped from my tongue. I meant no insult, I assure you. "

"Then keep your tongue behind your teeth, my good fellow, " threatenedVizcarra. "Another slip of the kind may cost you a fall. "

"Thank you, Senor Comandante, " replied Carlos, still laughing. "PerhapsI'll take your advice. "

The only rejoinder uttered by the Comandante was a fierce "Carrajo!"which Carlos did not notice; for at this moment his sister, having heardof his intention, sprang down from the carreta and came running forward, evidently in great distress. 

"Oh, brother Carlos!" she cried, reaching out her arms, and grasping himby the knees, "Is it true? Surely it is not true?"

"What, _hermanita_?" (little sister), he asked with a smile. 

"That you--"

She could utter no more, but turned her eyes, and pointed to the cliff. 

"Certainly, Rosita, and why not? For shame, girl! Don't be alarmed--there's nought to fear, I assure you--I've done the like before. "

"Dear, dear Carlos, I know you are a brave horseman--none braver--butoh! think of the danger--_Dios de mi alma_! think of--"

"Pshaw, sister! don't shame me before the people--come to mother!--hearwhat she will say. I warrant she won't regard it. " And, so saying, thecibolero rode up to the carreta, followed by his sister. 

Poor Rosita! Eyes gleamed upon you at that moment that saw you for thefirst time--eyes in whose dark orbs lay an expression that boded you nogood. Your fair form, the angelic beauty of your face--perhaps yourvery grief--awakened interest in a heart whose love never meant elsethan ruin to its object. It was the heart of Colonel Vizcarra. 

"_Mira_! Roblado!" muttered he to his subordinate and fellow-villain. "See yonder! _Santisima Virgen_! Saint Guadalupe! Look, man! Venus, as I'm a Christian and a soldier! In the name of all the saints, whatsky has she fallen from?"

"For _Dios_! I never saw her before, " replied the captain; "she must bethe sister of this fellow: yes--hear them! they address each other asbrother and sister! She _is_ pretty!"

"_Ay de mi_!" sighed the Comandante. "What a godsend! I was growingdull--very dull of this monotonous frontier life. With this newexcitement, perhaps, I may kill another month. Will she last me thatlong, think you?"

"Scarcely--if she come and go as easily as the rest. What! alreadytired of Inez?"

"Poh! poh! loved me too much; and that I can't bear. I would rather toolittle if anything. "

"Perhaps this blonde may please you better in that respect. But, see!they are off!"

As Roblado spoke, Carlos and his sister had moved forward to the carretawhich held their aged mother, and were soon in conversation with her. 

The Comandante and his captain, as well as a large number of thespectators, followed, and crowded around to listen. 

"She wants to persuade me against it, mother, " Carlos was heard to say. He had already communicated his design. "Without _your_ consent, I willnot. But hear me, dear mother; I have half pledged myself, and I wishto make good my pledge. It is a _point of honour_, mother. "

The last phrase was spoken loudly and emphatically in the ear of the oldwoman, who appeared to be a little deaf. 

"Who wants to dissuade you?" she asked, raising her head, and glancingupon the circle of faces. "Who?"

"Rosita, mother. "

"Let Rosita to her loom, and weave rebosos--that's what she's fit for. You, my son, can do great things--deeds, ay, deeds; else have you not inyour veins the blood of your father. _He_ did deeds--_he_--ha! ha! ha!"

The strange laugh caused the spectators to start, accompanied, as itwas, with the wild look of her who uttered it. 

"Go!" cried she, tossing back her long flax-coloured locks, and wavingher arms in the air--"go, Carlos the cibolero, and show the tawnycowards--slaves that they are--what a free American can do. To thecliff! to the cliff!"

As she uttered the awful command, she sank back into the carreta, andrelapsed into her former silence. 

Carlos interrogated her no further. The expressions she had let sliphad rendered him somewhat eager to close the conversation; for henoticed that they were not lost on several of the bystanders. Theofficers, as well as the priests and alcalde, exchanged significantglances while she was uttering them. 

Placing his sister once more in the carreta, and giving her a partingembrace, Carlos leaped to the back of his steed, and rode forth upon theplain. When at some distance he reined in, and bent his eyes for amoment upon the tiers of benches where sat the senoras and senoritas ofthe town. A commotion could be observed among them. They had heard ofthe intended feat, and many would have dissuaded the cibolero from theperilous attempt. 

There was one whose heart was full to bursting--full as that of Carlos'own sister; and yet she dared not show it to those around. She wasconstrained to sit in silent agony, and suffer. 

Carlos knew this. He drew a white handkerchief from his bosom, andwaved it in the air, as though bidding some one an adieu. Whether hewas answered could not be told; but the next moment he wheeled hishorse, and galloped off towards the cliffs. 

There were conjectures among the senoras and senoritas, among thepoblanas too, as to who was the recipient of that parting salute. Manyguesses were made, many names mentioned, and scandal ran the rounds. One only of all knew in her heart for whom the compliment was meant--inher heart overflowing with love and fear. 

CHAPTER SIX. 

All who had horses followed the cibolero, who now directed himselftowards a path that led from the valley to the table above. This pathwound up the cliffs by zigzag turnings, and was the only one by whichthe upper plain could be reached at that point. A corresponding roadtraversed the opposite bluff, so that the valley might be here crossed;and this was the only practicable crossing for several miles up anddown. 

Though but a thousand feet separated the valley and table-land, the pathleading from one to the other was nearly a mile in length; and as it wasseveral miles from the scene of the festival to the bottom of the cliff, only those accompanied Carlos who were mounted, with a few othersdetermined to witness every manoeuvre of this fearful attempt. Ofcourse, the officers were of the party who went up. The rest of thepeople remained in the valley, but moved forward in the direction of thecliffs, so that they would be able to observe the more interesting andthrilling part of the spectacle. 

For more than an hour those on the plain were kept waiting; but they didnot allow the time to pass unimproved. A _monte_ table had been spreadout over which both gold and silver changed hands rapidly, the twopadres of the mission being among the highest bettors; and the senoras, among themselves, had a quiet little game of their favourite _chuza_. A"main" between a pair of sturdy chanticleers, one belonging to thealcalde and the other to the _cura_ (!), furnished the interlude foranother half-hour. In this contest the representative of the Church wastriumphant. His grey cock ("pardo") killed the alcalde's red one at asingle blow, by striking one of his long steel galves through thelatter's head. This was regarded as a very interesting and pleasantspectacle by all on the ground--ladies included, and alcalde excepted. 

By the time the cock-fight was finished, the attention of the crowdbecame directed to the movements of the party who had gone up to theupper plain. These were now seen along the edge of the cliff, and bytheir manoeuvres it was evident they were engaged in arranging thepreliminaries of the perilous adventure. Let us join them. 

The cibolero, on gaining the ground, pointed out the spot where he hadproposed to execute his daring design. From the plain above the cliffswere not visible, and even the great abyss of the valley itself couldnot be seen a hundred paces back from the edge of the bluff. There wasno escarpment or slope of any kind. The turf ran in to the very edge ofthe precipice, and on the same level with the rest of the plain. It wassmooth and firm--covered with a short sward of _gramma_ grass. Therewas neither break nor pebble to endanger the hoof. No accident couldarise from that cause. 

The spot chosen, as already stated, was a sort of buttress-likepromontory that stood out from the line of bluffs. This formation wasmore conspicuous from below. Viewing it from above, it resembled atongue-like continuation of the plain. 

Carlos first rode out to its extremity, and carefully examined the turf. It was just of the proper firmness to preclude the possibility of ahorse's hoof either sliding or sinking into it. He was accompanied byVizcarra, Roblado, and others. Many approached the spot, but kept at asafe distance from the edge of the horrid steep. Though denizens ofthis land of grand geological features, there were many present whodreaded to stand upon the brow of that fearful ledge and look below. 

The cibolero sat upon his horse, on its very edge, as calm as if he hadbeen on the banks of the zequia, and directed the marking of the line. His horse showed no symptoms of nervousness. It was evident he waswell-trained to such situations. Now and then he stretched out hisneck, gazed down into the valley, and, recognising some of his kindbelow, uttered a shrill neigh. Carlos purposely kept him on the cliff, in order to accustom him to it before making the terrible trial. 

The line was soon traced, less than two lengths of the horse from thelast grass on the turf. Vizcarra and Roblado would have insisted uponshort measure; but their proposal to curtail it was received withmurmurs of disapprobation and mutterings of "Shame!"

What did these men want? Though not evident to the crowd, theycertainly desired the death of the cibolero. Both had their reasons. Both hated the man. The cause or causes of their hatred were of lategrowth, --with Roblado still later than his Comandante. He had observedsomething within the hour that had rendered him furious. He hadobserved the waving of that white kerchief; and as he stood by the standhe had seen to whom the "adios" was addressed. It had filled him withastonishment and indignation; and his language to Carlos had assumed abullying and brutal tone. 

Horrible as such a supposition may seem, both he and Vizcarra would haverejoiced to see the cibolero tumble over the bluff. Horrible indeed itseems; but such were the men, and the place, and the times, that thereis nothing improbable in it. On the contrary, cases of equalbarbarity--wishes and _acts_ still more inhuman--are by no means rareunder the skies of "Nuevo Mexico. "

The young ranchero, who had accompanied the party to the upper plain, insisted upon fair play. Though but a ranchero, he was classed amongthe "ricos, " and, being a fellow of spirit, urged Carlos' rights, evenin the face of the moustached and scowling militarios. 

"Here, Carlos!" cried he, while the arrangements were progressing; "Isee you are bent on this madness; and since I cannot turn you from it, Ishall not embarrass you. But you sha'n't risk yourself for such atrifle. My purse! bet what sum you will. "

As he said this, he held out a purse to the cibolero, which, from itsbulk, evidently contained a large, amount. 

Carlos regarded the purse for a moment without making answer. He wasevidently gratified by the noble offer. His countenance showed that hewas deeply touched by the kindness of the youth. "No, " said he, atlength; "no, Don Juan. I thank you with all my heart, but I cannot takeyour purse--one onza, nothing more. I should like to stake one againstthe Comandante. "

"As many as you please, " urged the ranchero. 

"Thank you, Don Juan! only one--that with my own will be two. --Twoonzas!--that, in faith, is the largest bet I have ever made. _Vaya_! apoor cibolero staking a double onza!"

"Well, then, " replied Don Juan, "if you don't, I shall. ColonelVizcarra!" said he aloud, addressing himself to the Comandante, "Isuppose you would like to win back your wager. Carlos will now takeyour bet for the onza, and I challenge you to place ten. "

"Agreed!" said the Comandante, stiffly. 

"Dare you double it?" inquired the ranchero. 

"Dare I, sir?" echoed the Colonel, indignant at being thus challenged inthe presence of the spectators. "Quadruple it, if you wish, sir. "

"Quadruple then!" retorted the other. "Forty onzas that Carlos performsthe feat!"

"Enough! deposit your stakes!"

The golden coins were counted out, and held by one of the bystanders, and judges were appointed. 

The arrangements having been completed, the spectators drew back uponthe plain, and left the cibolero in full possession of the promontory--alone with his horse. 

CHAPTER SEVEN. 

All stood watching him with interested eyes. Every movement was noted. 

He first alighted from the saddle, stripped off his manga, had itcarried back and placed out of the way. He next looked to his spurs, tosee that the straps were properly buckled. After this he re-tied hissash, and placed the sombrero firmly on his head. He buttoned hisvelveteen calzoneros down nearly to his ankles, so that their leathernbottoms might not flap open and discommode him. His hunting-knife alongwith his "whip" were sent back to the charge of Don Juan. 

His attention was next turned to his horse, that stood all this whilecurving his neck proudly as though he divined that he was to be calledupon for some signal service. The bridle was first scrutinised. Thegreat bit--a Mameluke--was carefully examined, lest there might be someflaw or crack in the steel. The head-strap was buckled to its propertightness, and then the reins were minutely scanned. These were of thehair of wild horses' tails closely and neatly plaited. Leather mightsnap, there was no fear of breaking such cords as these. 

The saddle now had its turn. Passing from side to side, Carlos triedboth stirrup-leathers, and examined the great wooden blocks which formedthe stirrups. The girth was the last as well as most important objectof his solicitude. He loosed the buckles on both sides, and thentightened them, using his knees to effect his purpose. When drawn tohis liking, the tip of the finger could not have been passed under thestrong leathern band. 

No wonder he observed all this caution. The snapping of a strap, or theslipping of a buckle, might have hurled him into eternity. 

Having satisfied himself that all was right, he gathered up the reins, and leaped lightly into the saddle. 

He first directed his horse at a walk along the cliff, and within a fewfeet of its edge. This was to strengthen the nerves both of himself andthe animal. Presently the walk became a trot, and then a gentle canter. Even this was an exhibition fearful to behold. To those regarding itfrom below it was a beautiful but terrible spectacle. 

After a while he headed back towards the plain, and then stretching intoa fair gallop--the gait in which he intended to approach the cliff--hesuddenly reined up again, so as to throw his horse nearly on his flanks. Again he resumed the same gallop and again reined up; and thismanoeuvre he repeated at least a dozen times, now with his horse's headturned towards the cliffs, and now in the direction of the plain. Ofcourse this gallop was far from being the full speed of the animal. That was not bargained for. To draw a horse up at race-course speedwithin two lengths of himself would be an utter impossibility, even bysacrificing the life of the animal. A shot passing through his heartwould not check a racer in so short a space. A fair gallop was all thatcould be expected under the circumstances, and the judges expressedthemselves satisfied with that which was exhibited before them. Carloshad put the question. 

At length he was seen to turn his horse towards the cliff, and take hisfirmest seat in the saddle. The determined glance of his eyes showedthat the moment had come for the final trial. 

A slight touch of the spur set the noble brute in motion, and in anothersecond he was in full gallop, and heading directly for the cliff!

The gaze of all was fixed with intense earnestness upon that recklesshorseman. Every heart heaved with emotion; and, beyond their quickbreathing, not an utterance escaped from the spectators. The onlysounds heard were the hoof-strokes of the horse as they rang back fromthe hard turf of the plain. 

The suspense was of short duration. Twenty strides brought horse andhorseman close to the verge, within half-a-dozen lengths. The reinstill hung loose--Carlos dared not tighten it--a touch he knew wouldbring his horse to a halt, and that before he had crossed the line wouldonly be a failure. 

Another leap, --another, --yet another! Ho! he is inside--Great God! Hewill be over!

Such exclamations rose from the spectators as they saw the horsemancross the line, still in a gallop; out the next moment a loud cheerbroke from both crowds, and the "vivas" of those in the valley wereanswered by similar shouts from those who witnessed the feat from above. 

Just as the horse appeared about to spring over the horrid brink, thereins were observed suddenly to tighten, the fore-hoofs became fixed andspread, and the hips of the noble animal rested upon the plain. He waspoised at scarce three feet distance from the edge of the cliff! Whilein this attitude the horseman raised his right hand, lifted hissombrero, and after waving it round returned it to his head!

A splendid picture from below. The dark forms of both horse and riderwere perceived as they drew up on the cliff, and the imposing andgraceful attitude was fully developed against the blue background of thesky. The arms, the limbs, the oval outlines of the steed, even the verytrappings, could be seen distinctly; and for the short period in whichthey were poised and motionless, the spectator might have fancied anequestrian statue of bronze, its pedestal the pinnacle of the cliff!

This period was but of a moment's duration, but, during its continuance, the loud "vivas" pealed upon the air. Those looking from below saw thehorseman suddenly wheel, and disappear beyond the brow-line of thebluff. 

The daring feat was ended and over; and hearts, but a moment agothrobbing wildly within tender bosoms, now returned to their soft andregular beating. 

CHAPTER EIGHT. 

When the cibolero returned to the plain, he was received with a freshburst of vivas, and kerchiefs were waved to greet him. One only caughthis eye, --but that was enough. He saw not the rest, nor cared to seethem. That little perfumed piece of cambric, with its lace border, wasto him an ensign of hope--a banner that would have beckoned him on toachieve deeds of still higher daring. He saw it held aloft by a smalljewelled hand, and waved in triumph for _him_. He was happy. 

He passed the stand, rode up to the carreta, and, dismounting, kissedhis mother and sister. He was followed by Don Juan, his backer;--andthere were those who noticed that the eyes of the blonde were not alwaysupon her brother: there was another on the ground who shared their kindglances, and that other was the young ranchero. No one, not even thedullest, could fail to notice that these kind glances were more thanrepaid. It was an affair of mutual and understood love, beyond a doubt. 

Though Don Juan was a rich young farmer, and by courtesy a "Don, " yet inrank he was but a degree above the cibolero--the degree which wealthconfers. He was not one of the high aristocracy of the place, --aboutthat he cared little; but he had the character of being a brave, spirited young fellow; and in time, if he desired it, might mingle withthe "sangre azul. " It was not likely he ever should--at least throughthe influence of marriage. Any one who was witness to the ardentglances exchanged between his eyes and those of the cibolero's sister, would prophesy with ease that Don Juan was not going to marry among thearistocracy. 

It was a happy little group around the carreta, and there was feasting, too, --dulces, and orgeat, and wine from El Taso of the best vintage. Don Juan was not afraid to spend money, and he had no reason on thatoccasion, with fifty onzas of clear gain in his pocket--a fact that byno means sat easily on the mind of the Comandante. 

The latter was observed, with a clouded countenance, strolling around, occasionally approaching the carreta, and glancing somewhat rudelytowards the group. His glances were, in fact, directed on Rosita, andthe consciousness of his almost despotic power rendered him careless ofconcealing his designs. His admiration was expressed in such a mannerthat many could perceive it. The poor girl's eyes fell timidly whenthey encountered his, and Don Juan, having noticed it, was not withoutfeelings of anger as well as uneasiness. He knew the character of theComandante, as well as the dangerous power with which he was armed. OLiberty! what a glorious thing art thou! How many hopes are blighted, how many loves crossed, and hearts crushed, in a land where thou artnot! where the myrmidons of tyranny have power to thwart the purpose ofa life, or arrest the natural flow of its affections!

Several games were yet carried on upon the plain, but they were withoutgeneral interest. The splendid feat of the cibolero had eclipsed alllesser exhibitions for the time; besides, a number of the head men wereout of humour. Vizcarra was sad, and Roblado savage--jealous ofCatalina. The alcalde and his assistant were in a vexed state, as bothhad bet heavy sums on the red cock. Both the padres had lost at_monte_, and they were no longer in a Christian spirit. The cura alonewas in good spirits, and ready to back the "pardo" for another main. 

The concluding game was at length heralded. It was to be the "_Correrel gallo_" (running the cock). As this is rather an exciting sport, the"_monte_" tables and other minor amusements were once more put aside;and all prepared to watch "el gallo. "

"Running the cock" is a New Mexican game in all its characteristics. Itis easily described. Thus: A cock is suspended by the limbs to ahorizontal branch, at just such a height that a mounted man may lay holdof his head and neck hanging downward. The bird is fastened in such amanner that a smart pluck will detach him from the tree; while, torender this the more difficult, both head and neck are well covered withsoap. The horseman must be in full gallop while passing under thebranch; and he who succeeds in plucking down the cock is pursued by allthe others, who endeavour to rob him of the prize. He has a fixed pointto run round, and his goal is the tree from which he started. Sometimeshe is over, taken before reaching this, the cock snatched from him, --or, as not infrequently happens, torn to pieces in the contest. Should hesucceed in getting back--still retaining the bird entire--he is thendeclared victor. The scene ends by his laying his prize at the feet ofhis mistress; and she--usually some pretty poblana--appears that sameevening at the fandango with the feathered trophy under her arm--thussignifying her appreciation of the compliment paid her, as well asgiving to the _fandangueros_ ocular proof of the fact that some skilfulhorseman is her admirer. It is a cruel sport, for it must be rememberedthat the poor cock who undergoes all this plucking and mangling is a_living bird_! It is doubtful whether a thought of the _cruelty_ everentered the mind of a New Mexican. If so, it must have been a NewMexican _woman_; for the humanity of these is in an inverse ratio tothat of their lords. For the women it may be urged that the sport is acustom of the country; and what country is without its cruel sports? Isit rational or consistent to weep over the sufferings of Chanticleer, while we ride gaily upon the heels of poor broken Reynard?

There are two modes of the "Correr el gallo. " The first has beendescribed. The second only differs from it in the fact that the cock, instead of being tied to a tree, is buried up to his shoulders in theearth. The horsemen, as before, pass in routine--each bending from hissaddle, and striving to pluck the bird out of the ground. For the restthe conditions are the same as before. 

The first cock was hung to a branch; and the competitors having takentheir places in a line, the game commenced. 

Several made the attempt, and actually seized the bird's head, but thesoap foiled them. 

The dragoon sergeant was once more a competitor; but whether his colonelmade any further bet upon him is not known. The Comandante had gambledenough for that day; and but for a little peculation which he enjoyedupon the mining "derechos, " and other little customs dues, he would havefelt his losses still more severely. Out of the derechos, however, heknew he could square himself at the expense of the vice-regalgovernment. 

The sergeant, who, as already stated, had the advantage of a tall figureand a tall horse, was able to get a full grasp at the neck of the bird;and being already provided, as was afterwards ascertained, with afistful of sand, he took the prize with him, and galloped off. 

But there were swifter horses than his on the ground; and before hecould double the turning-post he was overtaken by an active vaquero, andlost a wing of his bird. Another wing was plucked from him by a secondpursuer; and he returned to the tree with nothing but a fragment left!Of course he received neither _vivas_ nor cheers. 

Carlos the cibolero took no part in this contest. He knew that he hadwon glory enough for that day--that he had made both friends andenemies, and he did not desire to swell the list of either. Some of thebystanders, however, began to banter him, wishing, no doubt, to see himagain exhibit his fine horsemanship. He withstood this for some time, until two more cocks were plucked from the tree--the vaquero alreadyalluded to carrying one of them clear, and laying it at the feet of hissmiling sweetheart. 

A new thought seemed now to have entered the mind of Carlos, and he wasseen riding into the lists, evidently about to take part in the nextrace. 

"It will be some time before I can be present at another fiesta, "remarked he to Don Juan. "Day after to-morrow I start for the plains. So I'll take all the sport I can out of this one. "

An innovation was now introduced in the game. The bird was buried inthe ground; and its long neck and sharp-pointed bill showed that it wasno cock, but a snow-white "gruya, " one of the beautiful species ofherons common in these regions. Its fine tapering neck was not soiledwith soap, but left in its natural state. In this case the chances offailure lay in the fact that, loosely buried as it was, the gruya wouldnot allow its head to be approached by a hand, but jerked it from sideto side, thus rendering it no easy matter to get hold of it. 

The signal being given, away went the string of horsemen! Carlos wasamong the last, but on coming up he saw the white bending neck stillthere. His hand was too quick for the bird, and the next moment it wasdragged from the yielding sand, and flapping its snowy wings over thewithers of his horse. 

It required not only speed on the part of Carlos, but great adroitness, to pass the crowd of horsemen, who now rushed from all points tointercept him. Here he dashed forward--there reined up--anon wheeledround a rider, and passed behind him; and, after a dozen suchmanoeuvres, the black horse was seen shooting off towards theturning-post alone. This passed, he galloped back to the goal, andholding up his prize, unstained and intact, received the applause of thespectators. 

There was a good deal of guessing and wondering as to who would be therecipient of the trophy. Some girl of his own rank, conjectured thecrowd; some poblana or ranchero's daughter. The cibolero did not seemin haste to gratify their curiosity; but, after a few minutes, heastonished them all, by flinging the gruya into the air, and sufferingit to fly off. The bird rose majestically upward, and then, drawing inits long neck, was seen winging its way toward the lower end of thevalley. 

It was observed that before parting with the bird Carlos had pluckedfrom its shoulders the long gossamer-like feathers that distinguish theheron species. These he was tying into a plume. 

Having accomplished this, he put spurs to his horse, and, galloping upto the front of the stand, he bent gracefully forward, and deposited thetrophy at the feet of _Catalina de Cruces_!

A murmur of surprise ran through the crowd, and sharp censure followedfast. What! a cibolero, --a poor devil, of whom nothing was known, aspire to the smiles of a rico's daughter? It was not a compliment. Itwas an insult! Presumption intolerable!

And these critiques were not confined to the senoras and senoritas. Thepoblanas and rancheros were as bitter as they. These felt themselvesslighted--passed by--regularly jilted--by one of their own class. Catalina de Cruces, indeed!

Catalina--her situation was pleasant, yet painful--painful, becauseembarrassing. She smiled, then blushed, uttered a soft "_Gracias, cavallero_!" yet hesitated a moment whether to take up the trophy. Ascowling father had started to his feet on one side, on the other ascowling lover. The last was Roblado. 

"Insolent!" cried he, seizing the plume, and flinging it to the earth;"insolent!"

Carlos bent down from his saddle, once more laid hold of the plume, andstuck it under the gold band of his hat. Then, turning a defiant glanceupon the officer, he said, "Don't lose your temper, Captain Roblado. Ajealous lover makes but an indifferent husband. " And transferring hislook to Catalina, he added with a smile, and in a changed tone, "Gracias, senorita!"

As he said this he doffed his sombrero, and, waving it gracefully, turned his horse and rode off. 

Roblado half drew his sword, and his loud "Carrajo!" along with themuttered imprecations of Don Ambrosio, reached the ears of the cibolero. But the captain was far from brave, with all his swagger; and seeingthe long _machete_ of the horseman strapped over his hips, he vented hisspite in threats only, and suffered Carlos to depart. 

The incident had created no small excitement, and a good deal of angryfeeling. The cibolero had roused the indignation of the aristocracy, and the jealousy and envy of the democracy; so that, after all hisbrilliant performances, he was likely to leave the field anything but afavourite. The wild words of his strange old mother had been widelyreported, and national hatred was aroused, so that his skill calledforth envy instead of admiration. An angel indeed, should he have beento have won friendship there--he an Americano--a "heretico"--for in thisfar corner of the earth fanaticism was as fierce as in the Seven-hilledCity itself during the gloomiest days of the Inquisition!

Mayhap it was as well for Carlos that the sports were now ended, and thefiesta about to close. 

In a few minutes the company began to move off. The mules, oxen, andasses, were yoked to the carretas--the rancheros and rancheras climbedinside the deep boxes; and then, what with the cracking of quirts, theshouts of drivers, and the hideous screaming of the ungreased axles, aconcert of sounds arose that would have astonished any human being, except a born native of the soil. 

In half-an-hour the ground was clear, and the lean coyote might be seenskulking over the spot in search of a morsel for his hungry maw. 

CHAPTER NINE. 

Though the field-sports were over, the fiesta of San Juan was not yetended. There were still many sights to be seen before the crowdscattered to their homes. There was to be another turn at the church--another sale of "indultos, " beads, and relics, --another sprinkling ofsacred water, in order that the coffers of the padres might bereplenished toward a fresh bout at the _monte_ table. Then there was anevening procession of the Saint of the day (John), whose image, set upona platform, was carried about the town, until the five or six fellowswho bore the load were seen to perspire freely under its weight. 

The Saint himself was a curiosity. A large wax and plaster doll, dressed in faded silk that had once been yellow, and stuck all over withfeathers and tinsel. A Catholic image Indianised, for the Mexicandivinities were as much Indian as Roman. He appeared bored of thebusiness, as, the joinings between head and neck having partially givenway, the former drooped over and nodded to the crowd as the image wasmoved along. This nodding, however, which would have been laughed at assupremely ridiculous in any other than a priest-ridden country, was hereregarded in a different light. The padres did not fail to put theirinterpretation upon it, pointing it out to their devout followers as amark of condescension on the part of the Saint, who, in thus bowing tothe crowd, was expressing his approbation of their proceedings. It was, in fact, a regular miracle. So alleged both padres and cura, and whowas there to contradict them? It would have been a dangerous matter tohave said nay. In San Ildefonso no man dared to disbelieve the word ofthe Church. The miracle worked well. The religious enthusiasm boiledup; and when Saint John was returned to his niche, and the little"cofre" placed in front of him, many a "peseta", "real, " and"cuartillo, " were dropped in, which would otherwise have been depositedthat night in the _monte_ bank. Nodding Saints and "winking Madonnas"are by no means a novel contrivance of the Holy Church. The padres ofits Mexican branch have had their wonderful saints too; and even in thealmost _terra ignota_ of New Mexico can be found a few of them that haveperformed as _smart_ miracles as any recorded in the whole jugglery ofthe race. 

A pyrotechnic display followed--and no mean exhibition of the sortneither--for in this "art" the New Mexicans are adepts. A fondness for"fireworks" is a singular but sure characteristic of a declining nation. 

Give me the statistics of pyrotechnic powder burnt by a people, and Ishall tell you the standard measure of their souls and bodies. If thefigure be a maximum, then the physical and moral measure will be theminimum, for the ratio is inverse. 

I stood in the Place de Concorde, and saw a whole nation--its rich andits poor--gazing on one of these pitiful spectacles, got up for thepurpose of duping them into contentment. It was the price paid them forparting with their liberty, as a child parts with a valuable gem for afew sugar-plums. They were gazing with a delight that seemedenthusiasm! I looked upon scrubby, stunted forms, a foot shorter thanwere their ancestors. I looked upon eyes that gleamed with demoralisedthought. 

These were the representatives of a once great people, and who stilldeem themselves the first of mankind. I felt sure that this was anillusion. The pyro-spectacle and its reception convinced me that I sawbefore me a people who had passed the culminating point of theirgreatness, and were now gliding rapidly down the declining slope thatleads to annihilation and nothingness. 

After the fireworks came the "fandango. " There we meet the same faces, without much alteration in the costumes. The senoras and senoritasalone have doffed their morning dresses, and here and there a prettypoblana has changed her coarse woollen "nagua" for a gay flouncedmuslin. 

The ball was held in the large saloon of the "Casa de Cabildo, " whichoccupied one side of the "Plaza. " On this festival day there was noexclusiveness. In the frontier towns of Mexico not much at any time, for, notwithstanding the distinctions of class, and the domineeringtyranny of the government authorities, in matters of mere amusementthere is a sort of democratic equality, a mingling of high and low, thatin other countries is rare. English, and even American travellers, haveobserved this with astonishment. 

All were admitted to the "Salon de baile" who chose to pay for it; andalongside the rico in fine broad-cloth you might see the ranchero in hisleathern jacket and velveteen calzoneros; while the daughter of the richcomerciante danced in the same set with the "aldeana, " whose time wastaken up in kneading tortillas or weaving rebosos!

The Comandante with Roblado and the lieutenant figured at the fandangoin full uniform. The alcalde was there with his gold-headed cane andtassel; the _cura_ in his shovel hat; the padres in their swingingrobes; and all the "familias principales" of the place. 

There was the rich comerciante, Don Jose Rincon, with his fat wife andfour fat sleepy-looking daughters--there, too, the wife and family ofthe alcalde--there the Echevarrias, with their brother the "beau" infull Paris costume, with dress coat and crush hat--the only one to beseen in the saloon. There, too, the rich hacendado, Senor Gomez delMonte, with his lean wife and several rather lean daughters--differingin that respect from the hundreds of kine that roam over the pastures ofhis "ganada. " And there, too, observed of all, was the lovely Catalinade Graces, the daughter of the wealthy miner Don Ambrosio, who himselfis by her side, keeping a watchful eye upon her. 

Besides these grand people there were employes of the mines of lessnote, clerks of the comerciantes, young farmers of the valley, gambucinos, vaqueros, ciboleros, and even "_leperos_" of the town, shrouded in their cheap serapes. A motley throng was the fandango. 

The music consisted of a bandolon, a harp, and fiddle, and the danceswere the waltz, the _bolero_, and the _coona_. It is but just to saythat finer dancing could not have been witnessed in the saloons ofParis. Even the peon, in his leathern spencer and calzoneros, moved asgracefully as a professor of the art; and the poblanas, in their shortskirts and gay coloured slippers, swept over the floor like so manycoryphees of the ballet. 

Roblado, as usual, was pressing his attentions on Catalina, and dancedalmost every set with her; but her eye wandered from his gold epaulettesand seemed to search the room for some other object. She was evidentlyindifferent to the remarks of her partner, and tired of his company. 

Vizcarra's eyes were also in search of some one that did not appear tobe present, for the Comandante strolled to and fro, peering into everygroup and corner with a dissatisfied look. 

If it was the fair blonde he was looking for, he would be unsuccessful. She was not there. Rosita and her mother had returned home after theexhibition of the fireworks. Their house was far down the valley, andthey had gone to it, accompanied by Carlos and the young ranchero. These, however, had returned to be present at the fandango. It was latebefore they made their appearance, the road having detained them. Thiswas why the eye of Catalina wandered. Unlike Vizcarra, however, she wasnot to meet with disappointment. 

While the dance was going on two young men entered the saloon, and soonmingled with the company. One of them was the young ranchero, the otherwas Carlos. The latter might easily have been distinguished by theheron-plume that waved over his black sombrero. 

The eye of Catalina was no longer restless. It was now directed upon anobject, though its glances were not fixed, but quick and stolen--stolen, because of the observation of an angry father and a jealous lover. 

Carlos assumed indifference, though his heart was burning. What wouldhe not have given to have danced with her? But he knew the situationtoo well. He knew that the offer of such a thing would lead to a scene. He dared not propose it. 

At times he fancied that she had ceased to regard him--that she evenlistened with interest to Roblado--to the beau Echevarria--to others. This was but Catalina's fine acting. It was meant for other eyes thanthose of Carlos, but he knew not that, and became piqued. 

He grew restless, and danced. He chose for his partner a very pretty"aldeana, " Inez Gonzales by name, who was delighted to dance with him. Catalina saw this, and became jealous in turn. 

This play continued for a length of time, but Carlos at length grewtired of his partner, and sat down upon the _banqueta_ alone. His eyesfollowed the movements of Catalina. He saw that hers were bent upon himwith glances of love, --love that had been avowed in words, --yes, hadalready been plighted upon oath. Why should they suspect each other?

The confidence of both hearts was restored; and now the excitement ofthe dance, and the less zealous guardianship of Don Ambrosio, half drunkwith wine, gave confidence to their eyes, and they gazed more boldly andfrequently at one another. 

The ring of dancers whirling round the room passed close to where Carlossat. It was a waltz. Catalina was waltzing with the beau Echevarria. At each circle her face was towards Carlos, and then their eyes met. Inthese transient but oft-recurring glances the eyes of a Spanish maidwill speak volumes, and Carlos was reading in those of Catalina apleasant tale. As she came round the room for the third time, henoticed something held between her fingers, which rested over theshoulder of her partner. It was a sprig with leaves of a dark greenishhue. When passing close to him, the sprig, dexterously detached, fellupon his knees, while he could just bear, uttered in a soft whisper, theword--"_Tuya_!"

Carlos caught the sprig, which was a branch of "tuya, " or cedar. Hewell understood its significance; and after pressing it to his lips, hepassed it through the button-hole of his embroidered "jaqueta. " AsCatalina came round again, the glances exchanged between them were thoseof mutual and confiding love. 

The night wore on--Don Ambrosio at length became sleepy, and carried offhis daughter, escorted by Roblado. 

Soon after most of the ricos and fashionables left the saloon, but sometireless votaries of Terpsichore still lingered until the rosy Aurorapeeped through the "rejas" of the Casa de Cabildo. 

CHAPTER TEN. 

The "Llano Estacado, " or "Staked Plain" of the hunters, is one of themost singular formations of the Great American Prairie. It is atable-land, or "steppe, " rising above the regions around it to a heightof nearly one thousand feet, and of an oblong or leg-of-mutton form, trending from north to south. 

It is four hundred miles in length, and at its widest part between twoand three hundred. Its superficial area is about equal to the island ofIreland. Its surface aspect differs considerably from the rest ofprairie-land, nor is it of uniform appearance in every part. Itsnorthern division consists of an arid steppe, sometimes treeless, for anextent of fifty miles, and sometimes having a stunted covering ofmezquite (_acacia_), of which there are two distinct species. Thissteppe is in several places rent by chasms a thousand feet in depth, andwalled in on both sides by rugged impassable precipices. Vast masses ofshapeless rocks lie along the beds of these great clefts, and pools ofwater appear at long intervals, while stunted cedars grow among therocks, or cling from the seams of the cliffs. 

Such chasms, called "canons, " can only be crossed, or even entered, atcertain points; and these passes are frequently a score of miles distantfrom each other. 

On the upper plain the surface is often a dead level for a hundredmiles, and as firm as a macadamised road. There are spots covered witha turf of grass of the varieties known as gramma, buffalo, and mezquite;and sometimes the traveller encounters a region where shallow ponds ofdifferent sizes stud the plain--a few being permanent, and surrounded bysedge. Most of these ponds are more or less brackish, some sulphurous, and others perfectly salt. After heavy rains such aqueous deposits aremore numerous, and their waters sweeter; but rain seems to fall byaccident over this desolate region, and after long spells of drought thegreater number of these ponds disappear altogether. 

Towards the southern end of the Llano Estacado the surface exhibits avery singular phenomenon--a belt of sand-hills, nearly twenty miles inbreadth and full fifty in length, stretching north and south upon theplain. These hills are of pure white sand, thrown up in ridges, andsometimes in cones, to the height of a hundred feet, and without tree, bush, or shrub, to break their soft outlines, or the uniformity of theircolour. But the greatest anomaly of this geological puzzle is, thatwater-ponds are found in their very midst--even among their highestridges--and this water not occasional, as from rains, but lying in"lagunas, " with reeds, rushes, and _nymphae_ growing in them, to attestthat the water is permanent! The very last place where water might beexpected to make a lodgment. 

Such formations of drift-sand are common upon the shores of the MexicanGulf, as well as on European coasts, and there their existence is easilyexplained; but here, in the very heart of a continent, it cannot beregarded as less than a singular phenomenon. 

This sand-belt is passable at one or two points, but horses sink to theknees at every step, and but for the water it would be a perilousexperiment to cross it. 

Where is the Llano Estacado? Unroll your map of North America. Youwill perceive a large river called the Canadian rising in the RockyMountains, and running, first southerly, and then east, until it becomespart of the Arkansas. As this river bends eastwardly, it brushes thenorthern end of the Llano Estacado, whose bluffs sometimes approachclose to its banks, and at other times are seen far off, resembling arange of mountains--for which they have been frequently mistaken bytravellers. 

The boundary of the west side of the "Staked Plain" is more definite. Near the head-waters of the Canadian another large river has its source. This the Pecos. Its course, you will observe, is nearly south, butyour map is not correct, as for several hundred miles the Pecos runswithin a few degrees of east. It afterwards takes a southerlydirection, before it reaches its embouchure in the Rio Grande. Now thePecos washes the whole western base of the Llano Estacado; and it isthis very plain, elevated as it is, that turns the Pecos into itssoutherly course, instead of leaving it to flow eastward, like all theother prairie-streams that head in the Rocky Mountains. 

The eastern boundary of the Llano Estacado is not so definitely marked, but a line of some three hundred miles from the Pecos, and cutting thehead-waters of the Wichita, the Louisiana Bed, the Brazos, and Colorado, will give some idea of its outline. These rivers, and their numeroustributaries, all head in the eastern "ceja" (brow) of the Staked Plain, which is cut and channelled by their streams into tracts of the mostrugged and fantastic forms. 

At the south the Llano Estacado tapers to a point, declining into themezquite plains and valleys of numerous small streams that debouch intothe Lower Rio Grande. 

This singular tract is without one fixed dweller; even the Indian nevermakes abode upon it beyond the few hours necessary to rest from hisjourney, and there are parts where he--inured as he is to hunger andthirst--dare not venture to cross it. So perilous is the "Jornada, " orcrossing of the Llano Estacado, that throughout all its length of fourhundred miles there are only two places where travellers can effect itin safety! The danger springs from the want of water, for there arespots of grass in abundance; but even on the well-known routes thereare, at certain seasons, stretches of sixty and eighty miles where not adrop of water is to be procured!

In earlier times one of these routes was known as the "Spanish Trail, "from Santa Fe to San Antonio de Bexar, of Texas; and lest travellersshould lose their way, several points were marked with "palos, " orstakes. Hence the name it has received. 

The Llano Estacado is now rarely travelled, except by the ciboleros, orMexican buffalo-hunters, and "Comancheros, " or Indian traders. Partiesof these cross it from the settlements of New Mexico, for the purpose ofhunting the buffalo, and trafficking with the Indian tribes that roamover the plains to the east. Neither the hunt nor the traffic is of anygreat importance, but it satisfies a singular race of men, whom chanceor inclination has led to the adopting it as a means of subsistence. 

These men are to the Mexican frontier pretty much what the hunter andbackwoodsman are upon the borders of the Anglo-American settlements. They are, however, in many respects different from the latter--in armsand equipments, modes of hunting, and otherwise. The outfit of acibolero, who is usually also a _coureur de bois_, is very simple. Forhunting, he is mounted on a tolerable--sometimes a fine--horse and armedwith a bow and arrows, a hunting-knife, and a long lance. Of fire-armshe knows and cares nothing--though there are exceptional cases. A lazois an important part of his equipment. For trading, his stock of goodsis very limited--often not costing him twenty dollars! A few bags ofcoarse bread (an article of food which the prairie Indians are fond of), a sack of "pinole, " some baubles for Indian ornament, some coarseserapes, and pieces of high-coloured woollen stuffs, woven at home:these constitute his "invoice. " Hardware goods he does not furnish toany great extent. These stand him too high in his own market, as theyreach it only after long carriage and scandalous imposts. Fire-arms hehas nothing to do with: such prairie Indians as use these are furnishedfrom the eastern side; but many Spanish pieces--fusils and escopettes--have got into the hands of the Comanches through their forays upon theMexican towns of the south. 

In return for his outlay and perilous journey, the cibolero carries backdried buffalo-flesh and hides--some the produce of his own hunting, someprocured by barter from the Indians. 

Horses, mules, and asses, are also articles of exchange. Of these theprairie Indians possess vast herds--some individuals owning hundreds;and most of them with Mexican brands! In other words, they have beenstolen from the towns of the _Lower_ Rio Grande, to be sold to the townsof the _Upper_ Rio Grande, and the trade is deemed perfectlylegitimate, --at least, there is no help for it as the case stands. 

The cibolero goes forth on the plains with a rare escort. Sometimes alarge number of these men, taking their wives and families with them, travel together just like a tribe of wild Indians. Generally, however, one or two leaders, with their servants and equipage, form theexpedition. They experience less molestation from the savages thanordinary travellers. The Comanches and other tribes know their object, and rather encourage them to come amongst them. Notwithstanding, theyare often cheated and ill-used by these double-faced dealers. Theirmode of transport is the pack-mule, and the "carreta" drawn by mules oroxen. The carreta is of itself a picture of primitive locomotion. Apair of block-wheels, cut out of a cotton-wood tree, are joined by astout wooden axle. The wheels usually approach nearer to the oval, orsquare, than the circular form. A long tongue leads out from theaxle-tree, and upon top of this a square, deep, box-like body is placed. To this two or more pairs of oxen are attached in the most simplemanner--by lashing a cross-piece of wood to their horns which hasalready been made fast to the tongue. The animals have neither yoke norharness, and the forward push of the head is the motive power by whichthe carreta is propelled. Once in motion, the noise of the wooden axleis such as to defy description. The cries of a whole family, withchildren of all sizes, in bitter agony, can alone represent the concertof terrible sounds; and we must go to South Mexico to find its horridequal in a troop of howling monkeys. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN. 

About a week after the fiesta of Saint John, a small party of ciboleroswas seen crossing the Pecos, at the ford of the "Bosque Redondo. " Theparty was only five in number, and consisted of a white man, ahalf-blood, and three pure-bred Indians, having with them a small_atajo_ of pack-mules, and three ox-team carretas. The crouching trotof the Indians, as well as their tilma dresses and sandalled feet, showed that they were "Indios mansos. " They were, in fact, the hired_peons_ of Carlos the cibolero--the white man, and chief of the party. 

The half-blood--Antonio by name--was "arriero" of the mule-train, whilethe three Indians drove the ox-teams, guiding them across the ford withtheir long goads. Carlos himself was mounted upon his fine black horse, and, muffled in a strong serape, rode in front to pilot the way. Hisbeautiful manga had been left behind, partly to save it from the roughwear of such an expedition, and also that it might not excite thecupidity of the prairie Indians, who, for such a brilliant mantle as itwas, would not hesitate to take his scalp. Besides the manga, theembroidered jacket, the scarlet scarf, and velveteen calzoneros, had allbeen put off, and others of a coarser kind were now worn in their place. 

This was an important expedition for Carlos. He carried with him thelargest freight he had ever taken upon the prairies. Besides the threecarretas with four oxen each, the atajo consisted of five pack-mules, all loaded with merchandise--the carretas with bread, pinole, Spanishbeans, Chile peppers; and the packs were made up of serape blankets, coarse woollen cloth, and a few showy trinkets, as also some Spanishknives, with their pointed triangular blades. It was his bold luck onthe day of the fiesta that had enabled him to provide such a stock. Inaddition to his own original onza and the two he had won, the youngranchero, Don Juan, had insisted upon his accepting the loan of fiveothers towards an outfit for this expedition. 

The little troop, having safely forded the Pecos, headed towards the"ceja" of the Llano Estacado, that was not far distant from the crossingof Bosque Redondo. A sloping ravine brought them to the top of the"mesa, " where a firm level road lay before them--a smooth plain withoutbreak or bush to guide them on their course. 

But the cibolero needed no guide. No man knew the Staked Plain betterthan he; and, setting his horse's head in a direction a little south ofeast, the train moved on. He was striking for one of the head branchesof the Red River of Louisiana, where he had heard that for severalseasons past the buffalo had appeared in great numbers. It was a newroute for him--as most of his former expeditions had been made to theupper forks of the Texan rivers Brazos had Colorado. But the plainsaround these rivers were at this time in undisputed possession of thepowerful tribe of Comanches, and their allies, the Kiawas, Lipans, andTonkewas. Hence, these Indians, uninterrupted in their pursuit of thebuffalo, had rendered the latter wild and difficult of approach, and hadalso thinned their numbers. On the waters of the Red River the case wasdifferent. This was hostile ground. The Wacoes, Panes, Osages, andbands from the Cherokee, Kickapoo, and other nations to the east, occasionally hunted there, and sanguinary conflicts occurred among them;so that one party or another often lost their season's hunt by thenecessity of keeping out of each other's range; and the game was thusleft undisturbed. It is a well-known fact that in a neutral or "hostileground" the buffalo, as well as other game, are found in greatestabundance, and are there more easily approached than elsewhere. 

With a knowledge of these facts, Carlos the cibolero had determined torisk an expedition to the Red River, whose head-waters have their sourcein the eastern "ceja" of the Llano Estacado, and _not_ in the RockyMountains as laid down upon maps. 

Carlos was well armed for hunting the buffalo--so was the half-bloodAntonio--and two of the three peons were also experienced hunters. Their arms consisted of the bow and lance, both weapons being preferableto fire-arms for buffalo-hunting. In one of the carretas, however, might be seen a weapon of another kind--a long brown American rifle. This Carlos kept for other and higher game, and he well knew how to useit. But how came such a weapon into the hands of a Mexican cibolero?Remember Carlos was not of Mexican origin. The weapon was a familyrelic. It had been his father's. 

We shall not follow Carlos and his "caravan" through all the details oftheir weary "journeyings" across the desert plain. At one place theymade a "Jornada" of seventy miles without water. But the experiencedCarlos knew how to accomplish this without the loss of a single animal. 

He travelled thus. Having given his cattle as much as they would drinkat the last watering-place, he started in the afternoon, and travelleduntil near daybreak. Then a halt of two hours was made, so that theanimals should graze while the dew was still on the grass. Another longmarch followed, continuing until noon, then a rest of three or fourhours brought the cool evening, when a fresh spell of marching broughtthe "Jornada" to its end, far on in the following night. Such is themode of travelling still practised on the desert steppes of Chihuahua, Sonora, and North Mexico. 

After several days' travelling the cibolero and his party descended fromthe high "mesa, " and, passing down its eastern slope, arrived on atributary of the Red River. Here the scenery assumed a new aspect--theaspect of the "rolling" prairie. Gentle declivities, with soft roundedtops declining into smooth verdant vales, along which meandered streamsof clear and sparkling water. Here and there along the banks stoodgroves of trees, such as the evergreen live-oak, the beautiful "pecan"with its oblong edible nuts, the "overcup" with its odd-looking acorns, the hackberry with its nettle-shaped leaves and sweet fruits, and thesilvery cotton-wood. Along the swells could be seen large treesstanding apart, and at almost equal distances, as though planted for anorchard. Their full leafy tops gave them a fine appearance, and theirlight pinnate leaves, with the long brown legumes hanging from theirbranches, told they were the famous "mezquite" trees--the Americanacacia. The red mulberry could be seen in the creek bottoms, and hereand there the beautiful wild-china-tree with its pretty lilac flowers. The whole surface both of hill and valley was clad in a rich mantle ofshort _buffalo_ grass, which gave it the aspect of a meadow lately mown, and springing into fresh verdure. It was a lovely landscape, and nowonder the wild bulls of the prairies chose it for their favouriterange. 

The cibolero had not travelled far through this favoured region until hecame upon the buffalo sign--"roads", "wallows", and "bois de vache;" andnext morning he found himself in the midst of vast herds, roaming aboutlike tame cattle, and browsing at their leisure. So little shy werethey, they scarce deigned to make off at his approach!

Of course he had reached the end of his journey. This was his greatstock-farm. These were his own cattle--as much his as any one else's;and he had nothing more to do but set to killing and curing. 

As to his trade with the Indians, that would take place whenever heshould chance to fall in with a party--which he would be certain to doin the course of the season. 

Like all men of the prairie, rude trappers as well as Indians, Carloshad an eye for the picturesque, and therefore chose a beautiful spot forhis camp. It was a grassy bottom, through which ran a clear "arroyo" ofsweet water, shaded by pecan, mulberry, and wild-china-trees, and underthe shadow of a mulberry grove his carretas were halted and his tent waspitched. 

CHAPTER TWELVE. 

Carlos had commenced his hunt, and was making rapid progress. In thefirst two days he had slaughtered no less than twenty buffaloes, and hadthem all carried to camp. He and Antonio followed the buffalo and shotthem down, while two of the peons skinned the animals, cut up the meat, and packed it to camp. There, under the hands of the third, itunderwent the further process of being "jerked, " that is, cut into thinslices and dried in the sun. 

The hunt promised to be profitable. Carlos would no doubt obtain asmuch "tasajo" as he could carry home, besides a large supply of hides, both of which found ready sale in the towns of New Mexico. 

On the third day, however, the hunters noticed a change in the behaviourof the buffalo. They had suddenly grown wild and wary. Now and thenvast gangs passed them, running at full speed, as if terrified andpursued! It was not Carlos and his companion that had so frighted them. What then had set them a-running?

Carlos conjectured that some Indian tribe was in the neighbourhoodengaged in hunting them. 

His conjecture proved correct. On ascending a ridge which gave him aview of a beautiful valley beyond, his eye rested upon an Indianencampment. 

It consisted of about fifty lodges, standing like tents along the edgeof the valley, and fronting towards the stream. They were of a conicalform, constructed of a framework of poles set in a circle, drawntogether at their tops, and then covered with skins of the buffalo. 

"Waco lodges!" said the cibolero, the moment his practised eye fell uponthem. 

"Master, " inquired Antonio, "how do you tell that?" Antonio'sexperience fell far short of that of his master, who from childhood hadspent his life on the prairies. 

"How!" replied Carlos, "by the lodges themselves. "

"I should have taken it for a Comanche camp, " said the half-blood. "Ihave seen just such lodges among the `Buffalo-eaters. '"

"Not so, Anton, " rejoined his master. "In the Comanche lodge the polesmeet at the top, and are covered over with the skins, leaving no outletfor smoke. You observe it is not so with these. They are lodges of theWacoes, who, it is true, are allies of the Comanches. "

Such was in reality the fact. The poles, though bent so as to approacheach other at the top, did not quite meet, and an open hole remained forthe passage of smoke. The lodge, therefore, was not a perfect cone, butthe frustum of one; and in this it differed from the lodge of theComanches. 

"The Wacoes are not hostile, " remarked the cibolero. I think we havenothing to fear from them. No doubt they will trade with us. But whereare they? This question was drawn forth by the cibolero observing thatnot a creature was to be seen about the lodges, --neither man, woman, child, nor animal! And yet it could not be a deserted camp. Indianswould not abandon such lodges as these--at least they would not leavebehind the fine robes that covered them! No, the owners must be near:no doubt, among the neighbouring hills, in pursuit of the buffalo. 

The cibolero guessed aright. As he and his companion stood looking downupon the encampment, a loud shouting reached their ears, and the nextmoment a body of several hundred horsemen was seen approaching over aswell of the prairie. They were riding slowly, but their pantingfoaming horses showed that they had just left off harder work. Presently another band, still more numerous, appeared in the rear. These were horses and mules laden with huge brown masses, thebuffalo-meat packed up in the shaggy hides. This train was conducted bythe women and boys, and followed by troops of dogs and screamingchildren. 

As they came toward the encampment from an opposite direction, Carlosand his companion were not for a while seen. 

The Indians, however, had not been long among the lodges before thequick eye of one caught sight of their two heads above the ridge. Awarning cry was uttered, and in a moment every one of the dismountedhunters was back in his saddle and ready for action. One or twogalloped off towards the meat-train, which had not yet come into camp, while others rode to and fro, exhibiting symptoms of alarm. 

No doubt they were under apprehensions that the Panes, their mortalfoes, had stolen a march upon them. 

Carlos soon relieved them from this apprehension. Spurring his horse tothe crest of the ridge, he drew up in full view of the Indians. A fewsigns, which he well knew how to make, and the word "amigo!" shouted atthe top of his voice, restored their confidence; then a young fellow nowrode out in front, and advanced up the hill. When sufficiently near tobe heard, he halted; and a conversation, partly by signs, and partly bymeans of a little Spanish, enabled him and Carlos to understand eachother. The Indian then galloped back, and, after a short interval, returned again, and invited the cibolero and his companion to theencampment. 

Carlos of course accepted the courtesy, and a few minutes after, he andAntonio were eating fresh buffalo-beef, and chatting in perfect amitywith their new hosts. 

The chief, a fine-looking man, and evidently possessing full authority, became particularly friendly with Carlos, and was much pleased athearing that the latter had a stock of goods. He promised to visit hiscamp next morning and allow his tribe to trade. As the cibolero hadconjectured, they were Waco Indians, --a noble race, one of the noblestof the prairie tribes. 

Carlos returned to his camp in high spirits. He would now have hisgoods exchanged for mules, --so the chief promised, --and these were themain objects of his expedition. 

In the morning, according to appointment, the Indians arrived, chief andall; and the little valley where the cibolero had encamped was filledwith men, women, and children. The packs were opened, the goods wereset forth, and the whole day was spent in continuous trading. Thecibolero found his customers perfectly honest; and when night came, andthey took their departure, not a single item of Carlos' stock remainedon his hands. In its place, however, a handsome _mulada_ of no lessthan thirty mules was seen picketed in the bottom of the little valley. These were now the property of Carlos the cibolero. Not a bad outlay ofhis eight onzas!

Not only would they yield well on his return, but it was his intentionthat each of them should carry back its full load of buffalo-hides, or"tasajo. "

It would be a successful expedition, indeed; and dreams of futurewealth, with the hope of being some day in a condition to advance alegitimate claim to the hand of the fair Catalina, were already passingthrough the mind of Carlos. 

Once a "rico, " reflected he, even Don Ambrosio might sanction his suit. On that night soft was the slumber and pleasant the dreams of Carlos thecibolero. 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN. 

Next day he followed his hunting with increased ardour. He was nowprovided with the means of transport to any amount. There was no fearhe should have to leave either his robes or tasajo behind. With his ownmules, he had now thirty-five; and that number, with the three carretas, would carry a splendid freight--of the value of hundreds of dollars. 

He had already obtained some dressed robes from the Indians. For thesehe had parted with everything for which an Indian would trade. Even thebuttons from off his jacket and those of his men, the bullion bands andshining tags of their sombreros--everything about them that glittered!

Their arms of course not. These the Wacoes did not want. They hadsimilar ones themselves, and could manufacture them at will. They wouldhave purchased the long brown rifle; but that was a souvenir Carloswould not have parted with for a score of mules. 

For the next day or two the cibolero continued his hunting. He foundthe buffalo grow every hour more excited and wild. He noticed, too, that the "running" gangs came from the north, while the Wacoes werehunting to the southward of his camp! It could not be the latter thatwere disturbing them. Who then?

On the third night after his trade with the Indians, Carlos had retiredto rest with his people. Antonio kept watch until midnight, at whichhour he was to be relieved by one of the peons. 

Antonio had grown very sleepy. His hard riding after the buffalo hadwearied him; and he was doing his best to keep awake for the lasthalf-hour of his vigil, when a snort reached his ears from the directionof the _mulada_. 

This brought him to himself. He placed his ear to the ground andlistened. Another snort louder than the first came from the _mulada_--another--and another--quick in succession!

"What can it mean? Coyotes? or, perhaps, a bear? I shall wake mymaster, " said Antonio to himself. 

Stealing gently to the side of Carlos, the half-blood shook the sleeperby the arm. A slight shake was enough, for in an instant the cibolerowas upon his feet and handling his rifle. He always resorted to thisweapon in cases of danger, such as a hostile attack by Indians, usinghis bow only in the chase. 

After a word or two had passed between Carlos and Antonio the threepeons were awaked, and all five stood to their arms. The little partyremained in the midst of the carretas, which had been drawn up so as toform a small triangular corral. The high boxes of these would be anexcellent protection against arrows; and, as there was no fire in thecamp to make a light, they could not be seen from without. The camp, moreover, was shadowed by the thick foliage of the mulberries, whichrendered it still more obscure; while its occupants commanded a view ofthe prairie in front. But for the wood copses which stood at intervals, they could have seen the whole ground both up and down the valley andalong its sides. These copses, however, might have concealed any numberof foes. 

The hunters remained silent, listening intently. At one time theyfancied they could see a dark form crouching along the ground in thedirection of the _mulada_, that was picketed not a hundred yards off. The light, however, was so uncertain, not one of the five could be sureof this. Whatever it was, it moved very slowly, for it appeared toremain near the same spot. 

Carlos at length set himself to observe it more closely. He stole outfrom the corral, and, followed by Antonio, crawled along the ground. When the two had got nearer the dark object, it was distinctly seen tomove. 

"There _is_ something!" whispered the cibolero. 

At that moment the mules again snorted, and one or two of them struckthe ground with their hoofs, as if startled. 

"It must be a bear, I fancy, " continued Carlos. "It has the appearanceof one. It will stampede the animals--a shot will be less likely to doso. "

As he said this he raised his rifle, and, taking aim as well as thedarkness would allow him, pulled trigger and fired. 

It seemed as if the shot had invoked all the demons of the infernalregions. A hundred voices burst forth in one simultaneous yell, thehoofs of a hundred horses rang upon the turf, the _mulada_ got intomotion, the mules squealing and plunging violently, and the next momentevery one of them had broken their lariats, and were running at afurious gallop out of the valley! A dark band of yelling horsemen wasseen closing in after and driving them off; and, before Carlos couldrecover from his surprise, both mules and Indians had disappeared out ofsight and hearing!

Not a single one remained of the whole _mulada_. The ground upon whichthey had been picketed was swept perfectly clear!

"An estampeda!" said the cibolero, in a husky voice; "my poor mules--allgone--_every_ one of them! A curse upon Indian duplicity!"

Carlos had not the slightest doubt but that the marauders were theWacoes--the very same from whom he had purchased the mules. He knewthat such an occurrence was by no means rare--that oftentimes thetraders are robbed in this way; and not unusual is it for them topurchase a second time the very animals thus carried off, and from thesame Indians who have stolen them!

"A curse upon Indian duplicity!" he repeated with indignant emphasis. "No wonder they were so free and generous in their barter! It was but aplot on the part of the cowardly thieves to take from me my whole cargo, without daring to do so openly. _Carajo_! I am lost!"

This last phrase was uttered in a tone that partook equally of anger andgrief. 

The cibolero was certainly placed in an unpleasant situation. All hishopes--lately running so high--were crushed in a single moment. Hiswhole property taken from him--the object of his enterprise lost--hislong, perilous, and painful journeyings made for nothing. He shouldreturn empty-handed, poorer than when he set out--for his own fivepack-mules were gone among the rest. The oxen, and his faithful steed, tied to the carretas, alone remained. These would scarce serve to carryprovision for himself and party on their journey home; no cargo--not abale of hides--not a "bulta" of meat more than would be required fortheir own food!

These reflections all passed through the mind of the cibolero in thespace of a few moments, as he stood gazing in the direction in which themarauders had gone. He made no attempt to follow--that would have beenworse than useless. On his splendid horse he might have overtakenthem--only to die on the points of their lances!

"A curse upon Indian duplicity!" he once more repeated; and then, risingto his feet, walked back to the corral, and gave orders for the oxen tobe drawn close up and firmly fastened to the carretas. Another surprisemight be attempted by some lingering party of the savages; and, as itwould be unsafe to go to sleep, the cibolero and his four companionsremained awake and on the alert for the remainder of the night. 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN. 

That was a _noche triste_ to Carlos--a night of painful reflections. Bereft of his property--in the midst of hostile Indians, who mightchange their minds, return, and massacre him and his party--many hundredmiles from home, or from any settlement of whites--a wide desert to betraversed--the further discouragement that there was no object for hisgoing home, now that he was stripped of all his trading-stock--perhapsto be laughed at on his return--no prospect of satisfaction orindemnity, for he well knew that his government would send out noexpedition to revenge so humble an individual as he was--he knew, infact, that no expedition of Spanish soldiery could penetrate to theplace, even if they had the will; but to fancy Vizcarra and Robladosending one on his account! No, no; there was no hope of his obtainingsatisfaction. He was cruelly robbed, and he knew that he must endureit; but what a blighted prospect was before him!

As soon as day broke he would go to the Waco camp--he would boldlyupbraid them for their treachery. But what purpose would that serve?Besides, would he find them still there? No; most likely they weremoving off to some other part at the time they had planned the robbery!

Several times during the night a wild idea occurred to him. If he couldnot have indemnity he might obtain revenge. The Wacoes were not withoutenemies. Several bordering tribes were at war with them; and Carlosknew they had a powerful foe in the Panes. 

"My fortune is bitter, " thought Carlos; "but revenge is sweet! What ifI seek the Pane, --tell him my intention, --offer him my lance, my bow, and my true rifle? I have never met the Pane. I know him not; but I amno weak hand, and now that I have a cause for vengeance he will notdespise my aid. My men will follow me--I know they will--anywhere; and, tame `Tagnos' though they be, they can fight when roused to revenge. Ishall seek the Pane!"

The last thought was uttered half aloud, and with emphasis that spokedetermination. The cibolero was a man of quick resolves, and thisresolve he had actually come to. It is not to be wondered at, Hisindignation at being treated in such a cruel and cowardly manner--thepoor prospect before him on returning to the settlement--his naturaldesire to punish those who had placed him in such a predicament--as wellas some hope which he still entertained of recovering at least a part ofhis lost property, --all influenced him to this resolve. He haddetermined upon it, and was just on the point of communicating hisdetermination to his companions, when he was interrupted by thehalf-blood Antonio. 

"Master, " said the latter, who appeared to have been for some timebusied with his own thoughts, "did you notice nothing strange?"

"When, Antonio?"

"During the estampeda. "

"What was there strange?"

"Why, there appeared to be a good number, full half, of the rascalsafoot. "

"True; I observed that. "

"Now, master, I have seen a _cavallada_ stampeded by the Comanches morethan once--they were always mounted. "

"What signifies that? These are Wacoes, not Comanches. "

"True, master; but I have heard that the Wacoes, like the Comanches, aretrue Horse-Indians, and never go afoot on any business. "

"That is indeed so, " replied the cibolero in a reflective mood. "Something strange, I confess. "

"But, master, " continued the half-blood, "did you notice nothing elsestrange during the stampede?"

"No, " answered Carlos; "I was so annoyed--so put out by the loss--Iscarce noticed anything. What else, Antonio?"

"Why, in the midst of these yellings, did you not hear a shrill whoopnow and then--a _whistle_?"

"Ha! did you hear that?"

"More than once--distinctly. "

"Where were my ears?" asked the cibolero of himself. "You are sure, Antonio?"

"Quite sure, master. "

Carlos remained for a moment silent, evidently engaged in busyreflection. After a pause, he broke out in a half-soliloquy:--

"It may have been--it must have been--by Heavens! it must--"

"What, master?"

"The Pane whistle!"

"Just what I was thinking, master. The Comanches never whoop so--theKiawa never. I have not heard that the Wacoes give such a signal. Whynot Pane? Besides, their being afoot--that's like Pane!"

A sudden revulsion had taken place in the mind of the cibolero. Therewas every probability that Antonio's conjecture was correct. The"whistle" is a peculiar signal of the Pane tribes. Moreover, the factof so many of the marauders being on foot--that was another peculiarity. Carlos knew that among the Southern Indians such a tactic is neverresorted to. The Panes are _Horse_-Indians too, but on their maraudingexpeditions to the South they often go afoot, trusting to returnmounted--which they almost invariably do. 

"After all, " thought Carlos, "I have been wronging the Wacoes--therobbers are Panes!"

But now a new suspicion entered his mind. It was still the Wacoes thathad done it. They had adopted the Pane whistle to deceive him! A partyof them might easily be afoot--it was not such a distance to theircamp, --besides, after the estampeda they had gone in that verydirection!

No doubt, should he go there on the morrow, they would tell him thatPanes were in the neighbourhood, that it was they who had stolen hismules--the mules of course he would not see, as these would be safelyconcealed among the hills. 

"No, Antonio, " he said, after making these reflections, "our enemies arethe Wacoes themselves. "

"Master, " replied Antonio, "I hope not. "

"I hope not, too, camarado. I had taken a fancy to our friends of butyesterday: I should be sorry to find them our foes--but I fear it iseven so. "

With all, Carlos was not confident; and now that he reflected, anothercircumstance came to his mind in favour of the Wacoes. His companionshad also noted it. 

That circumstance was the running of the buffaloes observed during thepast few days. The gangs had passed from the north, going southward;and their excited manner was almost a proof that they were pressed by aparty of hunters. The Wacoes were all this time hunting to the south ofthe cibolero's camp! This would seem to indicate that some otherIndians were upon the north. What more likely than a band of Panes?

Again Carlos reproached himself for his too hasty suspicions of his newfriends. His mind was filled with doubts. Perhaps these would beresolved by the light of the morning. 

As soon as day should arrive, he had resolved to go to the Waco camp, and satisfy himself, or at all events openly make his inquiries. 

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The first streaks of daylight were just falling upon the prairie, whenthe quick keen eye of the half-blood, ranging the ground in everydirection, was arrested by the appearance of something odd upon thegrass. It lay near the spot where the _mulada_ had been picketed. Itwas a darkish object in a recumbent position. Was it bushes or gorse?No. It could not be that. Its outlines were different. It was morelike some animal lying down--perhaps a large wolf? It was near theplace where they had fancied that they saw something in the darkness, and at which Carlos had fired. 

Antonio, on first perceiving the object, called his master's attentionto it, and both now gazed over the box of the carreta, scanning it aswell as the grey light would permit them. 

As this became brighter, the object was seen more distinctly, while ateach moment the curiosity of the ciboleros increased. They would havelong since gone out to examine it more closely; but they were not yetfree from apprehensions of a second attack from the Indians; and theyprudently remained within the corral. 

At length, however, they could forego an examination no longer. Theyhad formed their suspicion of what the object was; and Carlos andAntonio climbed over the carretas, and proceeded towards it. 

On arriving at the spot they were not so much surprised--for they hadpartially anticipated such a thing--at finding the body of a deadIndian. It was lying flat upon the grass, face downwards; and, oncloser examination, a wound, from which much blood had run, wasperceived in the side. There was the mark of a rifle bullet--Carlos hadnot fired in vain! They bent down, and turned over the body to examineit. The savage was in full war-costume--that is, naked to the waist, and painted over the breast and face so as to render him as frightful aspossible: but what struck the ciboleros as most significant was the_costume of his head_! This was close shaven over the temples andbehind the ears. A patch upon the top was clipped short, but in thecentre of the crown one long lock of hair remained uncut, and this lockwas intermingled with plumes, and plaited so as to hang, queue-like, down the back. The naked temples were stained with vermilion, and thecheeks and bosom daubed in a similar manner. These brilliant spotscontrasted with the colourless and deathly hue of the skin, and, withthe blanched lips and glazed eyeballs, gave to the corpse a hideousappearance. 

Carlos, after gazing upon it for some moments, turned to his companionwith a look of intelligence; and, pointing to the shaved head, and thento the moccasins upon the Indian's feet, in a tone that expressed thesatisfaction he felt at the discovery, pronounced the word, --"Pane!"

CHAPTER FIFTEEN. 

The dead Indian was a Pane beyond doubt. The tonsure of his hair, thecut of his moccasins, his war-paint, enabled Carlos to tell this. 

The cibolero was glad that he was a Pane. He had several reasons forbeing so. First, it gratified him to know that his Waco friends werestill true; secondly, that he had punished one of the robbers; and, lastly, the knowledge that they were Panes gave him some hope that hemight yet recover, _by the help of the Wacoes_, some of the stolenmules. 

This was not improbable. As already stated, the Wacoes and Panes weresworn foes; and as soon as the former should hear that the latter werein the neighbourhood, Carlos felt sure they would go in pursuit of them. He would share in this pursuit with his little band, and, in the eventof the Panes being defeated, might get back his _mulada_. 

His first impulse, therefore, was, to gallop to the Waco camp--apprisethem of the fact that the Pane was on the war-trail, and then join themin search of the latter. 

Just then both he and Antonio remembered that the Panes had themselvesgone in the direction of the Waco camp! It was not two miles distant--they could hardly fail to find it, even in the night. What if they hadtaken the Wacoes by surprise, and had already made their attack!

It was quite probable--more than probable. The time and the hour werejust in keeping. The estampeda had occurred before midnight. No doubtthey were then on their way to the Waco village. They would just be intime to make their attack, at the usual hour for such forays, betweenmidnight and morning. 

Carlos feared he might be too late to give warning. His Waco friendsmay have already perished! Whether or no, he determined to proceed atonce to their encampment. 

Leaving Antonio and the peons with directions to guard and defend hisown camp to the last, he rode off, armed both with rifle and bow. Itwas yet but grey day, but he knew the trail leading to the Waco village, and followed it without difficulty. He rode with caution, scanning thetimber copses before approaching them; and running his eye along thecrests of the ridges as he advanced. 

This caution was not unnecessary. The Panes could not be far off--theymight still be in ambush between him and the Waco camp, or halted amongthe hills. 

The cibolero had but little fear of meeting one or two of them. He rodea horse in which he had full confidence; and he knew that no Pane couldovertake him; but he might be surrounded by numbers, and interceptedbefore he could reach the Waco lodges. That was the reason why headvanced with so much caution. 

His ears were set to listen attentively. Every sound was noted andweighed--the "gobble" of the wild turkey from the branches of the oak;the drumming of the ruffed grouse on some dry knoll; the whistling ofthe fallow-deer; or the tiny bark of the prairie marmot. All these werewell-known sounds; and as each was uttered, the cibolero stopped andlistened attentively. Under other circumstances he would not haveheeded them, but he knew that these sounds could be imitated, and hisear was bent to detect any counterfeit. He could distinguish the Panetrail of the previous night. A strong band there must have been, by thenumerous tracks on the grass. At the crossing of a stream Carlos coulddetect the prints of moccasins in the sand. There were still some ofthe party afoot then, though, no doubt, the stolen _mulada_ had mounteda good many. 

Carlos rode on with more caution than ever. He was half-way to the Wacovillage, and still the Pane trail led in that direction. Surely thesecould not have passed without finding it? Such skilled warriors as thePanes would not. They would see the trail of the Wacoes leading to thecibolero's own camp--they would soon discover the lodges--perhaps theyhad already made their attack--perhaps--

The reflections of the cibolero were suddenly interrupted; distantsounds fell upon his ear--shouts and cries of fearful import--with thatcontinued murmur that results from the mingling of many voices in loudand confused clamour. Now and then was heard a whoop, or a cheer, or ashrill whistle, rising above the ordinary noises, and carrying far overthe plain its tones of triumph or revenge. 

Carlos knew the import of those shouts and cries--they were the soundsof battle!--of terrible and deadly strife!

They came from behind the hill--the cibolero was just climbing it. 

He spurred his horse, and, galloping forward to its crest, looked downinto the valley. The conflict was raging before him!

He had a full view of the dreadful scene. Six hundred dusky horsemenwere riding about on the plain; some dashing at each other with couchedlances--some twanging their bows from a distance; and others closetogether in the hand-to-hand combat of the deadly tomahawk! Some werecharging in groups with their long spears--some wheeling into flight, and others, dismounted, were battling on foot! Some took shelter amongthe timber islands, and sprang out again as they saw an opportunity ofsending an arrow, or lancing a foeman in the back; and so the redcontest continued. 

Not a shot was heard--neither bugle nor drum sent forth their inspiringnotes--no cannon rolled its thunder--no rocket blazed--no smoke spreadits sulphury cloud upon the air; but without these sights and soundsthere was no fear of mistaking that contest for a mimic game--atournament of the prairies. The wild war-whoop, and the wilderwhistle--the earnest onslaught--the fierce charging cheer--the cries oftriumph and vengeance--the neighing steeds without riders--here andthere the prostrate savage, with skinless scalp, glaring red in thesun--the spears and hatchets crimsoned with blood, --all were evidence ofreal and deadly strife, and Carlos did not doubt for a moment thecharacter of the scene. Before him was an Indian fight--Waco and Paneengaged in the earnest struggle of life and death!

All this he comprehended at a glance, and, after regarding the fight fora moment, he could distinguish the warriors of both tribes from oneanother. The Panes, in full war-costume, were easily recognised bytheir tufted scalp-locks; while the Wacoes, who had, no doubt, beentaken by surprise, were many of them in hunting-shirts and leggings. Some, however, were nearly as naked as their adversaries; but easilydistinguished from them by their full flowing hair. 

The first impulse of the cibolero was to gallop forward and mingle inthe fight, --of course, taking side with the Wacoes. The sound of theconflict roused his blood, and the sight of the robbers who had solately ruined him rendered him eager for revenge. Many of them weremounted upon the very mules they had taken from him, and Carlos wasdetermined to have some of them back again. 

He was about to put spurs to his horse, and dash forward, when a suddenchange seemed to occur in the conflict that decided him to remain wherehe was. The Panes were giving way!

Many of them were seen wheeling out of the plain, and taking to flight. 

As Carlos looked down the hill, he saw three of the Pane warriors infull run, making up to the spot where he stood. Most of the band werestill fighting, or had fled in a different direction; but these, cut offfrom the rest, came directly up the hill at a gallop. 

The cibolero had drawn his horse under the cover of some trees, and wasnot perceived by them until they were close to the spot. 

At this moment the war-cry of the Wacoes was heard directly in theirrear, and Carlos saw that two mounted warriors of that tribe were inpursuit. The fugitives looked back, and, seeing only two adversariosafter them, once more wheeled round and gave fight. 

At their first charge one of the pursuers was killed, and the other--whom Carlos now recognised as the Waco chief--was left alone againstthree assailants. 

The whip-like crack of the cibolero's rifle sounded on the air, and oneof the Panes dropped out of his saddle. The other two, ignorant ofwhence the shot had come, continued their onset on the Waco chief, who, dashing close up, split the skull of one of there with his tomahawk. His horse, however, bore him rapidly past, and before he could wheelround, the remaining Pane--an active warrior--rushed after and thrusthis long spear into the back of the chief. Its head passed clearthrough his body, completely impaling him; and with a death-whoop, thenoble Indian fell from his horse to the ground. 

But his enemy fell at the same time. The arrow of the cibolero was toolate to save, though not to avenge, the Waco's fall. It pierced thePane just at the moment the latter had made his thrust, and he fell tothe ground simultaneously with his victim, still clutching the handle ofthe spear!

A fearful group lay dead upon the sward; but Carlos did not stay tocontemplate it. The fight still raged in another part of the field, and, putting spurs to his horse he galloped off to take part in it. 

But the Panes had now lost many of their best warriors, and a generalpanic had seized upon them, ending in their full flight. Carlosfollowed along with the victorious pursuers, now and then using hisrifle upon the fleeing robbers. But fearing that a stray party of themmight attack his own little camp he turned from the line of pursuit, andgalloped in that direction. On arriving, he found Antonio and the peonsfortified within their corral, and all safe. Stray Indians had passedthem, but all apparently too much frightened to have any desire for anattack upon the little party. 

As soon as the cibolero had ascertained these facts, he turned his horseand rode back toward the scene of the late conflict. 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN. 

As Carlos approached the spot where the chief had been slain he heardthe death-wail chanted by a chorus of voices. 

On getting still nearer, he perceived a ring of warriors dismounted andstanding around a corpse. It was that of the fallen chief. Others, fresh from the pursuit, were gathering to the place; each taking up themelancholy dirge as he drew nigh. 

The cibolero alighted, and walked forward to the ring. Some regardedhim with looks of surprise, while others, who knew he had aided them inthe fight, stepped up and grasped him by the hand. One old warriortaking Carlos' arm in his, led him forward to the ring, and silentlypointed to the now ghastly features, as though he was imparting to thecibolero the news that their chief was dead!

Neither he nor any of the warriors knew what part Carlos had borne inthe affair. No one, now alive, had been witness to the conflict inwhich the chief had fallen. Around the spot were high copses that hidit from the rest of the field, and, at the time this conflict occurred, the fight was raging in a different direction. The warrior, therefore, thought he was imparting to Carlos a piece of news, and the latterremained silent. 

But there was a _mystery_ among the braves, and Carlos saw this by theirmanner. Five Indians lay dead upon the ground _unscalped_! That wasthe mystery. They were the three Panes, and the chief with the otherWaco. They could not have slain each other, and all have fallen on thespot. That was not probable. The Waco and one of the Panes lay apart. The other three were close together, just as they had fallen, the chiefimpaled by the Pane spear, while his slayer lay behind him stillgrasping the weapon! The red tomahawk was clutched firmly in the handsof the chief, and the cleft skull of the second Pane showed where it hadlast fallen. 

So far the Indians translated the tableau, but the mystery lay notthere. Who had slain the slayer of their chief? That was the puzzle. Some one must have survived this deadly strife, where five warriors haddied together!

If a Pane, surely he would not have gone off without that great trophywhich would have rendered him famous for life, --the scalp of the Wacochief? If a Waco, where and who was he?

These questions passed from lip to lip. No one was found to answerthem, but there were yet some warriors to return from the pursuit, andthe inquiry was suspended, while the death-song was again chanted overthe fallen chief. 

At length all the braves had arrived on the spot, and stood in a circlearound the body. One of the warriors stepped forward to the midst, andby a signal intimated that he wished to be heard. A breathless silencefollowed, and the warrior began:--

"Wacoes! our hearts are sad when they should otherwise rejoice. In themidst of victory a great calamity has fallen upon us. We have lost ourfather, --our brother! Our great chief--he whom we all loved--hasfallen. Alas! In the very hour of triumph, when his strong right handhad hewn down his enemy on the field--in that moment has he fallen!

"The hearts of his warriors are sad, the hearts of his people will longbe sad!

"Wacoes! our chief has not fallen unrevenged. His slayer lies at hisfeet pierced with the deadly dart, and weltering in his blood. Who ofyou hath done this?"

Here the speaker paused for a moment as if waiting for a reply. Nonewas given. 

"Wacoes!" he continued, "our beloved chief has fallen, and our heartsare sad. But it glads them to know that his death has been avenged. There lies his slayer, still wearing his hated scalp. What bravewarrior claims the trophy? Let him stop forth and take it!"

Here there was another pause, but neither voice nor movement answeredthe challenge. 

The cibolero was silent with the rest. He did not comprehend what wassaid, as the speech was in the Waco tongue, and he understood it not. He guessed that it related to the fallen chief and his enemies, but itsexact purport was unknown to him. 

"Brothers!" again resumed the orator, "brave men are modest and silentabout their deeds. None but a brave warrior could have done this. Weknow that a brave warrior will avow it. Let him fear not to speak. TheWacoes will be grateful to the warrior who has avenged the death oftheir beloved chief. "

Still the silence was unbroken, except by the voice of the orator. 

"Brother warriors!" he continued, raising his voice and speaking in anearnest tone, "I have said that the Wacoes will be grateful for thisdeed. I have a proposal to make. Hear me!"

All signified assent by gestures. 

"It is our custom, " continued the speaker, "to elect our chief from thebraves of our tribe. I propose that we elect him _now_ and _here_--here! on the red field where his predecessor has fallen. _I propose forour chief the warrior who has done this deed_!" And the orator pointedto the fallen Pane. 

"_My_ voice for the brave who has avenged our chief!" cried one. 

"And mine!" shouted another. 

"And mine! and mine! and mine!" exclaimed all the warriors. 

"Then solemnly be it proclaimed, " said the orator, "that he to whombelongs this trophy, " he pointed to the scalp of the Pane, "shall bechief of the Waco nation!"

"Solemnly we avow it!" cried all the warriors in the ring, each placinghis hand over his heart as he spoke. 

"Enough!" said the orator. "Who is chief of the Waco warriors? Let himdeclare himself on the spot!"

A dead silence ensued. Every eye was busy scanning the faces around thecircle, every heart was beating to hail their new chief. 

Carlos, unconscious of the honour that was in store for him, wasstanding a little to one side, observing the movements of his duskycompanions with interest. He had not the slightest idea of the questionthat had been put. Some one near him, however, who spoke Spanish, explained to him the subject of the inquiry, and he was about to make amodest avowal, when one of the braves in the circle exclaimed--

"Why be in doubt longer? If modesty ties the tongue of the warrior, lethis weapon speak. Behold! his arrow still pierces the body of our foe. Perhaps it will declare its owner, --it is a marked one!"

"True!" ejaculated the orator. "Let us question the arrow!"

And, stepping forward, he drew the shaft from the body of the Pane, andheld it aloft. 

The moment the eyes of the warriors fell upon its barbed head, anexclamation of astonishment passed from their lips. The head was of_iron_! No Waco ever used such a weapon as that!

All eyes were instantly turned on Carlos the cibolero, with looks ofinquiry and admiration. All felt that it must be from his bow had spedthat deadly shaft; and they were the more convinced of this because somewho had noticed the third Pane pierced with a rifle bullet, had justdeclared the fact to the crowd. 

Yes, it must be so. The pale-face was the avenger of their chief!

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. 

Carlos, who by this time had become aware of the nature of theirinquiries, now stepped forward, and, in modest phrase, detailed throughthe interpreter how the chief had fallen, and what part he himself hadborne in the conflict. 

A loud murmur of applause broke from the circle of warriors, and themore excited of the young men rushed forward and grasped the cibolero'shand, uttering as they did so expressions of gratitude. Most of thewarriors already knew that to him they were indebted for their safety. It was the report of his rifle, fired in the night, that had put them ontheir guard, and prevented the Panes from surprising their encampment, else the day's history might have been _very_ different. In fact, thePanes, through this very signal having been heard, had been themselvessurprised, and that was the true secret of their disaster and sanguinaryretreat. 

When, in addition to this service, it was seen how the cibolero hadfought on their side, killing several of their foes, the hearts of theWacoes were filled with gratitude; but now that it became known that thepale-faced warrior was the avenger of their beloved chief, theirgratitude swelled into enthusiasm, and for some minutes their loudexpressions of it alone could be heard. 

When the excitement had to some extent subsided, the warrior who seemedto be recognised as the orator of the tribe, and who was regarded withgreat deference, again stood forth to speak. This time his speech wasdirected to Carlos alone. 

"White warrior!" he said. "I have spoken with the braves of our nation. They all feel that they owe you deep gratitude, which words cannotrepay. The purport of our recent deliberations has been explained toyou. Upon this ground we vowed that the avenger of him who lies coldshould be our future chief. We thought not at the time that that bravewarrior was our white brother. But now we know; and should we for thatbe false to our vow--to our promised word? No!--not even in thought;and here, with equal solemnity, we again repeat that oath. "

"We repeat it!" echoed around the ring of warriors, while each withsolemnity of manner placed his hand over his heart. 

"White warrior!" continued the speaker, "our promise remains sacred. The honour we offer you is the greatest that we can bestow. It hasnever been borne but by a _true_ warrior of the Waco tribe, for noimpotent descendant of even a favourite chief has ever ruled over thebraves of our nation. We do not fear to offer this honour to you. Wewould rejoice if you would accept it. Stranger! we will be proud of a_white_ chief when that chief is a warrior such as you! We know youbetter than you think. We have heard of you from our allies theComanche--we have heard of _Carlos the Cibolero_!

"We know you are a great warrior; and we know, too, that in your owncountry, among your own people, you are nothing. Excuse our freedom, but speak we not the truth? We despise your people, who are onlytyrants and slaves. All these things have our Comanche brothers toldus, and much more of _you_. We know who you are, then; we knew you whenyou came amongst us, and were glad to see you. We traded with you as afriend. 

"We now hail you as a brother, and thus say, --If you have no ties thatbind you to your ungrateful nation, we can offer you one that will notbe ungrateful. Live with us, --be our chief!"

As the speaker ended, his last words were borne like an echo from lip tolip until they had gone round the full circle of warriors, and then abreathless silence ensued. 

Carlos was so taken by surprise that for some moments he was unable tomake reply, he was not alone surprised by the singular proposal thussingularly made to him; but the knowledge which the speaker betrayed ofhis circumstances quite astonished him. True, he had traded much amongthe Comanches, and was on friendly terms with that tribe, some of whom, in times of peace, even visited the settlement of San Ildefonso; but itseemed odd that these savages should have noticed the fact--for fact itwas--that the cibolero was somewhat of an outcast among his own people. Just then he had no time to reflect upon the singularity of thecircumstances, as the warriors waited his reply. 

He scarcely knew what reply to make. Hopeless outcast that he was, fora moment the proposal seemed worthy of acceptance. At home he waslittle better than a slave; here he would be ruler, the lord elect ofall. 

The Wacoes, though savages by name, were warriors, were men of hearts, human and humane. He had proofs of it before him. His mother andsister would share his destiny; but Catalina, --ha! that one thoughtresolved him; he reflected no further. 

"Generous warriors!" he replied; "I feel from the bottom of my heart afull sense of the honour you have offered to confer upon me. I wishthat by words I could prove how much I thank you, but I cannot. Mywords, therefore, shall be few and frank. It is true that in my ownland I am not honoured, --I am one of the poorest of its people; butthere is _a tie_ that binds me to it--_a tie of the heart_ that callsupon me to return. Wacoes, I have spoken!"

"Enough!" said the orator; "enough, brave stranger: it is not for us toinquire into the motives that guide your acts. If not our chief, youwill remain our friend. We have yet a way--a poor one--left us to showour gratitude: you have suffered from our enemies; you have lost yourproperty, but that has been recovered, and shall be yours again. Further we entreat you to remain with us for some days, and partake ofour rude hospitality. _You_ will stay with us?"

The invitation was promptly echoed by all, and as promptly accepted. 

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About a week after this time an atajo of pack-mules--nearly fifty innumber--loaded with buffalo-hides and tasajo, was seen struggling up theeastern ceja of the Llano Estacado, and heading in a north-westerlydirection over that desert plain. The arriero, mounted upon the_mulera_, was a half-blood Indian. Three carretas, drawn by oxen anddriven by dusky peons, followed the mule-train, making noise enough tofrighten even the coyotes that behind skulked through the coverts ofmezquite. A dashing horseman mounted upon a fine black steed rode inadvance, who, ever and anon turning in his saddle, looked back with asatisfied glance upon the fine atajo. That horseman was _Carlos_. 

The Wacoes had not forgotten to be generous. That train of mules andthose heavy packs were the gift of the tribe to the avenger of theirchief. But that was not all. In the breast-pocket of the cibolero'sjacket was a "bolsa, " filled with rare stuff, also a present from theWacoes, who promised some day that their guest should have more of thesame. What did that bolsa contain? coin? money? jewels? No. Itcontained only dust; but that dust was yellow and glittering. It was_gold_!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. 

On the second day after the fiesta there was a small dining party at thePresidio. Merely a few bachelor friends of the Comandante--the _beauxesprits_ of the place--including the fashionable Echevarria. The curawas among the number, and also the mission padres, both of whom enjoyedthe convivialities of the table equal to any "friar of orders grey. "

The company had gone through the numerous courses of a Mexican meal--the"pucheros", "guisados, " and endless mixtures of "chile, "--and the dinnerwas at that stage when the cloth has been carried off, and the wineflows freely, "Canario" and "Xeres", "Pedro do Ximenes", "Madeira, " and"Bordeos, " in bottles of different shapes, stood upon the table; and forthose who liked a stronger beverage there was a flask of golden"Catalan, " with another of Maraschino. A well-stored cellar was that ofthe Comandante. In addition to his being military governor, he was, asalready hinted, collector of the _derechos de consume_, or custom-housedues. Hence he was the recipient of many a little present, as now andthen a basket of champagne or a dozen of Bordeaux. 

His company had got fairly into the wine. The cura had thrown aside hissanctity and become _human_ like the rest; the padres had forgottentheir sackcloth and bead-roll, and the senior of them, Padre Joaquin, entertained the table with spicy adventures which had occurred to him_before_ he became a monk. Echevarria related anecdotes of Paris, withmany adventures he had encountered among the grisettes. 

The Spanish officers being the hosts were, of course, least talkative, though the Comandante--vain as any young sub who wore his epaulettes forthe first time--could not refrain from alluding occasionally to histerrible list of _bonnes fortunes_ among the fair Sevillanas. He hadlong been stationed at the city of oranges, and "la gracia Andalusiana"was ever his theme of admiration. 

Roblado believed in the belles of the Havannah, and descanted upon theplump, material beauty which is characteristic of the Quadroons; whilethe lieutenant expressed his _penchant_ for the small-footed_Guadalaxarenas_--not of old Spain, but of the rich Mexican provinceGuadalaxara. _He_ had been quartered there. 

So ran the talk--rough and ribald--upon that delicate theme--woman. Thepresence of the trio of churchmen was no restraint. On the contrary, both padres and cura boasted of their _liaisons_ with as much bawd andbrass as the others, for padres and cura were both as depraved as any oftheir dining companions. Any little reserve either might have shownupon ordinary occasions had disappeared after a few cups of wine; andnone of them feared the company, which, on its part, stood as little inawe of them. The affectation of sanctity and self-denial was meant onlyfor the simple poblanos and the simpler peons of the settlement. At thedinner-table it was occasionally assumed by one or the other, but onlyby way of joke, --to give point and piquancy to the relation of someadventure. In the midst of the conversation, which had grown somewhatgeneral and confused, a name was pronounced which produced a momentarysilence. That name was "Carlos the cibolero. "

At the mention of this name several countenances changed expression. Roblado was seen to frown; on Vizcarra's face were portrayed mixedemotions; and both padres and cura seemed to know the name unfavourably. 

It was the beau Echevarria who had mentioned it. 

"'Pon the honour of a cavallero! the most impudent thing I everwitnessed in all my life, even in republican Paris! A fellow, --a demnedtrader in hides and tasajo--in short, a butcher of demned buffaloes toaspire--_Parbleu_!"

Echevarria, though talking Spanish, always swore in French. It was morepolite. 

"Most insolent--intolerable!" cried several voices. 

"I don't think the lady seemed over angry withal, " remarked a bluntyoung fellow, who sat near the lower end of the table. 

A chorus of voices expressed dissent from this opinion. Roblado's wasthe loudest. 

"Don Ramon Diaz, " said he, addressing himself to the young fellow, "youcertainly could not have observed very carefully on that occasion. Iwho was beside the lady know that she was filled with disgust--" (thiswas a lie, and Roblado knew it), "and her father--"

"Oh, her _father_, yes!" cried Don Ramon, laughing. "Any one could seethat _he_ was angry--that was natural enough. Ha! ha!"

"But who is the fellow?" inquired one. 

"A splendid rider, " replied Don Ramon. "The Comandante will admitthat. " And the free speaker looked at Vizcarra with a smile ofintelligence. The latter frowned at the observation. 

"You lost a good sum, did you not?" inquired the cura of Vizcarra. 

"Not to him, " replied the Comandante, "but to that vulgar fellow whoseems his friend. The worst of it is, when one bets with these lowpeople there is no chance of getting a _revanche_ at some other time. One cannot meet them in the ordinary way. "

"But who is the fellow?" again inquired one. 

"Who? Why, a cibolero--that's all. "

"True, but is there nothing about his history? He's a _gilero_, andthat is odd for a native! Is he a Criollo? He might be a Biscayan. "

"Neither one nor the other. 'Tis said he's an Americano. "

"Americano!"

"Not exactly that--his father was; but the padre here can tell all abouthim. "

The priest thus appealed to entertained the company with some facts inthe history of the cibolero. His father had been an Americano, as itwas supposed--some stray personage who had mysteriously found his way tothe valley and settled in it long ago. Such instances were rare in thesettlements of New Mexico; but what was rarer still, in this case the"Americano" was accompanied by an "Americana"--the mother of Carlos--andthe same old woman who attracted so much attention on the day of SanJuan. All the efforts of the padres to christianise either one or theother had been in vain. The old trapper--for such he was--died as hehad lived--a blaspheming "heretico;" and there was a general belief inthe settlement that his widow held converse with the devil. All thiswas a scandal to the Church, and the padres would long since haveexpelled the guero family, but that, for some reason or other, they wereprotected by the old Comandante--Vizcarra's predecessor--who hadrestrained the zealous priests in their good intention. 

"But, caballeros!" said the padre, glancing towards Vizcarra, "suchheretics are dangerous citizens. In them lie the seeds of revolutionand social disturbance; and when this guero is at home, he is seen onlyin the company of those we cannot watch too closely: he has been seenwith some of the suspected Tagnos, several of whom are in his service. "

"Ha! with them, indeed!" exclaimed several. "A dangerous fellow!--heshould be looked after. "

The sister of the cibolero now became the subject of conversation; andas remarks were made more or less complimentary to her beauty, theexpression upon the face of Vizcarra kept constantly changing. Thatvillain was more interested in the conversation than his guests wereaware, and he had already formed his plans. Already his agents were outon the accomplishment of his atrocious designs. 

The transition from the cibolero's sister to the other belles of theplace, and to the subject of woman in general, was natural; and thecompany were soon engaged in their original conversation, which, underthe influence of additional wine, grew more "racy" than ever. 

The scene ended by several of the party becoming "boracho;" and thenight being now far advanced, the guests took their leave, some of themrequiring to be conducted to their homes. A soldier apiece accompaniedthe cura and padres, all three of whom were as "drunk as lords;" and itwas no new thing for them. 

CHAPTER NINETEEN. 

The Comandante, with his friend Roblado, alone remained in the room, andcontinued the conversation with a fresh glass and cigar. 

"And you really think, Roblado, that the fellow had encouragement. Ithink so too, else he would never have dared to act as he did. "

"I am quite sure of it now. That he saw her last night, and alone, I amcertain. As I approached the house I saw a man standing before thereja, and leaning against the bars, as if conversing with some oneinside. Some friend of Don Ambrosio, thought I. 

"As I drew nearer, the man, who was muffled in a manga, walked off andleaped upon a horse. Judge my surprise on recognising in the horse theblack stallion that was yesterday ridden by the cibolero!

"When I entered the house and made inquiries as to who were at home, theservants informed me that master was at the _mineria_, and that theSenorita had retired, and could see no one that night!

"By Heaven! I was in such a passion, I hardly knew what I said at themoment. The thing's scarce credible; but, that this low fellow is onsecret terms with her, is as sure as I am a soldier. "

"It does seem incredible. What do you mean to do, Roblado?"

"Oh! I'm safe enough about her. She shall be better watched for thefuture. I've had a hint given to Don Ambrosio. You know my secret wellenough, colonel. Her _mine is my loadstone_; but it is a cursed queerthing to have for one's rival such a fellow as this! Ha! ha! ha!"

Roblado's laugh was faint and unreal. "Do you know, " continued he, striking on a new idea, "the padre don't like the guero family. That'sevident from the hints he let drop to-night. We may get this fellow outof the way without much scandal, if the Church will only interfere. Thepadres can expel him at once from the settlement if they can onlysatisfy themselves that he is a `heretico. ' Is it not so?"

"It is, " coldly replied Vizcarra, sipping his wine; "but to expel _him_, my dear Roblado, _some one else_ might be also driven off. The rosewould be plucked along with the thorn. You understand?"

"Perfectly. "

"That, then, of course, I don't wish--at least not for the present. After some time we may be satisfied to part with rose, thorn, bush, roots, and all. Ha! ha! ha!"

"By the way, colonel, " asked the captain, "have you made any progressyet?--have _you_ been to the house?"

"No, my dear fellow; I have not had time. It's some distance, remember. Besides, I intend to defer my visit until this fellow is out of theway. It will be more convenient to carry on my courtship in hisabsence. "

"Out of the way! what do you mean?"

"That the cibolero will shortly start for the Plains--to be gone, perhaps, for several months, cutting up buffalo-beef, tricking theIndians, and such-like employments. "

"Ho! that's not so bad. "

"So you see, querido camarado, there's no need for violence in thematter. Have patience--time enough for everything. Before my boldbuffalo-hunter gets back, both our little affairs will be settled, Itrust. You shall be the owner of rich mines, and I--"

A slight knock at the door, and the voice of Sergeant Gomez was heard, asking to see the Comandante. 

"Come in, sergeant!" shouted the colonel. The brutal-looking trooperwalked into the room, and, from his appearance, it was plain he had justdismounted from a ride. 

"Well, sergeant?" said Vizcarra, as the man drew near; "speak out!Captain Roblado may know what you have to say. "

"The party, colonel, lives in the very last house down the valley, --fullten miles from here. There are but the three, mother, sister, andbrother--the same you saw at the fiesta. There are three or four Tagnoservants, who help the man in his business. He owns a few mules, oxen, and carts, that's all. These he makes use of in his expeditions, uponone of which he is about to start in three or four days at the furthest. It is to be a long one, I heard, as he is to take a new route over theLlano Estacado. "

"Over the Llano Estacado?"

"Such, I was told, was his intention. "

"Anything else to say, sergeant?"

"Nothing, colonel, except that the girl has a sweetheart--the same youngfellow who bet so heavily against you at the fiesta. "

"The devil!" exclaimed Vizcarra, while a deep shadow crossed hisforehead. 

"He, indeed! I suspected that. Where does he live?"

"Not far above them, colonel. He is the owner of a rancho, and isreputed rich--that is for a ranchero. "

"Help yourself to a glass of Catalan, sergeant. "

The trooper stretched out his hand, laid hold of a bottle, and, havingfilled one of the glasses, bowed respectfully to the officers, and drankoff the brandy at a draught. Seeing that he was not wanted further, hetouched his shako and withdrew. 

"So, camarado, you see it is right enough, so far as you are concerned. "

"And for you also!" replied Roblado. 

"Not exactly. "

"Why not?"

"I don't like the story of this sweetheart--this ranchero. The fellowpossesses money--a spirit, too, that may be troublesome. He's not theman one would be called upon to fight--at least not one in my position;but _he_ is one of these people--what the cibolero is not--and has theirsympathies with him. It would be a very different thing to get involvedwith him in an affair. Bah! what need I care? I never yet failed. Good night, camarado!"

"_Buenos noches_!" replied Roblado; and both, rising simultaneously fromthe table, retired to their respective sleeping-rooms. 

CHAPTER TWENTY. 

The "ranchos" and "haciendas" of the valley extended nearly ten milesalong the stream below San Ildefonso. Near the town they were studdedmore thickly; but, as you descended the stream, fewer were met with, andthose of a poorer class. The fear of the "Indios bravos" preventedthose who were well off from building their establishments at any greatdistance from the Presidio. Poverty, however, induced others to riskthemselves nearer the frontier; and, as for several years the settlementhad not been disturbed, a number of small farmers and graziers hadestablished themselves as far as eight or ten miles distance below thetown. 

Half-a-mile beyond all these stood an isolated dwelling--the last to beseen in going down the valley. It seemed beyond the pale ofprotection--so far as the garrison was concerned--for no patrol everextended its rounds to so distant a point. Its owner evidently trustedto fate, or to the clemency of the Apaches--the Indians who usuallytroubled the settlement, --for the house in question was in no other wayfortified against them. Perhaps its obscure and retired situationcontributed to its security. 

It stood somewhat off the road, not near the stream, but back under theshadow of the bluff; in fact, almost built against the cliff. 

It was but a poor rancho, like all the others in the valley, and, indeed, throughout most parts of Mexico, built of large blocks of mud, squared in a mould and sun-dried. Many of the better class of suchbuildings showed white fronts, because near at hand gypsum was to be hadfor the digging. Some of greater pretension had windows that looked asthough they were glazed. So they were, but not with glass. The shiningplates that resembled it were but _laminae_ of the aforesaid gypsum, which is used for that purpose in several districts of New Mexico. 

The rancho in question was ornamented neither with wash nor windows. Itstood under the cliff, its brown mud walls scarce contrasting with thecolour of the rock; and, instead of windows, a pair of dark holes, witha few wooden bars across them, gave light to the interior. 

This light, however, was only a supplement to that which entered by thedoor, habitually kept open. 

The front of the house was hardly visible from the valley road. Atraveller would never have noticed it, and even the keen eye of anIndian might have failed to discover it. The singular fence thatsurrounded it hid it from view, --singular to the eye of one unaccustomedto the vegetation of this far land, it was a fence of columnar cacti. The plants that formed it were regular fluted columns, six inches thickand from six to ten feet high. They stood side by side like pickets ina stockade, so close together that the eye could scarce see through theinterstices, still further closed by the thick beard of thorns. Neartheir tops in the season these vegetable columns became loaded withbeautiful wax-like flowers, which disappeared only to give way to brightand luscious fruits. It was only after passing through the opening inthis fence that the little rancho could be seen; and although its wallswere rude, the sweet little flower-garden that bloomed within theenclosure told that the hand of care was not absent. 

Beyond the cactus-fence, and built against the cliff, was anotherenclosure--a mere wall of _adobe_ of no great height. This was a"corral" where cattle were kept, and at one corner was a sort of shed orstable of small dimensions. Sometimes half-a-dozen mules and double thenumber of oxen might be seen in that corral, and in the stable as fine ahorse as ever carried saddle. Both were empty now, for the animals thatusually occupied them were out. Horse, mules, and oxen, as well astheir owner, were far away upon the prairies. 

Their owner was Carlos the cibolero. Such was the home of thebuffalo-hunter, the home of his aged mother and fair sister. Such hadbeen their home since Carlos was a child. 

And yet they were not of the people of the valley nor the town. Neitherrace--Spanish nor Indian--claimed them. They differed from both aswidely as either did from the other. It was true what the padre hadsaid. True that they were Americans; that their father and mother hadsettled in the valley a long time ago; that no one knew whence they hadcome, except that they had crossed the great plains from the eastward;that they were _hereticos_, and that the padres could never succeed inbringing them into the fold of the Church; that these would haveexpelled, or otherwise punished them, but for the interference of themilitary Comandante; and furthermore, that both were always regarded bythe common people of the settlement with a feeling of superstitiousdread. Latterly this feeling, concentrated on the mother of Carlos, hadtaken a new shape, and they looked upon her as a _hechicera_--a witch--and crossed themselves devoutly whenever she met them. This was notoften, for it was rare that she made her appearance among theinhabitants of the valley. Her presence at the fiesta of San Juan wasthe act of Carlos, who had been desirous of giving a day's amusement tothe mother and sister he so much loved. 

Their American origin had much to do with the isolation in which theylive. Since a period long preceding that time, bitter jealousy existedbetween the Spano-Mexican and Anglo-American races. This feeling hadbeen planted by national animosity, and nursed and fomented bypriestcraft. Events that have since taken place had already cast theirshadows over the Mexican frontier; and Florida and Louisiana wereregarded as but steps in the ladder of American aggrandisement; but theunderstanding of these matters was of course confined to the moreintelligent; but all were imbued with the bad passions of internationalhate. 

The family of the cibolero suffered under the common prejudice, and onthat account lived almost wholly apart from the inhabitants of thevalley. What intercourse they had was mostly with the native Indianpopulation--the poor Tagnos, who felt but little of this anti-Americanfeeling. 

If we enter the rancho of Carlos we shall see the fair-haired Rositaseated upon a _petate_, and engaged in weaving rebosos. The piece ofmechanism which serves her for a loom consists of only a few pieces ofwood rudely carved. So simple is it that it is hardly just to call it amachine. Yet those long bluish threads stretched in parallel lines, andvibrating to the touch of her nimble fingers, will soon be woven into abeautiful scarf to cover the head of some coquettish poblana of thetown. None in the valley can produce such rebosos as the cibolero'ssister. So much as he can beat all the youth in feats of horsemanship, so much does she excel in the useful art which is her source ofsubsistence. 

There are but two rooms in the rancho, and that is one more than will befound in most of its fellows. But the delicate sentiment still existsin the Saxon mind. The family of the cibolero are not yet Indianised. 

The kitchen is the larger apartment and the more cheerful, becauselighted by the open door. In it you will see a small "brazero, " oraltar-like fireplace--half-a-dozen earthen "ollas, " shaped like urns--some gourd-shell cups and bowls--a tortilla-stone, with its short legsand inclined surface--some _petates_ to sit upon--some buffalo-robes fora similar purpose--a bag of maize--some bunches of dried herbs, andstrings of red and green chile--but no pictures of saints; and perhapsit is the only house in the whole valley where your eye will _not_ begratified by a sight of these. Truly the family of the cibolero are"hereticos. "

Not last you will see an old woman seated near the fire, and smoking_punche_ in a pipe! A strange old woman is she, and strange no doubther history but that is revealed to no one. Her sharp, lank features;her blanched, yet still luxuriant hair; the wild gleam of her eyes; allrender her appearance singular. Others than the ignorant could not failto fancy her a being different from the common order. No wonder, then, that these regard her as "una hechicera!"

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. 

Rosita knelt upon the floor, passing her little hand-shuttle through thecotton-woof. Now she sang--and sweetly she sang--some merry air of theAmerican backwoods that had been taught her by her mother; anon someromantic lay of Old Spain--the "Troubadour, " perhaps--a fine piece ofmusic, that gives such happy expression to the modern song "Love not. "This "Troubadour" was a favourite with Rosita; and when she took up herbandolon, and accompanied herself with its guitar-like notes, thelistener would be delighted. 

She was now singing to beguile the hours and lighten her task; andalthough not accompanied by any music, her silvery voice sounded sweetand clear. 

The mother had laid aside her pipe of _punche_, and was busy as Rositaherself. She spun the threads with which the rebosos were woven. Ifthe loom was a simple piece of mechanism, much more so was thespinning-machine--the "huso, " or "malacate"--which was nothing more orless than the "whirligig spindle. " Yet with this primitive apparatusdid the old dame draw out and twist as smooth a thread as ever issuedfrom the "jenny. "

"Poor dear Carlos! One, two, three, four, five, six--six notches I havemade--he is just in his sixth day. By this time he will be over theLlano, mother. I hope he will have good luck, and get well treated ofthe Indians. "

"Never fear, nina--my brave boy has his father's rifle, and knows how touse it--well he does. Never fear for Carlos!"

"But then, mother, he goes in a new direction! What if he fall in witha hostile tribe?"

"Never fear, nina! Worse enemies than Indians has Carlos--worse enemiesnearer home--cowardly slaves! they hate us--both _Gachupinos_ and_Criollos_ hate us--Spanish dogs! they hate our Saxon blood!"

"Oh, mother, say not so! They are not _all_ our enemies. We have somefriends. "

Rosita was thinking of Don Juan. 

"Few--few--and far between! What care I while my brave son is there?He is friend enough for us. Soft heart--brave heart--strong arm--wholike my Carlos? And the boy loves his old mother--his strange oldmother, as these _pelados_ think her. He still loves his old mother. Ha! ha! ha! What, then, cares she for friends? Ha! ha! ha!"

Her speech ended in a laugh of triumph, showing how much she exulted inthe possession of such a son. 

"O my! what a _carga_, mother! He never had such a carga before! Iwonder where Carlos got all the money?"

Rosita did not know exactly where; but she had some fond suspicions asto who had stood her brother's friend. 

"_Ay de mi_!" she continued; "he will be very rich if he gets a goodmarket for all those fine things--he will bring back troops of mules. How I shall long for his return! One--two--three--six--yes, there arebut six notches in the wood. Oh! I wish it were full along bothedges--I do!"

Rosita's eyes, us she said this, were bent upon a thin piece ofcedar-wood that hung against the wall, and upon which six little notcheswere observable. That was her clock and calendar, which was to receivea fresh mark each day until the cibolero's return--thus keeping herinformed of the exact time that had elapsed since his departure. 

After gazing at the cedar-wood for a minute or two, and trying to makethe six notches count seven, she gave it up, and went on with herweaving. 

The old woman, laying down her spindle, raised the lid of an earthen"olla" that stood over a little fire upon the brazero. From the potproceeded a savoury steam; for it contained a stew of _tasajo_ cut intosmall pieces, and highly seasoned with _cebollas_ (Spanish onions) and_chile Colorado_ (red capsicum). 

"Nina, the _guisado_ is cooked, " said she, after lifting a portion ofthe stew on a wooden spoon, and examining it; "let us to dinner!"

"Very well, mother, " replied Rosita, rising from her loom; "I shall makethe tortillas at once. "

Tortillas are only eaten warm--that is, are fit only for eating whenwarm--or fresh from the "_comal_. " They are, therefore, to be bakedimmediately before the meal commences, or during its continuance. 

Rosita set the olla on one side, and placed the comal over the coals. Another olla, which contained maize--already boiled soft--was broughtforward, and placed beside the "metate, " or tortilla-stone; and then, bythe help of an oblong roller--also of stone--a portion of the boiledmaize was soon reduced to snow-white paste. The metate and roller werenow laid aside, and the pretty, rose-coloured fingers of Rosita werethrust into the paste. The proper quantity for a "tortilla" was takenup, first formed into a round ball, and then clapped out between thepalms until it was only a wafer's thickness. Nothing remained but tofling it on the hot surface of the comal, let it lie but for an instant, then turn it, and in a moment more it was ready for eating. 

These operations, which required no ordinary adroitness, were performedby Rosita with a skill that showed she was a practised "tortillera. "

When a sufficient number were piled upon the plate, Rosita desisted fromher labour, and her mother having already "dished" the guisado, bothcommenced their repast, eating without knife, fork, or spoon. Thetortillas, being still warm, and therefore capable of being twisted intoany form, served as a substitute for all these contrivances ofcivilisation, which in a Mexican rancho are considered superfluousthings. 

Their simple meal was hardly over when a very unusual sound fell upontheir ears. 

"Ho! what's that?" cried Rosita, starting to her feet, and listening. 

The sound a second time came pealing through the open door and windows. 

"I declare it's a bugle!" said the girl. "There must be soldiers. "

She ran first to the door, and then up to the cactus-fence. She peeredthrough the interstices of the green columns. 

Sure enough there were soldiers. A troop of lancers was marching bytwos down the valley, and not far off. Their glittering armour, and thepennons of their lances, gave them a gay and attractive appearance. AsRosita's eyes fell upon them, they were wheeling into line, halting, asthey finished the movement, with their front to the rancho, and not ahundred paces from the fence. The house was evidently the object oftheir coming to a halt. 

What could soldiers want there? This was Rosita's first reflection. Atroop often passed up and down the valley, but never came near therancho, which, as already stated, was far from the main road. Whatbusiness could the soldiers be upon, to lead them out of their usualtrack?

Rosita asked herself these questions; then ran into the house and askedher mother. Neither could answer them; and the girl turned to thefence, and again looked through. 

As she did so she saw one of the soldiers--from his finer dressevidently an officer--separate from the rest, and come galloping towardsthe house. In a few moments he drew near, and, reining his horse closeup to the fence, looked over the tops of the cactus-plants. 

Rosita could just see his plumed hat, and below it his face, but sheknew the face at once. It was that of the officer who on the day of SanJuan had ogled her so rudely. She knew he was the Comandante Vizcarra. 

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. 

The officer, from his position, had a full view of the girl as she stoodin the little enclosure of flowers. She had retreated to the door, andwould have gone inside, but she turned to call off Cibolo, a largewolf-dog, who was barking fiercely, and threatening the new-comer. 

The dog, obedient to her voice, ran back into the house growling, but byno means satisfied. He evidently wanted to try his teeth on the shanksof the stranger's horse. 

"Thank you, fair Senorita, " said the officer. "It is very kind of youto protect me from that fierce brute. I would he were the only clangourI had to fear in this house. "

"What have you to fear, Senor?" inquired Rosita, with some surprise. 

"_Your eyes_, sweet girl: more dangerous than the sharp teeth of yourdog, --they have already wounded me. "

"Cavallero, " replied Rosita, blushing and averting her face, "you havenot come here to jest with a poor girl. May I inquire what is yourbusiness?"

"Business I have none, lovely Rosita, but to see _you_, --nay, do notleave me!--I _have_ business--that is, I am thirsty, and halted for adrink: you will not refuse me a cup of water, fair Senorita?"

These last phrases, broken and hastily delivered, were meant to restrainthe girl from cutting short the interview, which she was about to do byentering the house. Vizcarra was not thirsty, neither did he wish forwater; but the laws of hospitality would compel the girl to bring it, and the act might further his purposes. 

She, without replying to his complimentary harangue, stepped into thehouse, and presently returned with a gourd-shell filled with water. Carrying it to the gate-like opening of the fences, she presented it tohim, and stood waiting for the vessel. 

Vizcarra, to make his request look natural, forced down several gulps ofthe fluid, and then, throwing away the rest, held out the gourd. Thegirl stretched forth her hand to receive it, but he still held it fast, gazing intently and rudely upon her. 

"Lovely senorita, " he said, "may I not kiss that pretty hand that hasbeen so kind to me?"

"Sir! please return me the cup. "

"Nay, not till I have paid for my drink. You will accept this?"

He dropped a gold onza into the gourd. 

"No, Senor, I cannot accept payment for what is only an act of duty. Ishall not take your gold, " she added, firmly. 

"Lovely Rosita! you have already taken my heart, why not this?"

"I do not understand you, Senor; please put back your money, and let mehave the cup. "

"I shall not deliver it up, unless you take it with its contents. "

"Then you must keep it, Senor, " replied she, turning away. "I must tomy work. "

"Nay, further, Senorita!" cried Vizcarra; "I have another favour toask, --a light for my cigar? Here, take the cup! See! the coin is nolonger in it! You will pardon me for having offered it?"

Vizcarra saw that she was offended, and by this apology endeavoured toappease her. 

She received the gourd-shell from his hands, and then went back to thehouse to bring him the light he had asked for. 

Presently she reappeared with some red coals upon a small "brazero. "

On reaching the gate she was surprised to see that the officer haddismounted, and was fastening his horse to a stake. 

As she offered him the brazero, he remarked, "I am wearied with my ride;may I beg, Senorita, you will allow me a few minutes' shelter from thehot sun?"

Though annoyed at this request, the girl could only reply in theaffirmative; and the next moment, with clattering spur and clankingsabre, the Comandante walked into the rancho. 

Rosita followed him in without a word, and without a word he wasreceived by her mother, who, seated in the corner, took no notice of hisentrance, not even by looking up at him. The dog made a circuit aroundhim, growling angrily, but his young mistress chided him off; and thebrute once more couched himself upon a petate, and lay with eyesgleaming fiercely at the intruder. 

Once in the house, Vizcarra did not feel easy. He saw he was notwelcome. Not a word of welcome had been uttered by Rosita, and not asign of it offered either by the old woman or the dog. The contrarysymptoms were unmistakeable, and the grand officer felt he was anintruder. 

But Vizcarra was not accustomed to care much for the feelings of peoplelike these. He paid but little regard to their likes or dislikes, especially where these interfered with his pleasures; and, afterlighting his cigar, he sat down on a "banqueta, " with as muchnonchalance as if he were in his own quarters. He smoked some timewithout breaking silence. 

Meanwhile Rosita had drawn out her loom, and, kneeling down in front ofit, went on with her work as if no stranger were present. 

"Oh, indeed!" exclaimed the officer, feigning interest in the process, "how very ingenious! I have often wished to see this! a reboso it is?Upon my _word_! and that is how they are woven? Can you finish one in aday, Senorita?"

"_Si, Senor_, " was the curt reply. 

"And this thread, it is cotton; is it not?"

"Si, Senor. "

"It is very prettily arranged indeed. Did you place it so yourself?"

"Si, Senor. "

"Really it requires skill! I should like much to learn how the threadsare passed. "

And as he said this he left his seat upon the banqueta, and, approachingthe loom, knelt down beside it. 

"Indeed, very singular and ingenious. Ah, now, do you think, prettyRosita, you could teach me?"

The old woman, who was seated with her eyes bent upon the ground, started at hearing the stranger pronounce her daughter's name, andglanced around at him. 

"I am really serious, " continued he; "do you think you could teach methis useful art?"

"No, Senor!" was the laconic reply. 

"Oh! surely I am not so stupid! I think I could learn it--it seems onlyto hold this thing so, "--here he bent forward, and placed his hand uponthe shuttle, so as to touch the fingers of the girl, --"and then put itbetween the threads in this manner; is it not--?"

At this moment, as if carried away by his wild passions, he seemed toforget himself; and, turning his eyes upon the blushing girl, hecontinued in an under tone, "Sweetest Rosita! I love you, --one kiss, fairest, --one kiss!" and before she could escape from his arms, whichhad already encircled her, he had imprinted a kiss upon her lips!

A scream escaped from the girl, but another, louder and wilder, answeredit from the corner. The old woman sprang up from her crouchingposition, and running across the floor launched herself like a tigressupon the officer! Her long bony fingers flew out, and in an instantwere clutching his throat!

"Off! beldame! off!" cried he, struggling to escape: "off I say; or mysword shall cut short your wretched life, off!--off!--I say!"

Still the old woman clutched and screamed, tearing wildly at his throat, his epaulettes, or whatever she could lay hold of. 

But sharper than her nails were the teeth of the great wolf-dog thatsprang almost simultaneously from his lair, and, seizing the soldier bythe limbs, caused him to bellow out at the top of his voice--

"Without there! Sergeant Gomez! Ho! treason! to the rescue! to therescue!"

"Ay! dog of a Gachupino!" screamed the old woman, --"dog of Spanishblood! you may call your cowardly myrmidons! Oh! that my brave son werehere, or my husband alive! If they were, you would not carry a drop ofyour villain blood beyond the threshold you have insulted!--Go!--go toyour poblanas--your _margaritas_! Go--begone!"

"Hell and furies! This dog--take him off! Ho, there! Gomez! yourpistols. Here! send a bullet through him! Haste! haste!"

And battling with his sabre, the valiant Comandante at length effected aretreat to his horse. 

He was already well torn about the legs, but, covered by the sergeant, he succeeded in getting into the saddle. 

The latter fired off both his pistols at the dog, but the bullets didnot take effect; and the animal, perceiving that his enemies outnumberedhim, turned and ran back into the house. 

The dog was now silent, but the Comandante, as he sat in his saddle, heard a derisive laugh within the rancho. In the clear soft tones ofthat jeering laughter he distinguished the voice of the beautiful guera!

Chagrined beyond measure, he would have besieged the rancho with histroop, and insisted on killing the dog, had he not feared that the causeof his ungraceful retreat might become known to his followers. Thatwould be a mortification he did not desire to experience. 

He returned, therefore, to the troop, gave the word to march, and thecavalcade moved off, taking the backward road to the town. 

After riding at the head of his men for a short while, Vizcarra--whoseheart was filled with anger and mortification--gave some orders to thesergeant, and then rode off in advance, and in full gallop. 

The sight of a horseman in blue manga, passing in the direction of therancho--and whom he recognised as the young ranchero, Don Juan--did notdo much towards soothing his angry spirit. He neither halted nor spoke, but, casting on the latter a malignant glance, kept on. 

He did not slacken his pace until he drew bridle in the saguan of thePresidio. 

His panting horse had to pay for the bitter reflections that torturedthe soul of his master. 

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. 

The first thing which Rosita did, after the noise without had ceased, was to glide forth and peep through the cactus-fence. She had heard thebugle again, and she wished to be sure that the intruders were gone. 

To her joy, she beheld the troop some distance off, defiling up thevalley. 

She ran back into the house and communicated the intelligence to hermother, who had again seated herself, and was quietly smoking her pipeof _punche_. 

"Dastardly ruffians!" exclaimed the latter. "I knew they would be gone. Even an old woman and a dog are enough. Oh, that my brave Carlos hadbeen here! He would have taught that proud Gachupino we were not sohelpless! Ha! that would Carlos!"

"Do not think of it any more, dear mother; I don't think they willreturn. You have frightened them away, --you and our brave Cibolo. Howwell he behaved! But I must see, " she added, hastily casting her eyesround the room; "he may be hurt. Cibolo! Cibolo! here, good fellow!Come, I've got something for you. Ho, brave dog!"

At the call of her well-known voice the dog came forth from hishiding-place, and bounded up, wagging his tail, and glancing kindly inher face. 

The girl stooped down, and, passing her hands through his shaggy coat, examined every part of his body and limbs, in fear all the while ofmeeting with the red stain of a bullet. Fortunately the sergeant's aimhad not been true. Neither wound nor scratch had Cibolo received; andas he sprang around his young mistress, he appeared in perfect healthand spirits. 

A splendid animal he was, --one of those magnificent sheep-dogs of NewMexico, who, though half-wolf themselves, will successfully defend aflock of sheep from the attack of wolves, or even of the more savagebear. The finest sheep-dogs in the world are they, and one of thefinest of his race was Cibolo. 

His mistress, having ascertained that he was uninjured, stepped upon thebanqueta, and reached up towards a singular-looking object that hungover a peg in the wall. The object bore some resemblance to a string ofill-formed sausages. But it was not that, though it was something quiteas good for Cibolo, who, by his sparkling eyes and short pleasedwhimpers, showed that he knew what it was. Yes, Cibolo had not to beinitiated into the mysteries of a string of tasajo. Dried buffalo-meatwas an old and tried favourite; and the moment it reached his jaws, which it did immediately after, he gave proof of this by the earnestmanner in which he set to work upon it. 

The pretty Rosita, still a little apprehensive, once more peeped throughthe cactus-fence to assure herself that no one was near. 

But this time some one _was_ near, and the sight did not cause her anyfear, --quite the contrary. The approach of a young man in a blue manga, mounted upon a richly-caparisoned horse, had a contrary effectaltogether, and Rosita's little heart now beat with confidence. 

This young horseman was Don Juan the ranchero. He rode straight up tothe opening, and seeing the guera cried out in a frank friendly voice, "_Buenos dias, Rosita_!"

The reply was as frank and friendly--a simple return of the salutation--

"_Buenos dias, Don Juan_!"

"How is the Senora your mother to-day?"

"_Muchas gracias_, Don Juan! as usual she is. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!"

"_Hola_!" exclaimed Don Juan. "What are you laughing at, Rosita?"

"Ha! ha! ha! Saw you nothing of the fine soldiers?"

"True, I did. I met the troop as I came down, going up the valley in agallop, and the Comandante riding far ahead, as if the Apaches wereafter him. In truth, I thought they had met the Indios bravos--for Iknow that to be their usual style of riding after an interview withthese gentry. "

"Ha! ha! ha!" still laughed the little blonde, "but did you noticenothing odd about the officer?"

"I think I did. He looked as though he had ridden through thechapparal; but I had scarce a glance at him, he passed so quickly. Hegave _me_ one that was anything but friendly. No doubt he remembers theloss of his gold onzas at San Juan. Ha! ha! But, dear Rosita, what mayyou be laughing at? Have the soldiers been here? Anything happened?"

Rosita now gave an account of the Comandante's visit; how he had calledto light his cigar and get a drink of water; how he had entered thehouse and been attacked by Cibolo, which caused the precipitate retreatto his horse, and his hasty departure from the place. She was silent, however, about the most important particulars. She said nothing of theinsulting speeches which Vizcarra had made--nothing of the kiss. Shefeared the effect of such a communication on Don Juan. She knew herlover was of a hot rash disposition. He would not hear these thingsquietly; he would involve himself in some trouble on her account; andthese considerations prompted her to conceal the cause that had led tothe "scene. " She, therefore, disclosed only the more ludicrous effects, at which she laughed heartily. 

Don Juan, even knowing only so much, was inclined to regard the affairmore seriously. A visit from Vizcarra--a drink of water--light hiscigar--enter the rancho--all very strange circumstances, but not at alllaughable, thought Don Juan. And then to be attacked and torn by thedog--to be driven from the house in such a humiliating manner--inpresence of his own troop, too!--Vizcarra--the vainglorious Vizcarra--the great militario of the place--the hero of a hundred Indian battlesthat never were fought--he to be conquered by a cur! Seriously, thoughtDon Juan, it was not an affair to laugh at. Vizcarra would haverevenge, or try hard to obtain it. 

The young ranchero had other unpleasant thoughts in connexion with thisaffair. What could have brought the Comandante to the rancho? How hadhe found out that interesting abode, --that spot, sequestered as it was, that seemed to him (Don Juan) to be the centre of the world? Who haddirected him that way? What brought the troop out of the main road, their usual route of march?

These were questions which Don Juan put to himself. To have asked themof Rosita would have been to disclose the existence of a feeling hewould rather keep concealed--jealousy. 

And jealous he was at the moment. The drink, she had served him ofcourse, --the cigar, she had lit it for him--perhaps invited him in!Even now she appeared in the highest spirits, and not at all angry atthe visit that had been paid her!

Don Juan's reflections had suddenly grown bitter, and he did not join inthe laugh which his sweetheart was indulging in. 

When after a short while she invited him in, his feelings took a turn, and he became himself again. He dismounted from his horse, and followedRosita through the garden into the house. 

The girl sat down by the loom and continued her work, while the youngranchero was allowed to kneel upon the petate beside her, and converseat will. There was no objection to his occasionally assisting her tostraighten out the woof or untwist a fouled thread; and, on theseoccasions, their fingers frequently met, and seemed to remain longer incontact than was necessary for the unravelling of the knot. 

But no one noticed all this. Rosita's mother was indulging in a siesta;and Cibolo, if he saw anything amiss, said nothing about it to any one, but wagged his tail, and looked good-humouredly at Don Juan, as if heentirely approved of the latter's conduct. 

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. 

When Vizcarra reached his sumptuous quarters, the first thing he did wasto call for wine. It was brought, and he drank freely and with fiercedetermination. 

He thought by that to drown his chagrin; and for a while he succeeded. 

There is relief in wine, but it is only temporary: you may make jealousydrunk and oblivious, but you cannot keep it so. It will be sober assoon--ay, sooner than yourself. Not all the wine that was ever pressedfrom grapes can drown it into a complete oblivion. 

Vizcarra's heart was filled by various passions. There was love--thatis, such love as a libertine feels; jealousy; anger at the coarsehandling he had experienced; wounded self-love, for with his gold-laceand fine plumes he believed himself a conqueror at first sight; and uponthe top of all, bitter disappointment. 

This last was the greater that he did not see how his suit could berenewed. To attempt a similar visit would lead to similar chagrin, --perhaps worse. 

It was plain the girl did not care for him, with all his fine feathersand exalted position. He saw that she was very different from theothers with whom he had had dealings--different from the dark-eyeddoncellas of the valley, most of whom, if not all, would have taken hisonza without a word or a blush!

It was plain to him he could go no more to the rancho. Where, then, washe to meet her--to see her? He had ascertained that she seldom came tothe town--never to the amusements, except when her brother was at home. How and where, then, was he to see her? His was a hopeless case--noopportunity of mending his first _faux pas_--none, any more than if theobject of his pursuit was shut up in the cloisters of a nunnery!Hopeless, indeed! Thus ran his reflections. 

Though uttering this phrase, he had no belief in its reality. He had nointention of ending the affair so easily. He--the lady-killer, Vizcarra--to fail in the conquest of a poor ranchera! He had neverfailed, and would not now. His vanity alone would have urged himfarther in the affair; but he had a sufficient incentive to his strongpassion, --for strong it had now grown. The opposition it had met--thevery difficulty of the situation--only stimulated him to greater energyand earnestness. 

Besides, jealousy was there, and that was another spur to his excitedpride. 

He was jealous of Don Juan. He had noticed the latter on the day of thefiesta. He had observed him in the company of the cibolero and hissister. He saw them talking, drinking, feasting together. He wasjealous _then_; but that was light, for then he still anticipated hisown easy and early triumph. That was quiet to the feeling that torturedhim now--now that _he had failed_--now that he had seen in the very hourof his humiliation that same rival on his road to the rancho--welcome, no doubt--to be told of all that had happened--to join her in jeeringlaughter at his expense--to--Furies! the thought was intolerable. 

For all that the Comandante had no idea of relinquishing his design. There were still means--foul, if not fair--if he could only think ofthem. He wanted some head cooler than his own. Where was Roblado?

"Sergeant! tell Captain Roblado I wish to speak with him. "

Captain Roblado was just the man to assist him in any scheme of thesort. They were equally villains as regarded women; but Vizcarra's_metier_ was of a lighter sort--more of the genteel-comedy kind. Hisforte lay in the seductive process. He made love _a la Don Giovanni_, and carried hearts in what he deemed a legitimate manner; whereasRoblado resorted to any means that would lead most directly to theobject--force, if necessary and safe. Of the two Roblado was thecoarser villain. 

As the Comandante had failed in his way, he was determined to make trialof any other his captain might suggest; and since the latter knew allthe "love stratagems, " both of civilised and savage life, he was justthe man to suggest something. 

It chanced that at this time Roblado wanted counsel himself upon asomewhat similar subject. He had proposed for Catalina, and DonAmbrosio had consented; but, to the surprise of all, the Senorita hadrebelled! She did not say she would _not_ accept Captain Roblado. Thatwould have been too much of a defiance, and might have led to a summaryinterference of paternal authority. But she had appealed to DonAmbrosio for time--she was not ready to be married! Roblado could notthink of time--he was too eager to be rich; but Don Ambrosio hadlistened to his daughter's appeal, and there lay the cause of thecaptain's trouble. 

Perhaps the Comandante's influence with Don Ambrosio might be the meansof overruling this decision and hastening the wished-for nuptials. Roblado was therefore but too eager to lay his superior under anobligation. 

Roblado having arrived, the Comandante explained his case, detailingevery circumstance that had happened. 

"My dear colonel, you did not go properly to work. I am astonished atthat, considering your skill and experience. You dropped like an eagleupon a dovecot, frightening the birds into their inaccessible holes. You should not have gone to the rancho at all. "

"And how was I to see her?"

"In your own quarters; or elsewhere, as you might have arranged it. "

"Impossible!--she would never have consented to come. "

"Not by your sending for her direct; I know that. "

"And how, then?"

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Roblado; "are you so innocent as never to haveheard of such a thing as an `_alcahuete_'?"

"Oh! true--but by my faith I never found use for one. "

"No!--you in your fine style have deemed that a superfluity; but youmight find use for one now. A very advantageous character that, Iassure you--saves much time and trouble--diminishes the chances offailure too. It's not too late. I advise you to try one. If thatfails, you have still another string to your bow. "

We shall not follow the conversation of these ruffians further. Enoughto say that it led into details of their atrocious plans, which, formore than an hour, they sat concocting over their wine, until the wholescheme was set forth and placed in readiness to be carried out. 

It _was_ carried out, in fine, but led to a different ending from whateither anticipated. The "lady" who acted as "alcahuete" soon placedherself _en rapport_ with Rosita; but her success was more equivocalthan that of Vizcarra himself; in fact, I should rather say unequivocal, for there was no ambiguity about it. 

As soon as her designs were made known to Rosita, the lattercommunicated them to her mother; and the scratches which the Comandantehad received were nothing to those which had fallen to the lot of hisproxy. The "alcahuete" had, in fact, to beg for her life before she wasallowed to escape from the terrible Cibolo. 

She would have sought legal revenge, but that the nature of her businessmade it wiser for her to pocket the indignities, and remain silent. 

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. 

"Now, Roblado, " asked the Comandante, "what is the other string to mybow?"

"Can't you guess, my dear colonel?"

"Not exactly, " replied Vizcarra, though he well knew that he could. Itwas not long since the other string had been before his mind. He hadeven thought of it upon the day of his first defeat, and while his angerwas hot and revengeful. And since then, too--often, often. Hisquestion was quite superfluous, for he well knew Roblado's answer wouldbe "force. "

It _was_ "force. " That was the very word. "How?"

"Take a few of your people, go by night, and carry her off. What can bemore simple? It would have been the proper way at first, with such aprude as she! Don't fear the result. It's not so terrible to them. I've known it tried before. Long ere the cibolero can return, she'll beperfectly reconciled, I warrant you. "

"And if not?"

"If not, what have you to fear?"

"The talk, Roblado--the talk. "

"Bah! my dear colonel, you are timid in the matter. You have mismanagedit so far, but that's no reason you should not use tact for the future. It can be done by night. You have chambers here where no one is allowedto enter--some _without windows_, if you need them. Who's to be thewiser? Pick your men--those you can trust. You don't require a wholetroop, and half-a-dozen onzas will tie as many tongues. It's as easy asstealing a shirt. It is only stealing a chemisette. Ha! ha! ha!" andthe ruffian laughed at his coarse simile and coarser joke, in whichlaugh he was joined by the Comandante. 

The latter still hesitated to adopt this extreme measure. Not from anyfineness of feeling. Though scarce so rough a villain as his companion, it was not delicacy of sentiment that restrained him now. He had beenaccustomed all his life to regard with heartless indifference thefeelings of those he had wronged; and it was not out of anyconsideration for the future happiness or misery of the girl that hehesitated now. No, his motive was of a far different character. Roblado said true when he accused him of being timid. He was. It wassheer cowardice that stayed him. 

Not that he feared any bodily punishment would ever reach him for theact. He was too powerful, and the relatives of his intended victim tooweak, to give him any apprehensions on that score. With a little policyhe could administer death, --death to the most innocent of the people, --and give it a show of justice. Nothing was more easy than to causesuspicion of treason, incarcerate, and slay--and particularly at thattime, when both Pueblo revolt and Creole revolution threatened theSpanish rule in America. 

What Vizcarra feared was "talk. " Such an open rape could not well bekept secret for long. It would leak out, and once out it was toopiquant a piece of scandal not to have broad fame: all the town wouldsoon enjoy it. But there was a still more unpleasant probability. Itmight travel beyond the confines of the settlement, perhaps to highquarters, even to the Vice-regal ear! There find we the secret of theComandante's fears. 

Not indeed that the Vice-regal court at the time was a model ofmorality. It would have been lenient enough to any act of despotism ordebauchery done in a quiet way; but such an open act of rapine as thatcontemplated, on the score of policy, could hardly be overlooked. Intruth, Vizcarra's prudence had reason. He could not believe that itwould be possible to keep the thing a secret. Some of the rascalsemployed might in the end prove traitors. True, they would be his ownsoldiers, and he might punish them for it at his will, but whatsatisfaction would that give him? It would be locking the stable afterthe steed had been stolen!

Even without their playing him false, how could he hope to keep theaffair concealed? First, there was an angry brother. True, he was outof the way; but there was a jealous lover on the ground, and the brotherwould return in time. The very act of the rape would point to him, Vizcarra. His visit, the attempt of the "alcahuete, " and the carryingoff of the girl, would all be pieced together, and put down to hiscredit; and the brother--such a one--and such a lover too--would not besilent with their suspicious. He might take measures to get rid ofboth, but these measures must needs be violent and dangerous. 

Thus reasoned Vizcarra with himself, and thus he argued with Roblado. Not that he wished the latter to dissuade him--for the end he desiredwith all his heart--but in order that by their united wisdom some safermeans of reaching it might be devised. 

And a safer plan _was_ devised. Roblado, deeper in head, as well asbolder in heart, conceived it. Bringing his glass to the table with asudden stroke, he exclaimed--

"_Vamos_, Vizcarra! By the Virgin, I have it!"

"_Bueno_--_bravo_!"

"You may enjoy your sweetheart within twenty four hours, if you wish, and the sharpest scandalmonger in the settlement will be foiled; atleast, you will have nothing to fear. What a devil of a luckythought!--the very thing itself, amigo!"

"Don't keep me in suspense, camarado! your plan! your plan!"

"Stop till I've had a gulp of wine. The very thought of such a glorioustrick makes me thirsty. "

"Drink then, drink!" cried Vizcarra, filling out the wine, with a lookof pleasant anticipation. 

Roblado emptied the goblet at a draught, and then, leaning nearer to theComandante, he detailed what he had conceived in a low and confidentialtone. It seemed to satisfy his listener, who, when the other hadfinished, uttered the word "Bravo!" and sprang to his feet like one whohad received some joyful news. He walked back and forth for someminutes in an excited manner, and then, bursting into a loud laugh, hecried out, "_Carrambo_, comrade! you _are_ a tactician! The great Condehimself would not have shown such strategy. _Santisima Virgen_! it isthe very master-stroke of design; and I promise you, camarado, it shallhave speedy execution. "

"Why delay? Why not set about it at once?"

"True, --at once let us prepare for this _pleasant masquerade_!"

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. 

Circumstances were arising that would be likely to interrupt theComandante and his captain in the execution of their design. At leastso it might have been supposed. In less than twenty-four hours afterthe conversation described, a rumour of Indian incursions was carried tothe town, and spread through every house in the valley. The rumour saidthat a band of "Indios bravos, "--whether Apache, Yuta, or Comanche, wasnot stated, --had made their appearance near the settlement, in full_war-paint and costume_!

This of course denoted hostile intentions, and an attack might beexpected in some part of the settlement. The first rumour was followedby one still more substantial, --that the Indians had attacked someshepherds in the upper plain, not far from the town itself. Theshepherds had escaped, but their dogs had been killed, and a largenumber of sheep driven off to the mountain fastnesses of the marauders!

This time the report was more definite. The Indians were Yutas, andbelonged to a band of that tribe that had been hunting to the east ofthe Pecos, and who had no doubt resolved upon this plundering expeditionbefore returning to their _home_, near the heads of the Del Norte. Theshepherds had seen them distinctly, and knew the _Yuta paint_. 

That the Indians were Yutas was probable enough. The same tribe hadlately made a foray upon the settlements in the fine valley of Taos. They had heard of the prosperous condition of San Ildefonso, and hencetheir hostile visit. Besides, both Apaches and Comanches were _en paz_with the settlement, and had for some years confined themselves toravaging the provinces of Coahuila and Chihuahua. No provocation hadbeen given to these tribes to recommence hostilities, nor had they givenany signs of such an intention. 

Upon the night of the same day in which the sheep were carried off, amore important robbery was committed. That took place in the settlementitself. A large number of cattle were driven off from a grazing-farmnear the lower end of the valley. The Indians had been seen in the act, but the frightened vaqueros were but too glad to escape, and shutthemselves up in the buildings of the farm. 

No murders had as yet been committed, but that was because no resistancehad been made to the spoliations. Nor had any houses been yet attacked. Perhaps the Indians were only a small band; but there was no knowinghow soon their numbers might be increased, and greater outragesattempted. 

The people of the valley, as well as those in the town, were now in astate of excitement. Consternation prevailed everywhere. Those wholived in the scattered ranchos forsook their homes during the night, andbetook themselves to the town and the larger haciendas for shelter. These last were shut up as soon as darkness approached, and regularsentries posted upon their azoteas, who kept watch until morning. Theterror of the inhabitants was great, --the greater because for a longperiod they had lived on good terms with the Indios bravos, and a visitfrom them was novel as unexpected. 

No wonder that they were alarmed. They had cause for it. They wellknew that in these hostile incursions the savage enemy acts with theutmost barbarity, --murdering the men, and sparing only the youngerwomen, whom they carry off to a cruel captivity. They well knew this, for at that very date there were thousands of their countrywomen in thehands of the wild Indians, lost to their families and friends for ever!No wonder that there was fear and trembling. 

The Comandante seemed particularly on the alert. At the head of histroops he scoured the neighbouring plains, and made incursions towardsthe spurs of the mountains. At night his patrols were in constantmotion up and down the valley. The people were admonished to keepwithin their houses, and barricade their doors in case of attack. Alladmired the zeal and activity of their military protectors. 

The Comandante won golden opinions daily. This was the first realopportunity he had had of showing them his "pluck, " for there had beenno alarm of Indians since he arrived. In the time of his predecessorseveral had taken place, and on these occasions it was remembered thatthe troops, instead of going abroad to search for the "barbaros, " shutthemselves up in the garrison till the latter were gone clear out of thevalley, after having carried off all the cattle they could collect!What a contrast in the new Comandante! What a brave officer was ColonelVizcarra!

This excitement continued for several days. As yet no murders had beencommitted, nor any women, carried off; and as the Indians had onlyappeared in the night, the probability was that they were in but smallforce, --some weak band of robbers. Had it been otherwise, they wouldhave long since boldly shown themselves by daylight, and carried ontheir depredations on a much larger scale. 

During all this time the mother and sister of the cibolero lived intheir lone rancho without any protection, and were, perhaps, less indread of the Indians than any other family in the whole valley. Thiswas to be attributed to several causes. First, their training, whichhad taught them to make light of dangers that terrified their lesscourageous neighbours. Secondly, their poor hut was not likely to temptthe cupidity of Indian robbers, whose design was evidently plunder. There were too many well-stocked ranchos a little farther up the valley. The Indians would not be likely to molest them. 

But there was still a better reason for this feeling, of confidence ontheir part, and that was somewhat of a family secret. Carlos, havingtraded with all the neighbouring tribes, was known to the Indians, andwas on terms of friendship with nearly every one of their chiefs. Onecause of this friendship was, that Carlos was known to them as an_American_. Such was their feeling in regard to Americans that, at thistime, and for a long period after, both the trappers and traders of thatnation could pass through the whole Apache and Comanche range in thesmallest parties without molestation, while large caravans of Mexicanswould be attacked and robbed! It was only long after that these tribesassumed a fierce hostility against the Saxon whites; and this wasbrought about by several acts of barbarism committed by parties of thewhites themselves. 

In his dealings with the Indios bravos, then, the cibolero had notforgotten his little rancho at home; and he had always counselled hismother and sister not to fear the Indians in his absence, assuring themthat these would not molest them. 

The only tribe with which Carlos was not on friendly terms was theJicarilla, a small and miserable band that lived among the mountainsnorth-east of Santa Fe. They were a branch of the Apaches, but livedapart, and had little in common with the great freebooters of thesouth--the _Mezcaleros_ and _Wolf-eaters_. 

For these reasons, then, the little Rosita and her mother, though notentirely without apprehension, were yet less frightened by the currentrumours of the time than their neighbours. 

Every now and then Don Juan rode over to the rancho, and advised them tocome and stay at his house--a large strong building well defended byhimself and his numerous peons. But the mother of Rosita only laughedat the fears of Don Juan; and Rosita herself, from motives of delicacy, of course refused to accede to his proposal. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was the third night from the time the Indians had been first heardof. The mother and daughter had laid aside their spindle and loom, andwere about to retire to their primitive couches on the earthen floor, when Cibolo was seen to spring from his petate, and rush towards thedoor, growling fiercely. 

His growl increased to a bark--so earnest, that it was evident some onewas outside. The door was shut and barred; but the old woman, withouteven inquiring who was there, pulled out the bar, and opened the door. 

She had scarcely shown herself when the wild whoop of Indians rang inher ears, and a blow from a heavy club prostrated her upon thethreshold. Spite the terrible onset of the dog, several savages, in allthe horrid glare of paint and feathers, rushed into the house yellingfearfully, and brandishing their weapons; and in less than five minutes'time, the young girl, screaming with terror, was borne in their arms tothe outside of the rancho, and there tied upon the back of a mule. 

The few articles which the Indians deemed of any value were carried awaywith them; and the savages, after setting fire to the rancho, made offin haste. 

Rosita saw the blaze of the rancho as she sat tied upon the mule. Shehad seen her mother stretched upon the door-step, and was in factdragged over her apparently lifeless form; and the roof was now inflames!

"My poor mother!" she muttered in her agony; "O God! O God! what willbecome of my poor mother?"

Almost simultaneously with this attack, or a little after it, theIndians appeared before the house of the ranchero, Don Juan; but, afteryelling around it and firing several arrows over the azotea and againstthe door, they retired. 

Don Juan was apprehensive for his friends at the rancho. As soon as theIndians had gone away from about his own premises, he stole out; and, trusting to the darkness, made his way in that direction. 

He had not gone far before the blaze of the building came under hiseyes, causing the blood to rush cold through his veins. 

He did not stop. He was afoot, but he was armed, and he dashed madlyforward, resolved to defend Rosita, or die!

In a few minutes he stood before the door of the rancho; and there, tohis horror, lay the still senseless form of the mother, her wild andghastly features illuminated by the blaze from the roof. The fire hadnot yet reached her, though in a few moments more she would have beenburied in the flames!

Don Juan drew her forth into the garden, and then rushed franticallyaround calling on Rosita. 

But there was no reply. The crackling blaze--the sighing of the nightwind--the hooting of the cliff owl, and the howling of the _coyote_, alone answered his anxious calls. 

After remaining until all hope had vanished, he turned towards theprostrate body, and knelt down to examine it. To his surprise there wasstill life, and, after her lips had been touched with water, the oldwoman showed symptoms of recovery. She had only been stunned by theheavy blow. 

Don Juan at length lifted her in his arms, and taking the well-knownpath returned with his burden, and with a heavy heart, to his own house. 

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Next morning the news of the affair was carried through all thesettlement, adding to the terror of the inhabitants. The Comandantewith a large troop galloped conspicuously through the town; and aftermuch loud talk and empty demonstrations, went off on the trail which theIndians were supposed to have taken. 

Long before night the troopers returned with their usual report, "_losbarbaros no pudimos alcanzar_. " (We could not overtake the savages. )

They said that they had followed the trail to the Pecos, where theIndians had crossed, and that the savages had continued on towards theLlano Estacado. 

This piece of news gave some relief, for it was conjectured, if themarauders had gone in that direction, their plundering would end. Theyhad probably proceeded to join the rest of their tribe, known to besomewhere in that quarter. 

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. 

Vizcarra and his gay lancers passed up the valley, on their return fromthe pursuit at an early hour of the evening. 

Scarcely had a short hour elapsed when another cavalcade, dusty andwayworn, was seen moving along the same road, and heading towards thesettlements. It could hardly be termed a cavalcade, as it consisted ofan atajo of pack-mules, with some carretas drawn by oxen. One man onlywas on horseback, who, by his dress and manner, could be recognised asthe owner of the atajo. 

Despite the fatigue of a long march, despite the coating of dust whichcovered both horse and rider, it was not difficult to tell who thehorseman was. Carlos the cibolero!

Thus far had he reached on his homeward way. Another stretch of fivemiles along the dusty road, and it would halt before the door of hishumble rancho. Another hour, and his aged mother, his fond sister, would fling themselves into his arms, and receive his affectionateembrace!

What a surprise it would be! They would not be expecting him forweeks--long weeks. 

And what a surprise he had for them in another way! His wonderful luck!The superb mulada and cargo, --quite a little fortune indeed! Rositashould have a new dress, --not a coarse woollen nagua, but one of silk, real foreign silk, and a manta, and the prettiest pair of satinslippers--she should wear fine stockings on future fiesta days--sheshould be worthy of his friend Don Juan. His old mother, too--sheshould drink tea, coffee, or chocolate, which she preferred--no more_atole_ for her!

The rancho was rude and old--it should come down, and another and betterone go up in its place--no--it would serve as a stable for the horse, and the new rancho should be built beside it. In fact, the sale of hismulada would enable him to buy a good strip of land, and stock it welltoo. 

What was to hinder him to turn ranchero, and farm or graze on his ownaccount? It would be far more respectable, and would give him a higherstanding in the settlement. Nothing to hinder him. He would do so; butfirst one more journey to the plains--one more visit to his Wacofriends, who had promised him--Ha! it was this very promise that was thekeystone of all his hopes. 

The silk dress for Rosita, the luxuries for his old mother, the newhouse, the farm, were all pleasant dreams to Carlos; but he indulged adream of a still pleasanter nature--a dream that eclipsed them all; andhis hopes of its realisation lay in that one more visit to the countryof the Wacoes. 

Carlos believed that his poverty alone was the barrier that separatedhim from Catalina. He knew that her father was not, properly speaking, one of the "rico" class. True, he was a rico now: but only a few yearsago he had been a poor "gambucino"--poor as Carlos himself. In fact, they had once been nearer neighbours; and in his earlier days DonAmbrosio had esteemed the boy Carlos fit company for the littleCatalina. 

What objection, then, could he have to the cibolero--provided the lattercould match him in fortune? "Certainly none, " thought Carlos. "If Ican prove to him that I, too, am a `rico, ' he will consent to mymarrying Catalina. And why not? The blood in my veins--so says mymother--is as good as that of any hidalgo. And, if the Wacoes have toldme the truth, one more journey and Carlos the cibolero will be able toshew as much gold as Don Ambrosio the miner!"

These thoughts had been running in his mind throughout the whole of hishomeward journey. Every day--every hour--did he build his aery castles;every hour did he buy the silk dress for Rosita--the tea, coffee, andchocolate for his mother; every hour did he erect the new rancho, buythe farm, show a fortune in gold-dust, and demand Catalina from herfather! _Chateaux en Espagne_!

Now that he was close to his home, these pleasant visions grew brighterand seemed nearer; and the countenance of the cibolero was radiant withjoy. What a fearful change was soon to pass over it!

Several times he thought of spurring on in advance, the sooner to enjoythe luxury of his mother's and sister's welcome; and then he changed hismind again. 

"No, " muttered he to himself; "I will stay by the atajo. I will betterenjoy the triumph. We shall all march up in line, and halt in front ofthe rancho. They will think I have some stranger with me, to whombelong the mules! When I announce them as my own they will fancy that Ihave turned Indian, and made a _raid_ on the southern provinces, with mystout retainers. Ha! ha! ha!" And Carlos laughed at the conceit. 

"Poor little Rosy!" he continued; "she _shall_ marry Don Juan this time!I won't withhold my consent any longer? It would be better, too. He'sa bold fellow, and can protect her while I'm off on the plains again:though one more journey, and I have done with the plains. One morejourney, and I shall change my title from Carlos the cibolero to SenorDon Carlos R--, Ha! ha! ha!"

Again he laughed at the prospect of becoming a "rico, " and beingaddressed as "Don Carlos. "

"Very odd, " thought he, "I don't meet anyone. I don't see a soul uponthe road up or down. Yet it's not late--the sun's above the bluffstill. Where can the people be? And yet the road's covered thick withfresh horse-tracks! Ha! the troops have been here! they have justpassed up! But that's no reason why the people are not abroad; and Idon't see even a straggler! Now I could have believed there was analarm of Indians had I not seen these tracks; but I know very well that, were the Apaches on their war-trail, my Comandante and his Whiskerandoswould never have ventured so far from the Presidio--that I know. 

"Well, there's something extraordinary! I can't make it out. Perhapsthey're all up to the town at some fiesta. Anton, my boy, you know allthe feast-days! Is this one?"

"No, master. "

"And where are all the folks?"

"Can't guess, master! Strange we don't see some!"

"So I was thinking. You don't suppose there have been wild Indians inthe neighbourhood?"

"No, master--_mira_! They're the tracks of the `lanzeros'--only an hourago. No Indians where they are!"

As Antonio said this, both his accent and look had an expression whichguided his master to the true meaning of his words, which mightotherwise have been ambiguous. He did not mean that the fact of thelancers having been on the ground would prevent the Indians fromoccupying it, but exactly the reverse. It was, not "lancers noIndians, " but "Indians no lancers, " that Antonio meant. 

Carlos understood him; and, as this had been his own interpretation ofthe tracks, he burst out into a fit of laughter. 

Still no travellers appeared, and Carlos did not like it. As yet he hadnot thought of any misfortune to those he loved; but the unpeopled roadhad an air of loneliness about it, and did not seem to welcome him. 

As he passed on a feeling of sadness came stealing over him, which afterit had fairly taken possession he could not get rid of. 

He had not yet passed a settlement. There were none before reaching hisown rancho, which, as already stated, was the lowest in the valley. Still the inhabitants fed their flocks far below that; and it was usual, at such an hour, to see them driving their cattle home. He neither sawcattle nor vaqueros. 

The meadows on both sides, where cattle used to graze, were empty! Whatcould it mean?

As he noticed these things an indefinite sense of uneasiness and alarmbegan to creep over him; and this feeling increased until he had arrivedat the turning which led to his own rancho. 

At length he headed around the forking angle of the road; and havingpassed the little coppices of evergreen oaks, came within sight of thehouse. With a mechanical jerk he drew his horse upon his haunches, andsat in the saddle with open jaw and eyes glaring and protruded. 

The rancho he could not see--for the covering interposal columns of thecacti--but through the openings along their tops a black line wasvisible that had an unnatural look, and a strange film of smoke hungover the azotea!

"God of heaven! what can it mean?" cried he, with a choking voice; but, without waiting to answer himself, he lanced the flanks of his horsetill the animal shot off like an arrow. 

The intervening ground was passed; and, flinging himself from thesaddle, the cibolero rushed through the cactus-fence. 

The atajo soon after came up. Antonio hurried through: and there, inside the hot, smoke-blackened walls, half-seated, half-lying on thebanqueta, was his master, his head hanging forward upon his breast, andboth hands nervously twisted in the long curls of his hair. 

Antonio's foot-fall caused him to look up--only for a moment. 

"O God! My mother--my sister!" And, as he repeated the words, his headonce more fell forward, while his broad breast rose and fell inconvulsed heaving. It was an hour of mortal agony; for some secretinstinct had revealed to him the terrible truth. 

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. 

For some minutes Carlos remained stupefied with the shock, and made noeffort to rouse himself. 

A friendly hand laid upon his shoulder caused him to look up; Don Juanthe ranchero was bending over him. 

Don Juan's face wore a look as wretched as his own. It gave him nohope; and it was almost mechanically the words escaped his lips--

"My mother? my sister?"

"Your mother is at my house, " replied Don Juan. 

"And Rosita?"

Don Juan made no reply--the tears were rolling down his cheeks. 

"Come, man!" said Carlos, seeing the other in as much need ofconsolation as himself; "out with it--let me know the worst! Is shedead?"

"No, --no, --no!--I hope not _dead_!"

"Carried off?"

"Alas, yes!"

"By whom?"

"The Indians. "

"You are sure by _Indians_?"

As Carlos asked this question, a look of strange meaning glanced fromhis eyes. 

"Quite sure--I saw them myself--your mother?"

"My mother! What of her?"

"She is safe. She met the savages in the doorway, was knocked senselessby a blow, and saw no more. "

"But Rosita?"

"No one saw her; but certainly she was taken away by the Indians. "

"You are sure they were _Indians_, Don Juan?"

"Sure of it. They attacked my house almost at the same time. They hadpreviously driven off my cattle, and for that, one of my people was onthe look-out. He saw them approach; and, before they got near, we wereshut up and ready to defend ourselves. Finding this, they soon wentoff. Fearing for your people, I stole out as soon as they were gone, and came here. When I arrived the roof was blazing, and your motherlying senseless in the doorway. Rosita was gone! _Madre de Dios_! shewas gone!"

And the young ranchero wept afresh. 

"Don Juan!" said Carlos, in a firm voice; "you have been a friend--abrother--to me and mine. I know you suffer as much as I do. Let therebe no tears! See! mine are dried up! I weep no more--perhaps sleepnot--till Rosita is rescued or revenged. Let us to business, then!Tell me all that is known about these Indians--and quick, Don Juan! Ihave a keen appetite for your news!"

The ranchero detailed the various rumours that had been afloat for thethree or four days preceding--as well as the actual occurrences, --howthe Indians had been first seen upon the upper plain; their encounterwith the shepherds and the driving off of the sheep; their appearance inthe valley, and their raid upon his own cattle--for it was his_ganaderia_ that had suffered--and then the after circumstances alreadyknown to Carlos. 

He also informed the latter of the activity shown by the troops; howthey had followed that morning upon the trail of the robbers; how he haddesired to accompany them with some of his people; and how the requestwas refused by the Comandante. 

"Refused?" exclaimed Carlos, interrogatively. 

"Yes, " replied Don Juan; "he said we would only hinder the troops! Ifancy his motive was his chagrin with me. He does not like me eversince the fiesta. "

"Well! what then?"

"The troops returned but an hour ago. They report that they followedthe trail as far as the Pecos, where it crossed, striking direct for theLlano Estacado; and, as the Indians had evidently gone off to the greatplains, it would have been useless to attempt pursuing them farther. Sothey alleged. 

"The people, " continued Don Juan, "will be only too glad that thesavages have gone away, and will trouble themselves no farther about it. I have been trying to get up a party to follow them, but not one wouldventure. Hopeless as it was, I intended a pursuit with my own people;but, thank God! _you_ have come!"

"Ay, pray God it may not be too late to follow their trail. But no;only last night at midnight, you say? There's been neither rain norhigh wind--it will be fresh as dew; and if ever hound--Ha! where'sCibolo?"

"At my house, the dog is. He was lost, this morning; we thought he hadbeen killed or carried off; but at midday my people found him by therancho here, covered with mud, and bleeding where he had received theprick of a spear. We think the Indians must have taken him along, andthat he escaped from them on the road. "

"It is strange enough--Oh! my poor Rosita!--poor lost sister!--where artthou at this moment?--where?--where?--Shall I ever see you again?--MyGod! my God!"

And Carlos once more sunk back into his attitude of despair. 

Then suddenly springing to his feet, with clenched fist and flashingeyes, he cried out--

"Wide though the prairie plains, and faint the trail of these dastardlyrobbers, yet keen is the _eye_ of Carlos the cibolero! I shall findthee yet--I shall find thee, though it cost me the search of a life. Fear not, Rosita! fear not, sweet sister! I come to your rescue! Ifthou art wronged, woe, woe, to the tribe that has done it!" Thenturning to Don Juan, he continued, --"The night is on--we can do nothingto-night. Don Juan!--friend, brother!--bring me to her--to my mother. "

There is a wild poetry in the language of grief, and there was poetry inthe words of the cibolero; but these bursts of poetic utterance werebrief, and he again returned to the serious reality of his situation. Every circumstance that could aid him in his purposed pursuit wasconsidered and arranged in a sober and practical manner. His arms andaccoutrements, his horse, all were cared for, so as to be ready by theearliest hour of light. His servants, and those of Don Juan, were toaccompany him, and for these horses were also prepared. 

Pack-mules, too, with provisions and other necessaries for a longjourney--for Carlos had no intention of returning without theaccomplishment of his sworn purpose--rescue or revenge. His was nopursuit to be baffled by slight obstacles. He was not going to bringback the report "_no los pudimos alcanzar_" He was resolved to trail therobbers to the farthest point of the prairies--to follow them to theirfastens, wherever that might be. 

Don Juan was with him heart and soul, for the ranchero's interest in theresult was equal to his own--his agony was the same. 

Their peons numbered a score--trusty Tagnos all, who loved theirmasters, and who, if not warriors by trade, were made so by sympathy andzeal. 

Should they overtake the robbers in time, there would be no fear of theresult. From all circumstances known, the latter formed but a weakband. Had this not been the case, they would never have left the valleywith so trifling a booty. Could they be overtaken before joining theirtribe, all might yet be well. They would be compelled to give up boththeir plunder and their captive, and, perhaps, pay dearly for thedistress they had occasioned. Time, therefore, was a most importantconsideration, and the pursuers had resolved to take the trail with theearliest light of the morning. 

Carlos slept not--and Don Juan only in short and feverish intervals. Both sat up in their dresses, --Carlos by the bedside of his mother, who, still suffering from the effects of the blow, appeared to rave in hersleep. 

The cibolero sat silent, and in deep thought. He was busied with plansand conjectures--conjectures as to what tribe of Indians the marauderscould belong to. Apaches or Comanches they were not. He had metparties of both on his return. They treated him in a friendly manner, and they said nothing of hostilities against the people of SanIldefonso. Besides, no bands of these would have been in such smallforce as the late robbers evidently were. Carlos wished it had beenthey. He knew that in such a case, when it was known that the captivewas _his_ sister, she would be restored to him. But no; they hadnothing to do with it. Who then?--the Yutas? Such was the belief amongthe people of the valley, as he had been told by Don Juan. If so, therewas still a hope--Carlos had traded with a branch of this powerful andwarlike tribe. He was also on friendly terms with some of its chiefs, though these were now at war with the more northern settlements. 

But the Jicarillas still returned to his mind. These were Indians of acowardly, brutal disposition, and his mortal foes. They would havescalped him on sight. If his sister was _their_ captive, her lot washard indeed; and the very thought of such a fate caused the cibolero tostart up with a shudder, and clench his hands in a convulsive effort ofpassion. 

It was near morning. The peons were astir and armed. The horses andmules were saddled in the patio, and Don Juan had announced that allwere ready. Carlos stood by the bedside of his mother to take leave. She beckoned him near. She was still weak, for blood had flown freelyfrom her, and her voice was low and feeble. 

"My son, " said she, as Carlos bent over her, "know you what Indians youare going to pursue?"

"No, mother, " replied Carlos, "but I fear they are our enemies theJicarillas. "

"Have the Jicarillas _beards on their faces and jewels on theirfingers_?"

"No mother; why do you ask such a question?--you know they have nobeards! My poor mother!" added he, turning to Don Juan; "this terriblestroke has taken her senses!"

"Follow the trail, then!" she continued, without noticing the lastremark uttered by Carlos in a whisper; "follow the trail--perhaps itwill guide thee to--" and she whispered the rest into his ear. 

"What, mother?" said he, starting, as if at some strange information. "Dost thou think so?"

"I have some suspicion--only _suspicion_--but follow the trail--it willguide thee--follow it, and be satisfied!"

"Do not doubt me, mother; I shall be satisfied of _that_. "

"One promise before you go. Be not rash--be prudent. "

"Fear not, mother! I will. "

"If it be so--"

"If it be so, mother, you'll soon see me back. God bless you!--Myblood's on fire--I cannot stay!--God bless you, mother!--Farewell!"

Next minute the train of mounted men, with Don Juan and Carlos at itshead, passed out of the great gate, and took the road that led out fromthe valley. 

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. 

It was not yet daybreak when the party left the house, but they had notstarted too early. Carlos knew that they could follow the road so faras the lancers had gone, in the darkness; and it would be light enoughby the time they had got to the point where these had turned back. 

Five miles below the house of Don Juan the road forked--one, leadingsouthward, was that by which Carlos had returned the evening before; theother, or left fork, led nearly in a direct line towards the Pecos, where there was a ford. The left fork had been that taken by thetroopers, as their horse-tracks showed. 

It was now day. They could have followed the trail at a gallop, as itwas a much-travelled and well-known path. But the eye of the cibolerowas not bent upon this plain trail, but upon the ground on each side ofit, and this double scrutiny caused him to ride more slowly. 

On both sides were cattle-tracks. These were, no doubt, made by thecattle stolen from Don Juan--in all numbering about fifty. The cibolerosaid they must have passed over the ground two days before. That wouldcorrespond with the time when they had been taken. 

The trackers soon passed the limits of the valley, and entered the plainthrough which runs the Pecos. They were about approaching that streamin a direct line, and were still two miles from its banks, when the dogCibolo, who had been trotting in advance of the party, suddenly turnedto the left, and ran on in that direction. The keen eye of Carlosdetected a new trail upon which the dog was running, and which partedfrom the track of the troopers. It ran in a direction due north. 

What appeared singular both to Carlos and Don Juan was the fact ofCibolo having taken this new route, as it was not marked by a road orpath of any kind, but merely by the footprints of some animals that hadlately passed over it!

_Had Cibolo gone that way before_?

Carlos dismounted to examine the tracks. 

"Four horses and one mule!" he said, speaking to Don Juan. "Two of thehorses shod on the fore feet only; the other two, with the mule, barefoot. All of them mounted--the mule led--perhaps with a pack. 

"_No_!" he added, after a little further examination, "it's not apack-mule!"

It scarce cost the cibolero five minutes to arrive at these conclusions. How he did so was a mystery to most of his companions, --perhaps to all, except the half-blood, Antonio. And yet he was right in everyparticular. 

He continued to scrutinise the new trail for some moments longer. 

"The time corresponds, " said he, still addressing Don Juan. "Theypassed yesterday morning before the dew was dry. You are sure it wasnot midnight when they left your house?"

"Quite sure, " replied the ranchero. "It was still only midnight when Ireturned with your mother from the rancho. I am quite sure of that. "

"One more question, Don Juan: How many Indians, think you, were in theparty that made their appearance at your house--few or many?"

"Not many I think. Two or three only could be heard yelling at once;but the trees prevented us from seeing them. I fancy, from their tracesleft, that the band was a very small one. It might be the same thatburned the rancho. They could have arrived at my house afterwards. There was time enough. "

"I have reason to believe they _were_ the same, " said Carlos, stillbending over the hoof-prints, "and _this may be their trail_. "

"Think you so?" inquired Don Juan. 

"I do. --See--there! Is this not strange?"

The speaker pointed to the dog, who, meanwhile, had returned to thespot, and stood whimpering, and showing an evident desire to proceed bythe trace newly discovered!

"Very strange, " replied Don Juan. "He must have travelled it before!"

"Perhaps so, " said Carlos. "But it will not spoil by an hour's keeping. Let us first see where these valiant troopers have been to. I want toknow that before I leave this main path. Let us on, and briskly!"

All spurred their animals into a gentle gallop, the cibolero leading asbefore. As before, also, his eyes swept the ground on both sides insearch of any trail that might diverge from that on which theytravelled. 

Now and then cross paths appeared, but these were old. No horses hadpassed recently upon them, and he did not slacken his pace to examinethem. 

After a twenty minutes' gallop the party halted upon the bank of thePecos, at the ford. It was plain that the troopers had also haltedthere, and turned back without crossing! But cattle had crossed twodays before--so said the cibolero--and mounted drivers. The tracks ofboth were visible in the mud. Carlos rode through the shallow water toexamine the other side. At a glance he saw that no troops had crossed, but some forty or fifty head of cattle. 

After a long and careful examination, not only of the muddy bank, but ofthe plain above, he beckoned to Don Juan and the rest to ford the streamand join him. 

When Don Juan came up, the cibolero said to him, in a tone full ofintelligence--

"_Amigo_! you stand a fair chance to recover your cattle. "

"Why do you think so?"

"Because their drivers, four in number, have been near this spot notmuch over twenty-four hours ago. The animals, therefore, cannot be faroff. "

"But how know you this?"

"Oh, that is plain enough, " coolly responded the cibolero. "The men whodrove your beasts were mounted on the same horses that made yondertrail. " The speaker indicated the trail which he had halted to examine, and continued, --"Very probably we'll find the herd among the spurs ofthe ceja yonder. "

As Carlos said this, he pointed to a number of ragged ridges that fromthe brow of the Llano Estacado jutted out into the plain. They appearedto be at the distance of some ten miles from the crossing. 

"Shall we push on there?" asked Don Juan. 

The cibolero did not give an immediate answer. He had evidently notdecided yet, and was debating in his own mind what course to pursue. 

"Yes, " he replied, at length, in a solemn and deliberate voice. "It isbetter to be sure. With all my terrible suspicions, I may be wrong. _She_ may be wrong. _The two trails may yet come together_. "

The latter part of this was spoken in soliloquy, and, though it reachedthe ears of Don Juan, he did not comprehend its meaning. He was aboutto ask his companion for an explanation, when the latter, suddenlycollecting his energies, struck the spurs into his horse, and, callingto them to follow, galloped off upon the cattle-track. 

After a run of ten miles, which was made in less than an hour, the partyentered a large ravine or point of the plain that protruded, like a deepbay, into the mountain-like side of the high steppe. As they enteredthis, a singular spectacle came under their eyes. The ravine, near itsbottom, was covered with zopilotes, or black vultures. Hundreds of themwere perched upon the rocks, or wheeling overhead in the air; andhundreds of others hopped about upon the plain, flapping their broadwings as if in full enjoyment. The coyote, the larger wolf, and thegrizzly bear, were seen moving over the ground, or quarrelling with eachother, though they need not have quarrelled--the repast was plenteousfor all. Between forty and fifty carcases were strewed over the ground, which Don Juan and his vaqueros as they drew near recognised as thecarcases of his own cattle. 

"I told you so, Don Juan, " said Carlos, in a voice now husky withemotion; "but I did not expect this. What a deep-laid plan! They mighthave strayed back! and that--oh! horrible villain! My mother wasright--_it is he! it is he_!"

"Who, Carlos! What mean you?" inquired Don Juan, wondering at thesestrange and incongruous phrases. 

"Ask me not now, Don Juan! Presently I shall tell you all--presently, but not now; my brain's too hot--my heart is burning: presently--presently. The mystery is past--I know all--I had suspicion from thefirst--I saw him at the fiesta--I saw his bad ruffian gaze bent uponher. Oh, despot! I'll tear your heart out! Come, Don Juan!--Antonio--comrades!--After me on the trail! It's easily followed. _I know whereit will lead_--well I know. --On!"

And driving the spur into the flanks of his horse, the cibolero gallopedoff in the direction of the crossing. 

The wondering troop--Don Juan among the rest--set their animals inmotion, and galloped after. 

There was no halt made at the ford. Carlos dashed his horse through thewater, and the rest imitated his example. There was no halt either onarriving at the trace that led northward. The dog scampered along it, yelping at intervals; and the troop kept close after his heels. 

They had not followed it quite a mile when it suddenly turned at rightangles, and _took the direction of the town_!

Don Juan and the rest expressed surprise, but there was nothing in allthis to surprise the cibolero. _He_ was expecting that. The expressionon his face was not that of astonishment. It was far different--farmore terrible to behold!

His eyes were sunk in their sockets and gleaming with a lurid light, asif fire was burning within them. His teeth were firmly set--his lipswhite and tightly drawn, as if he was meditating, or had already made, some desperate resolve. He scarce looked at the tracks, he needed theirguidance no longer. _He knew there he was going_!

The trail crossed a muddy arroyo. The dog sweltered through, and thered clay adhered to his shaggy coat. It corresponded with that withwhich he had been already besmeared!

Don Juan noticed the circumstance, and pointed it out. 

"He has been here before!" said he. 

"I know it, " replied Carlos; "I know it all--all. There is no mysterynow. Patience, amigo! You shall know all, but now let me _think_. Ihave no time for aught else. "

The trail still led in the direction of the town. It did not re-enterthe valley, but passed over a sloping country to the upper plain, andthen ran nearly parallel with the bluffs. 

"Master!" said Antonio, riding up by the side of Carlos, "these are notthe tracks of Indian horses, unless they have stolen them. Two of themare _troop_ horses. I know the _berradura_ well. They are _officers'horses_, too--I can tell that from the shoeing. "

The cibolero showed no signs of being astonished by this information, nor made he reply. He seemed engrossed with his thoughts. 

Antonio, thinking he had not been heard or understood, repeated what hehad said. 

"Good Antonio!" said the cibolero, turning his eyes on his follower, "doyou think me blind or stupid?"

This was not said angrily. Antonio understood its meaning, and fellback among his companions. 

On moved the trackers--now at a gallop, now more slowly, for theiranimals were by this time somewhat jaded. On they moved, still keepingthe trail, and still heading straight for the town!

At length they reached a point where a road from the upper plain led bya zigzag path to the valley below. It was the same by which Carlos hadascended to perform his great feat on the day of the fiesta. At the topof the descent Carlos ordered the party to halt, and with Don Juan rodeforward to the edge of the projecting cliff--at the very spot where hehad exhibited his skill--the cliff of _Nina Perdida_. 

Both drew up when near the edge. They commanded a full view of thevalley and the town. 

"Do you see that building?" inquired the cibolero, pointing to thedetached pile which lay between them and the town. 

"The Presidio?"

"The Presidio. "

"Yes--what of it?"

"_She is there_!"

CHAPTER THIRTY. 

At that moment upon the _azotea_ a man was pacing to and fro. He wasnot a sentinel, though at opposite angles of the building two of thesecould be seen who carried carbines--their heads and shoulders justappearing above the crenated top of the battlement towers. 

The man _en promenade_ was an officer, and the part of the azotea _upon_which he moved was the roof of the officers' quarter, separated from therest by a wall of equal height with the parapet. It was, moreover, asacred precinct--not to be disturbed by the tread of common troopers onordinary occasions. It was the "quarterdeck" of the Presidio. 

The officer was in full dress, though not on any duty; but a singleglance at the style and cut of his uniform would convince any one thathe was a "dandy soldier, " and loved to appear at all times in finefeathers. The gold-lace and bright-coloured broad-cloth seemed toaffect him as his rich plumage does the peacock. Every now and again hepaused in his promenade, glanced down at his lacquered boots, examinedthe tournure of his limbs, or feasted his eyes upon the jewels thatstudded his delicate white fingers. 

He was no beauty withal nor hero either; but that did not prevent himfrom indulging in the fancy that he was both--a combination of Mars andApollo. 

He was a colonel in the Spanish army, however, and Comandante of thePresidio--for the promenader in question was Vizcarra himself. 

Though satisfied with his own appearance, he was evidently not satisfiedabout something else. There was a cloud upon his features that not eventhe contemplation of the lacquered boots or lily-white hands couldbanish. Some disagreeable thought was pressing upon his mind, causinghim at intervals to make fitful starts, and look nervously around him. 

"Bah! 'twas but a dream!" he muttered to himself. "Why should I thinkof it? 'twas only a dream!"

His eyes were bent downward as he gave expression to these abruptphrases, and as he raised them again chance guided his look in thedirection of "La Nina Perdida. " No, it was not chance, for La Nina hadfigured in his dream, and his eyes were but following his thoughts. 

The moment they rested on the cliff he started back as if some terriblespectre were before him, and mechanically caught hold of the parapet. His cheeks suddenly blanched, his jaws fell, and his chest heaved, inhurried and convulsive breathing!

What can cause these symptoms of strong emotion? Is it the sight ofyonder horseman standing upon the very pinnacle of the bluff, andoutlined against the pale sky? What is there in such an appearance toterrify the Comandante--for terrified he is? Hear him!

"My God! my God!--it is _he_! The form of his horse--of himself--justas he appeared--it is he! I fear to look at him! I cannot--"

And the officer averted his face for a moment, covering it with hishands. 

It was but a moment, and again he looked upwards. Not curiosity, butthe fascination of fear, caused him to look again. The horseman haddisappeared. Neither horse nor man--no object of any sort--broke theline of the bluffs!

"Surely I have been dreaming again?" muttered the still tremblingcaitiff. "Surely I have? There was no one there, least of all--. Howcould he? He is hundreds of miles off! It was an illusion! Ha! ha!ha! What the devil is the matter with my senses, I wonder? That horriddream of last night has bewitched them! _Carrambo_! I'll think no moreof it?"

As he said this he resumed his pace more briskly, believing that thatmight rid him of his unpleasant reflections. At every turn, however, his eyes again sought the bluff, and swept along its edge with a glancethat betokened fear. But they saw no more of the spectre horseman, andtheir owner began to feel at ease again. 

A footstep was heard upon the stone steps of the "escalera. " Some onewas ascending to the roof. 

The next moment the head and shoulders of a man were visible; andCaptain Roblado stepped out upon the azotea. 

The "buenos dias" that passed between him and Vizcarra showed that itwas their first meeting for that day. In fact, neither had been longup; for the hour was not yet too late for fashionable sleepers. Robladohad just breakfasted, and come out on the azotea to enjoy his Havannah. 

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed he, as he lighted the cigar, "what a drollmasquerade it has been! 'Pon my soul! I can scarce get the paint off;and my voice, after such yelling, won't recover for a week! Ha! ha!Never was maiden wooed and won in such a romantic, roundabout way. Shepherds attacked--sheep driven off and scattered to the winds--cattlecarried away and killed in regular _battue_--old woman knocked over, andrancho given to the flames--besides three days of marching andcountermarching, travestying Indian, and whooping till one is hoarse;and all this trouble for a poor _paisana_--daughter of a reputed witch!Ha! ha! ha! It would read like a chapter in some Eastern romance--Aladdin, for instance--only that the maiden was not rescued by someprocess of magic or knight-errantry. Ha! ha ha!"

This speech of Roblado will disclose what is, perhaps, guessed atalready--that the late incursion of "los barbaros" was neither more norless than an affair got up by Vizcarra and himself to cover theabduction of the cibolero's sister. The Indians who had harried thesheep and cattle--who had attacked the hacienda of Don Juan--who hadfired the rancho and carried off Rosita--were Colonel Vizcarra, hisofficer Captain Roblado, his sergeant Gomez, and a soldier named Jose--another minion of his confidence and will. 

There were but the four, as that number was deemed sufficient for theaccomplishment of the atrocious deed; and rumour, backed by fear, gavethem the strength of four hundred. Besides, the fewer in the secret thebetter. This was the prudence or cunning of Roblado. 

Most cunningly, too, had they taken their measures. The game, frombeginning to end, was played with design and execution worthy of abetter cause. The shepherds were first attacked on the upper plain, togive certainty to the report that hostile Indians were near. Thescouting-parties were sent out from the Presidio, and proclamationsissued to the inhabitants to be on their guard--all for effect; and thefurther swoop upon the cattle was clear proof of the presence of "losbarbaros" in the valley. In this foray the fiendish masquers took anopportunity of "killing two birds with one stone;" for, in addition tocarrying out their general design, they gratified the mean revenge whichthey held against the young ranchero. 

Their slaughtering his cattle in the ravine had a double object. First, the loss it would be to him gave them satisfaction; but their principalmotive was that the animals might not stray back to the settlement. Hadthey done so, after having been captured by Indians, it would havelooked suspicious. As it was, they hoped that, long before any oneshould discover the _battue_, the wolves and buzzard would do theirwork; and the bones would only supply food for conjecture. This was themore probable, as it was not likely, while the Indian alarm lasted, thatany one would be bold enough to venture that way. There was nosettlement or road, except Indian trails, leading in that direction. 

Even when the final step was taken, and the victim carried off, she wasnot brought _directly_ to the Presidio; for even _she_ was to behoodwinked. On the contrary, she was tied upon a mule, led by one ofthe ruffians, and permitted to see the way they were going, until theyhad reached the point where their trail turned back. She was thenblinded by a leathern "tapado, " and in that state carried to thePresidio, and within its walls--utterly ignorant of the distance she hadtravelled, and the place where she was finally permitted to rest. 

Every act in the diabolical drama was conceived with astuteness, andenacted with a precision which must do credit to the head of CaptainRoblado, if not to his heart. He was the principal actor in the wholeaffair. 

Vizcarra had, at first, some scruples about the affair--not on the scoreof conscience, but of impracticability and fear of detection. Thiswould indeed have done him a serious injury. The discovery of such avillainous scheme would have spread like wildfire over the wholecountry. It would have been ruin to him. 

Roblado's eloquence, combined with his own vile desires, overruled theslight opposition of his superior; and, once entered on the affair, thelatter found himself highly amused in carrying it out. The burlesqueproclamations, the exaggerated stories of Indians, the terror of thecitizens, their encomiums on his own energetic and valorous conduct--allthese were a pleasant relief to the _ennui_ of a barrack life and, during the several days' visit of "los barbaros, " the Comandante and hiscaptain were never without a theme for mirth and laughter. 

So adroitly had they managed the whole matter that, upon the morningafter the final _coup_ of the robbers--the abduction of Rosita--therewas not a soul in the settlement, themselves and their two aidesexcepted, that had the slightest suspicion but that real hostile Indianswere the actors!

Yes, there was one other who had a suspicion--only a suspicion--Rosita'smother. Even the girl believed herself in the hands of Indians--_ifbelief she had_. 

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. 

"Ha! ha! ha! A capital joke, by my honour!" continued Roblado, laughingas he puffed his cigar. "It's the only piece of fun I've enjoyed sincewe came to this stupid place. Even in a frontier post I find that one_may_ have a little amusement if he know how to make it. Ha! ha! ha!After all, there was a devilish deal of trouble. But come, tell me, mydear Comandante--for you know by this time--in confidence, was it worththe trouble?"

"I am sorry we have taken it, " was the reply, delivered in a serioustone. 

Roblado looked straight in the other's face, and now for the first timenoticed its gloomy expression. Busied with his cigar, he had notobserved this before. 

"Hola!" exclaimed he; "what's the matter, my colonel? This is not thelook a man should wear who has spent the last twelve hours as pleasantlyas you must have done. Something amiss?"

"Everything amiss. "

"Pray what? Surely you were with her?"

"But a moment, and that was enough. "

"Explain, my dear colonel. "

"She is mad!"

"Mad!"

"Having mad! Her talk terrified me. I was but too glad to come away, and leave her to the care of Jose, who waits upon her. I could not bearto listen to her strange jabberings. I assure you, camarado, it robbedme of all desire to remain. "

"Oh, " said Roblado, "that's nothing--she'll get over it in a day or so. She still thinks herself in the hands of the savages who are going tomurder and scalp her! It may be as well for you to undeceive her ofthis as soon as she comes to her senses. I don't see any harm inletting _her_ know. You must do so in the end, and the sooner thebetter--you will have the longer time to get her reconciled to it. Nowthat you have her snug within earless and eyeless walls, you can managethe thing at your leisure. No one suspects--no one _can_ suspect. Theyare full of the Indians to-day--ha! ha! ha! and 'tis said her inamorato, Don Juan, talks of getting up a party to pursue them! Ha! ha! He'llnot do that--the fellow hasn't influence enough, and nobody cares eitherabout his cattle or the witch's daughter. Had it been some one else thecase might have been different. As it is, there's no fear of discovery, even were the cibolero himself to make his appearance--"

"Roblado!" cried the Comandante, interrupting him, and speaking in adeep earnest voice. 

"Well?" inquired the captain, regarding Vizcarra with astonishment. 

"I have had a dream--a fearful dream; and that--not the ravings of thegirl--it is that is now troubling me. _Diablos_! a fearful dream!"

"You, Comandante--a valiant soldier--to let a silly dream trouble you!But come! what was it? I'm a good interpreter of dreams. I warrant Iread it to your bettor satisfaction. "

"Simple enough it is, then. I thought myself upon the cliff of La Nina. I thought that I was alone with Carlos the cibolero! I thought that heknew all, and that he had brought me there to punish me--to avenge_her_. I had no power to resist, but was led forward to the brink. Ithought that we closed and struggled for a while; but at length I wasshaken from his grasp, and pushed over the precipice! I felt myselffalling--falling! I could see above me the cibolero, with his sister byhis side, and on the extremest point the hideous witch their mother, wholaughed a wild maniac laugh, and clapped her long bony hands! I feltmyself falling--falling--yet still not reaching the ground; and thishorrible feeling continued for a long, long time--in fact, until thefearful thought awoke me. Even then I could scarce believe I had beendreaming, so palpable was the impression that remained. Oh, comrade, itwas a dreadful dream!"

"And _but_ a dream; and what signifies--"

"Stay, Roblado! I have not told you all. Within the hour--ay, withinthe quarter of that time--while I was on this spot thinking over it, Ichanced to look up to the cliff; and yonder, upon the extreme point, wasa horseman clearly outlined against the sky--and that horseman the veryimage of the cibolero! I noted the horse and the seat of the rider, which I well remember. I could not trust my eyes to look at him. Iaverted them for a moment--only a moment; and when I looked again he wasgone! So quickly had he retired, that I was inclined to think it wasonly a fancy--that there had been none--and that my dream had producedthe illusion!"

"That is likely enough, " said Roblado, desirous of comforting hiscompanion; "likely enough--nothing more natural. In the first place, from where we stand to the top of La Nina is a good five thousand varasas the crow flies; and for you, at that distance, to distinguish Carlosthe cibolero from any other horseman is a plain impossibility. In thesecond place, Carlos the cibolero is at this moment full five hundredmiles from the tip of my cigar, risking his precious carcase for acartload of stinking hides and a few bultos of dried buffalo-beef. Letus hope that some of his copper-coloured friends will raise hishay-coloured hair, which some of our poblanas so much admire. And now, my dear Comandante, as to your dream, that is as natural as may be. Itcould hardly be otherwise than that you should have such a dream. Theremembrance of the cibolero's feat of horsemanship on that very cliff, and the later affair with the sister, together with the suspicion youmay naturally entertain that Senor Carlos wouldn't be too kind to you ifhe knew all and had you in his power--all these things, being in yourthoughts at one time, must come together incongruously in a dream. Theold woman, too--if she wasn't in your thoughts, she has been in mineever since I gave her that knock in the doorway. Who could forget sucha picture as she then presented? Ha! ha! ha!"

The brutal villain laughed--not so much from any ludicrous recollection, as to make the whole thing appear light and trivial in the eyes of hiscompanion. 

"What does it all amount to?" he continued. "A dream! a simple, everyday dream! Come, my dear friend, don't let it remain on your mindfor another instant!"

"I cannot help it, Roblado. It clings to me like my shadow. It feelslike a presentiment. I wish I had left this paisana in her mud hut. ByHeaven! I wish she were back there. I shall not be myself till I havegot rid of her. I seem to loathe as much as I loved the jabberingidiot. "

"Tut, tut, man! you'll soon change your way of thinking--you'll soontake a fresh liking--"

"No, Roblado, no! I'm disgusted--I can't tell why but I _am_. Would toGod she were off my hands!"

"Oh! that's easy enough, and without hurting anybody. She can go theway she came. It will only be another scene in the masquerade, and noone will be the wiser. If you are really in earnest--"

"Roblado!" cried the Comandante, grasping his captain by the arm, "Inever was more in earnest in my life. Tell me the plan to get her backwithout making a noise about it. Tell me quick, for I cannot bear thishorrid feeling any longer. "

"Why, then, " began Roblado, "we must have another travestie of Indians--we must--"

He was suddenly interrupted. A short, sharp groan escaped fromVizcarra. His eyes looked as though about to start from his head. Hislips grow white, and the perspiration leaped into drops on his forehead!

What could it mean? Vizcarra stood by the outer edge of the azotea thatcommanded a view of the road leading up to the gate of the Presidio. Hewas gazing over the parapet, and pointing with outstretched arm. 

Roblado was farther back, near the centre of the azotea. He sprangforward, and looked in the direction indicated. A horseman, coveredwith sweat and dust, was galloping up the road. He was near enough forRoblado to distinguish his features. Vizcarra had already distinguishedthem. It was Carlos the cibolero!

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. 

The announcement made by the cibolero on the bluff startled Don Juan, asif a shot had passed through him. Up to this time the simple rancherohad no thought but that they were on the trail of Indians. Even thesingular fact of the trail leading back to the valley had not undeceivedhim. He supposed the Indians had made some other and later foray inthat quarter, and that they would hear of them as soon as they shoulddescend the cliffs. 

When Carlos pointed to the Presidio, and said, "She is there!" hereceived the announcement at first with surprise, then with incredulity. 

Another word from the cibolero, and a few moments' reflection, and hisincredulity vanished. The terrible truth flashed upon his mind, for he, too, remembered the conduct of Vizcarra on the day of the fiesta. Hisvisit to the rancho and other circumstances now rushed before him, aiding the conviction that Carlos spoke the truth. 

For some moments the lover could scarce give utterance to his thoughts, so painful were they. More painful than ever! Even while under thebelief that his mistress was in the hands of wild Indians he sufferedless. There was still some hope that, by their strange code in relationto female captives, she might escape that dreaded fate, until he andCarlos might come up and rescue her. But now the time that hadelapsed--Vizcarra's character--O God! it was a terrible thought; and theyoung man reeled in his saddle as it crossed his mind. 

He rode back a few paces, flung himself from his horse, and staggered tothe ground in the bitterness of his anguish. 

Carlos remained on the bluff, still gazing down on the Presidio. Heseemed to be maturing some plan. He could see the sentries on thebattlements, the troopers lounging around the walls in their dark blueand crimson uniforms. He could even hear the call of the cavalry bugle, as its clear echoes came dancing along the cliffs. He could see thefigure of a man--an officer--pacing to and fro on the azotea, and hecould perceive that the latter had halted, and was observing him. 

It was at this very moment that Vizcarra had caught sight of thehorseman on the bluff--the sight that had so terrified him, and whichindeed was no illusion. 

"Can it be that fiend himself?" thought Carlos, regarding the officerfor a moment. "Quite likely it is he. Oh! that he were within range ofmy rifle! Patience--patience! I will yet have my revenge!"

And as the speaker muttered these words, he reined back from the bluffand rejoined his companion. 

A consultation was now held as to what would be the best mode ofproceeding. Antonio was called to their council, and to him Carlosdeclared his belief that his sister was a captive within the Presidio. It was telling Antonio what he had already divined. The _mestizo_ hadbeen to the fiesta as well as his master, and his keen eyes had beenbusy on that day. He, too, had observed the conduct of Vizcarra; andlong before their halt he had arrived at an elucidation of the manymysteries that marked the late Indian incursion. He knew all--hismaster might have saved words in telling him. 

Neither words nor time were wasted. The hearts of both brother andlover were beating too hurriedly for that. Perhaps at that moment theobject of their affection was in peril, --perhaps struggling with herruffian abductor! Their timely arrival might save her!

These considerations took precedence of all plans; in fact, there was noplan they could adopt, to remain concealed--to skulk about the place--towait for opportunity--what opportunity? They might spend days infruitless waiting. Days!--hours--even minutes would be too long. Not amoment was to be lost before some action must be taken. 

And what action? They could think of none--none but open action. What!dare a man not claim his own sister? Demand her restoration?

But the thought of refusal--the thought of subterfuge--in fact, thecertainty that such would be the result--quite terrified them both. 

And yet how else could they act? They would at least give publicity tothe atrocious deed; that might serve them. There would be sympathy intheir favour--perhaps more. Perhaps the people, slaves as they were, might surround the Presidio, and clamour loudly;--in some way thecaptive might be rescued. Such were their hurried reflections. 

"If not rescued, " said Carlos, grinding his teeth together, "she shallbe revenged. Though the _garrota_ press my throat, he shall not live ifshe be dishonoured. I swear it!"

"I echo the oath!" cried Don Juan, grasping the hilt of his _machete_. 

"Masters! dear masters!" said Antonio, "you both know I am not a coward. I shall aid you with my arm or my life; but it is a terrible business. Let us have caution, or we fail. Let us be prudent!"

"True, we must be prudent. I have already promised that to my mother;but how, comrades?--how! In what does prudence consist?--to wait andwatch, while she--oh!"

All three were silent for a while. None of them could think of afeasible plan to be pursued. 

The situation was, indeed, a most difficult one. There was thePresidio, and within its walls--perhaps in some dark chamber--thecibolero well knew his sister was a captive; but under such peculiarcircumstances that her release would be a most difficult enterprise. 

In the first place, the villain who held her would assuredly deny thatshe was there. To have released her would be an acknowledgment of hisguilt. What proof of it could Carlos give? The soldiers of thegarrison, no doubt, were ignorant of the whole transaction--with theexception of the two or three miscreants who had acted as aides. Werethe cibolero to assert such a thing in the town he would be laughed at--no doubt arrested and punished. Even could he offer proofs, whatauthority was there to help him to justice? The military was the law ofthe place, and the little show of civic authority that existed would bemore disposed to take sides against him than in his favour. He couldexpect no justice from any quarter. All the proof of his accusationwould rest only on such facts as would neither be understood norregarded by those to whom he might appeal. The return trail would beeasily accounted for by Vizcarra--if he should deign to take so muchtrouble--and the accusation of Carlos would be scouted as the fancy of amadman. No one would give credence to it. The very atrociousness ofthe deed rendered it incredible!

Carlos and his companions were aware of all these things. They had nohope of help from any quarter. There was no authority that could givethem aid or redress. 

The cibolero, who had remained for a while silent and thoughtful, atlength spoke out. His tone was altered. He seemed to have conceivedsome plan that held out a hope. 

"Comrades!" he said, "I can think of nothing but an open demand, andthat must be made within the hour. I cannot live another hour withoutattempting her rescue--another hour, and what we dread--No! within thehour it must be. I have formed a sort of plan--it may not be the mostprudent--but there is no time for reflection. Hear it. "

"Go on!"

"It will be of no use our appearing before the gate of the Presidio infull force. There are hundreds of soldiers within the walls, and ourtwenty Tagnos, though brave as lions, would be of no service in such anunequal fight. I shall go alone. "

"Alone?"

"Yes; I trust to chance for an interview with _him_. If I can get that, it is all I want. He is her gaoler; and when the gaoler sleeps, thecaptive may be freed. He shall _sleep then_. "

The last words were uttered in a significant tone, while the speakerplaced his hand mechanically upon the handle of a large knife that wasstuck in his waist-belt. 

"_He shall sleep_ then!" he repeated; "and soon, if Fate favours me. For the rest I care not: I am too desperate. If she be dishonoured Icare not to live, but I shall have full revenge!"

"But how will you obtain an interview?" suggested Don Juan. "He willnot give _you_ one. Would it not be better to disguise yourself? Therewould be more chance of seeing him that way?"

"No! I am not easily disguised, with my light hair and skin. Besides, it would cost too much time. Trust me, I will not be rash. I have aplan by which I hope to get near him--to see him, at all events. If itfail, I intend to make no demonstration for the present. None of thewretches shall know my real errand. Afterwards I may do as you advise, but now I cannot wait. I must on to the work. I believe it is he thatis at this moment pacing yonder azotea, and that is why I cannot wait, Don Juan. If it be me--"

"But what shall we do?" asked Don Juan. "Can we not assist in any way?"

"Yes, perhaps in my escape. Come on, I shall place you. Come onquickly. Moments are days. My brain's on fire. Come on!"

So saying, the cibolero leaped into his saddle and struck rapidly downthe precipitous path that led to the valley. 

From the point where the road touched the valley bottom, for more than amile in the direction of the Presidio, it ran through a thick growth oflow trees and bushes forming a "chapparal, " difficult to pass through, except by following the road itself. 

But there were several cattle-paths through the thicket, by which itmight be traversed; and these were known to Antonio the half-blood, whohad formerly lived in this neighbourhood. By one of those a party ofmounted men might approach within half-a-mile of the Presidio withoutattracting the observation of the sentries upon the walls. To thispoint, then, Antonio was directed to guide the party; and in due timethey arrived near the edge of the jungle, where, at the command ofCarlos, all dismounted keeping themselves and their horses under coverof the bushes. 

"Now, " said the cibolero, speaking to Don Juan, "remain here. If Iescape, I shall gallop direct to this point. If I lose my horse, youshall see me afoot all the same. For such a short stretch I can runlike a deer: I shall not be overtaken. When I return I shall tell youhow to act. 

"See! Don Juan!" he continued, grasping the ranchero by the arm, anddrawing him forward to the edge of the chapparal. "It is he! by Heaven, it is he!"

Carlos pointed to the azotea of the Presidio, where the head andshoulders of a man were seen above the line of the parapet. 

"It is the Comandante himself!" said Don Juan, also recognising him. 

"Enough! I have no time for more talk, " cried the cibolero. "Now ornever! If I return, you shall know what to do. If not, I am taken orkilled. But stay here. Stay till late in the night; I may stillescape. Their prisons are not too strong; besides, I carry this gold. It may help me. No more. Adios! true friend, adios!"

With a grasp of the ranchero's hand, Carlos leaped back to his saddle, and rode off. 

He did not go in the direction of the Presidio, as that would havediscovered him too soon. But a path that led through the chapparalwould bring him out on the main road that ran up to the front gate, andthis path he took. Antonio guided him to the edge of the timber, andthen returned to the rest. 

Carlos, once on the road, spurred his horse into gallop, and dashedboldly forward to the great gate of the Presidio. The dog Cibolofollowed, keeping close up to the heels of his horse. 

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE. 

"By the Virgin, it _is_ he!" exclaimed Roblado, with a look ofastonishment and alarm. "The fellow himself, as I live!"

"I knew it!--I knew it!" shrieked Vizcarra. "I saw him on the cliff: itwas no vision!"

"Where can he have come from? In the name of all the saints, where hasthe fellow--"

"Roblado, I must go below! I must go in, I will not stay to meet him!I _cannot_!"

"Nay, colonel, better let him speak with us. He has seen and recognisedyou already. If you appear to shun him, it will arouse suspicion. Hehas come to ask our help to pursue the Indians; and that's his errand, Iwarrant you!"

"Do you think so?" inquired Vizcarra, partially recovering hisself-possession at this conjecture. 

"No doubt of it! What else? He can have no suspicion of the truth. How is it possible he could, unless he were a witch, like his mother?Stay where you are, and let us hear what he has got to say. Of course, you can talk to him from the azotea, while he remains below. If he showany signs of being insolent, as he has already been to both of us, letus have him arrested, and cooled a few hours in the calabozo. I hopethe fellow will give us an excuse for it, for I haven't forgotten hisimpudence at the fiesta. "

"You are right, Roblado; I shall stay and heur him. It will be better, I think, and will allay any suspicion. But, as you say, he can havenone!"

"On the contrary, by your giving him the aid he is about to ask you for, you may put him entirely off the scent--make him your friend, in fact. Ha! ha!"

The idea was plausible, and pleased Vizcarra. He at once determined toact upon it. 

This conversation had been hurriedly carried on, and lasted but a fewmoments--from the time the approaching horseman had been first seen, until he drew up under the wall. 

For the last two hundred yards he had ridden slowly, and with an air ofapparent respect--as though he feared it might be deemed rude toapproach the place of power by any swaggering exhibition ofhorsemanship. On his fine features traces of grief might be observed, but not one sign of the feeling that was at that moment uppermost in hisheart. 

As he drew near, he raised his sombrero in a respectful salute to thetwo officers, whose heads and shoulders were just visible over theparapet; and having arrived within a dozen paces of the wall, he reinedup, and, taking off his hat again, waited to be addressed. 

"What is your business?" demanded Roblado. 

"Cavalleros! I wish to speak with the Comandante. "

This was delivered in the tone of one who is soon to ask a favour. Itgave confidence to Vizcarra, as well as to the bolder villain--who, notwithstanding all his assurances to the contrary, had still somesecret misgivings about the cibolero's errand. Now, however, it wasclear that his first conjecture was correct; Carlos had come to solicittheir assistance. 

"I am he!" answered Vizcarra, now quite recovered from his fright, "I amthe Comandante. What have you to communicate, my man?"

"Your excellency, I have a favour to ask;" and the cibolero againsaluted with an humble bow. 

"I told you so, " whispered Roblado to his superior. "All safe, mycolonel. "

"Well, my good fellow, " replied Vizcarra, in his usual haughty andpatronising manner, "let me hear it. If not unreasonable--"

"Your excellency, it is a very heavy favour I would ask, but I hope notunreasonable. I am sure that, if it do not interfere with your manifoldduties, you will not refuse to grant it, as the interest and trouble youhave already taken in the cause are but too well-known. "

"Told you so, " muttered Roblado a second time. 

"Speak out, man!" said Vizcarra, encouragingly; "I can only give ananswer when I have heard your request. "

"It is this, your excellency. I am but a poor cibolero. "

"You are Carlos the cibolero! I know you. "

"Yes, your excellency, we have met--at the fiesta of San Juan--"

"Yes, yes! I recollect your splendid horsemanship. "

"Your excellency is kind to call it so. It does not avail me now. I amin great trouble!"

"What has befallen? Speak out, man. " Both Vizcarra and Roblado guessedthe purport of the cibolero's request. They desired that it should beheard by the few soldiers lounging about the gate and for that reasonthey spoke in a loud tone themselves, anxious that their petitionermight do the same. 

Not to oblige them, but for reasons of his own, Carlos replied in a loudvoice. He, too, wished the soldiers, but more particularly the sentryat the gate, to hear what passed between himself and the officers. "Well, your excellency, " replied he, "I live in a poor rancho, the lastin the settlement, with my old mother and sister. The night before lastit was attacked by a party of Indians--my mother left for dead--therancho set on fire--and my sister carried off!"

"I have heard of all this, my friend, --nay, more, I have myself been outin pursuit of the savages. "

"I know it, your excellency. I was absent on the Plains, and onlyreturned last night. I have heard that your excellency was prompt inpursuing the savages, and I feel grateful. "

"No need of that; I only performed my duty. I regret the occurrence, and sympathise with you; but the villains have got clear off, and thereis no hope of bringing them to punishment just now. Perhaps some othertime--when the garrison here is strengthened--I shall make an incursioninto their country, and then your sister may be recovered. "

So completely had Vizcarra been deceived by the cibolero's manner, thathis confidence and coolness had returned, and any one knowing nothingmore of the affair than could be gathered from that conversation wouldhave certainly been deceived by him. This dissimulation both in speechand manner appeared perfect. By the keen eye of Carlos, however--withhis knowledge of the true situation--the tremor of the speaker's lips, slight as it was--his uneasy glance--and an occasional hesitancy in hisspeech, were all observed. Though Carlos was deceiving _him_, _he_ wasnot deceiving Carlos. 

"What favour were you going to ask?" he inquired, after he had deliveredhis hopeful promise. 

"This, your excellency; that you would allow your troops to go once moreon the trail of the robbers, either under your own command--which Iwould much like--or one of your brave officers. " Roblado feltflattered. "I would act as guide, your excellency. There is not a spotwithin two hundred miles I am not acquainted with, as well as I am withthis valley; and though I should not say it, I assure your excellency, Ican follow an Indian trail with any hunter on the Plains. If yourexcellency will but send the troop, I promise you I shall guide them tothe robbers, or lose my reputation. I can follow their trail _whereverit may lead_. "

"Oh! you could, indeed?" said Vizcarra, exchanging a significant glancewith Roblado, while both exhibited evident symptoms of uneasiness. 

"Yes, your excellency, anywhere. "

"It would be impossible, " said Roblado. "It is now two days old;besides, _we_ followed it beyond the Pecos, and we have no doubt therobbers are by this time far out of reach, of any pursuit. It would bequite useless to attempt such a thing. "

"Cavalleros!"--Carlos addressed himself to both--"I assure you I couldfind them. They are not so far off. "

Both the Comandante and his captain started, and visibly turned pale. The cibolero did not affect to notice this. 

"Nonsense! my good fellow!" stammered Roblado; "they are--at least--hundreds of miles off by this--away over the Staked Plain--or to--to themountains. "

"Pardon me, captain, for differing with you; but I believe I know theseIndians--I know to what tribe they belong. "

"What tribe?" simultaneously inquired the officers, both with anearnestness of manner and a slight trepidation in their voices; "whattribe?--Were they not Yutas?"

"No, " answered the cibolero, while he observed the continued confusionof his questioners. 

"Who, then?"

"I believe, " replied Carlos, "they were _not_ Yutas--more likely mysworn foes, the Jicarillas. "

"Quite possible!" assented both in a breath, and evidently relieved atthe enunciation. 

"Quite possible!" repeated Roblado. "From the description given us bythe people who saw them, we had fancied they were the Yutas. It may bea mistake, however. The people were so affrighted, they could tell butlittle about them. Besides, the Indians were only seen in the night. "

"Why think you they are the Jicarillas?" asked the Comandante, once morebreathing freely. 

"Partly because there were so few of them, " replied Carlos. "Had theybeen Yutas--"

"But they were not so few. The shepherds report a large band. Theyhave carried off immense numbers of cattle. There must have been aconsiderable force of them, else they would not have ventured into thevalley--that is certain. "

"I am convinced, your excellency, there could not have been many. Asmall troop of your brave soldiers would be enough to bring back boththem and their booty. "

Here the lounging lanzeros erected their dwarfish bodies, andendeavoured to look taller. 

"_If_ they were Jicarillas, " continued Carlos, "I should not need tofollow their trail. They are _not_ in the direction of the Llano. Ifthey have gone that way, it was to mislead you in the pursuit. I knowwhere they are at this moment--in the mountains. "

"Ha! you think they are in the mountains?"

"I am sure of it; and not fifty miles from here. If your excellencywould but send a troop, I could guide it direct to the spot, and withoutfollowing the trail they have taken out of the valley--which I believewas only a false one. "

The Comandante and Roblado drew back from the parapet, and for someminutes talked together in a low tone. 

"It would look well, " muttered Roblado; "in fact, the very thing youwant. The trump cards seem to drop right into your hands. You send aforce at the _request_ of this fellow, who is a nobody here. You do hima service, and yourself at the same time. It will tell well, I warrantyou. "

"But for him to act as guide?"

"Let him! So much the better--that will satisfy all parties. He won'tfind his Jicarillas, --ha! ha ha!--of course; but let the fool have hiswhim!"

"But suppose, camarado, he falls upon _our_ trail?--the cattle?"

"He is not going in that direction; besides, if he did, we are not boundto follow such trails as he may choose for us; but he has said he is notgoing that way--he don't intend to follow a trail. He knows some nestof these Jicarillas in the mountains, --like enough; and to rout them--there's a bit of glory for some one. A few scalps would look well overthe gate. It hasn't had a fresh ornament of that sort since we've beenhere! What say you? It's but a fifty-mile ride. "

"I have no objection to the thing--it _would_ look well; but I shall notgo myself. I don't like being along with the fellow out there oranywhere else--you can understand that feeling, I suppose?"

Here the Comandante looked significantly at his companion. 

"Oh! certainly--certainly, " replied the latter. 

"_You_ may take the troop; or, if you are not inclined, send Garcia orthe sergeant with them. "

"I'll go myself, " replied Roblado. "It will be safer. Should thecibolero incline to follow certain trails, I can lead him away fromthem, or refuse--yes it will be better for me to go myself. By my soul!I want to have a brush with these redskins. I hope to bring back some`hair, ' as they say. Ha ha! ha!"

"When would you start?"

"Instantly--the sooner the better. That will be more agreeable to allparties, and will prove our promptitude and patriotism. Ha! ha! ha!"

"You had better give the sergeant his orders to get the men ready, whileI make our cibolero happy. "

Roblado hastened down from the azotea, and the next moment the bugle washeard sounding "boots and saddles. "

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. 

During the conversation that had taken place the cibolero sat, motionless upon his horse where he had first halted. The two officerswere no longer in view, as they had stepped back upon the azotea, andthe high parapet concealed them. But Carlos guessed the object of theirtemporary retirement, and waited patiently. 

The group of soldiers, lounging in the gateway, and scanning him and hishorse, now amounted to thirty or forty men; but the bugle, sounding thewell-known call, summoned them off to the stables, and the sentry aloneremained by the gate. Both he and the soldiers, having overheard thelast conversation, guessed the object of the summons. Carlos feltassured that his request was about to be granted, though as yet theComandante had not told him. 

Up to that moment the cibolero had conceived no fixed plan of action. How could he, where so much depended on chance?

Only one idea was before his mind that could be called definite--thatwas _to get Vizcarra alone_. If but for a single minute, it wouldsuffice. 

Entreaty, he felt, would be idle, and might waste time and end in hisown defeat and death. A minute would be enough for vengeance; and withthe thoughts of his sister's ruin fresh on his mind, he was burning forthis. To anything after he scarce gave a thought. For escape, hetrusted to chance and his own superior energy. 

Up to that moment, then, he had conceived no fixed plan of action. Ithad just occurred to him that the Comandante himself might lead theparty going out. If so he would take no immediate step. While actingas guide, his opportunity would be excellent--not only for destroyinghis enemy, but for his own escape. Once on the wide plains, he wouldhave no fear of ten times the number of lancers. His true steed wouldcarry him far beyond their reach. 

The troop was going. The bugle told him so. Would Vizcarra go with it?That was the question that now engrossed his thoughts, as he satimmobile on his horse, regarding with anxious look the line of theparapet above. 

Once more the hated face appeared over the wall--this time to announcewhat the Comandante believed would be glad news to his wretchedpetitioner. With all the pompous importance of one who grants a greatfavour he announced it. 

A gleam of joy shot over the features of the cibolero--not at theannouncement, though Vizcarra thought so; but at his observation of thefact that the latter seemed to be now _alone upon the azotea_. Roblado's face was not above the wall. 

"It is exceedingly gracious of your excellency to grant this favour toan humble individual like myself. I know not how to thank you. "

"No thanks--no thanks: an officer of his Catholic Majesty wants nothanks for doing his duty. "

As the Comandante said this, he waved his hand with proud dignity, andseemed about to retire backward. Carlos interrupted his intention byputting a question: "Am I to have the honour of acting as guide to yourexcellency?"

"No; I do not go myself on this expedition; but my best officer, CaptainRoblado, will lead it. He is now getting ready. You may wait for him. "

As Vizcarra said this, he turned abruptly away from the wall, andcontinued his promenade along the azotea. No doubt he felt ill at easein a _tete-a-tete_ with the cibolero, and was glad to end it. Why hehad condescended to give all this information need not be inquired into;but it was just what the cibolero desired to know. 

The latter saw that the time was come--not a moment was to be lost, and, quick as thought, he resolved himself for action. 

Up to this moment he had remained in his saddle. His rifle--its buttresting in the stirrup, its barrel extending up to his shoulder--hadbeen seen by no one. The "_armas de aqua_" covering his legs, and theserape his shoulders, had completely concealed it. In addition to this, his sharp hunting-knife, strapped along his left thigh, escapedobservation under the hanging corner of the serape. These were his onlyweapons. 

During the short conversation between the Comandante and Roblado he hadnot been idle, though apparently so. He had made a full reconnaissanceof the walls. He saw that out of the saguan, or gateway, an escalera ofstone steps led up to the azotea. This communication was intended forthe soldiers, when any duty required them to mount to the roof; butCarlos knew that there was another escalera, by which the officersascended: and although he had never been inside the Presidio, he rightlyconjectured that this was at the adjacent end of the building. He hadobserved, too, that but one sentry was posted at the gate, and that thestone banquette, inside the saguan, used as a lounging-place by theguard, was at the moment unoccupied. The guard were either inside thehouse, or had strayed away to their quarters. In fact, the disciplineof the place was of the loosest kind. Vizcarra, though a dandy himself, was no martinet with his men. His time was too much taken up with hisown pleasures to allow him to care for aught else. 

All these points had passed under the keen observation of the cibolerobefore Vizcarra returned to announce his intention of sending the troop. He had scarce parted out of sight the second time ere the former hadtaken his measures. 

Silently dismounting from his horse, Carlos left the animal standingwhere he had halted him. He did not fasten him to either rail or post, but simply hooked the bridle-rein over the "horn" of the saddle. Heknow that his well-trained steed would await him there. 

His rifle he still carried under his serape, though the butt was nowvisible below the edge, pressed closely against the calf of his leg. Inthis way he walked forward to the gate. 

One doubt troubled him--would the sentry permit him to pass in? If not, the sentry must die!

This resolve was quickly made; and the cibolero under his serape kepthis grasp on the handle of his hunting-knife as he approached the gate. 

The attempt was made to pass through. Fortunately for Carlos, and forthe sentry as well, it was successful. The latter--a slouching, careless fellow--had heard the late conversation, and had no suspicionof the other's design. He made some feeble opposition, notwithstanding;but Carlos hastily replied that he had something to say to theComandante, who had beckoned him up to the azotea. This but halfsatisfied the fellow, who, however, reluctantly allowed him to pass. 

Once inside, Carlos sprang to the steps, and glided up with the stealthysilent tread of a cat. So little noise had his moccasins made upon thestones, that, when he arrived upon the roof, its occupant--althoughstanding but six feet from the head of the escalera--was not aware ofhis presence!

There was he--Vizcarra himself--the despot--the despoiler--the violatorof a sister's innocence and honour--there was he within six feet of theavenging brother--six feet from the muzzle of his ready rifle, and stillignorant of the terrible situation! His face was turned in an oppositedirection--he saw not his peril. 

The glance of the cibolero rested upon him but an instant, and thenswept the walls to ascertain if any one was above. He knew there weretwo sentries on the towers. They were not visible--they were on theouter walls and could not be seen from Carlos's position. No one elsewas above. His enemy alone was there, and his glance again rested uponhim. 

Carlos could have sent the bullet into his back, and such a thoughtcrossed his mind, but was gone in an instant. He had come to take theman's life, but not in that manner. Even prudence suggested a betterplan. His knife would be more silent, and afford him a safer chance ofescape when the deed was done! With this idea, he brought the butt ofhis rifle gently to the ground, and rested its barrel against theparapet. The iron coming in contact with the stone wall gave a tinyclink. Slight as it was, it reached the ear of the Comandante, whowheeled suddenly round, and started at the sight of the intruder. 

At first he exhibited anger, but the countenance of the cibolero, thathad undergone a complete metamorphosis during the short interval, soonchanged his anger into alarm. 

"How dare you intrude, sir?--how dare--"

"Not so loud, colonel!--not so loud--you will be heard!"

The low husky voice, and the firm tone of command, in which they wereuttered, terrified the cowardly wretch to whom these words wereaddressed. He saw that the man who stood before him bore in his faceand attitude the expression of desperate and irresistible resolve, thatplainly said, "Disobey, and you are a dead man!" This expression washeightened by the gleaming blade of a long knife, whose haft was firmlygrasped by the hand of the cibolero. 

At sight of those demonstrations, Vizcarra turned white with terror. Henow comprehended what was meant. The asking for the troop had been buta subterfuge to get near his own person! The cibolero had tracked him;his guilt was known, and the brother was now come to demand redress orhave vengeance! The horrors of his night-dream returned, now minglingwith the horrors of the fearful reality before him. 

He scarce knew what to say--he could scarce speak. He looked wildlyaround in hopes of seeing some help. Not a face or form was in sight--nothing but the grey walls, and before him the frowning face of histerrible antagonist. He would have called for help; but that face--thatangry attitude--told him that the shout would be his last. He gaspedout at length--

"What want you?"

"_I want my sister_!"

"Your sister?"

"My sister!"

"Carlos--I know not--she is not here--I--"

"Liar! she is within these walls. See! yonder the dog howls by thedoor. Why is that?"

Carlos pointed to a door in the lower part of the building, where thedog Cibolo was at that moment seen, whining and making otherdemonstrations, as if he wanted to get inside! A soldier wasendeavouring to drive him off. 

Vizcarra looked mechanically as directed. He saw the dog. He saw thesoldier too; but dared not make a signal to him. The keen blade wasgleaming before his eyes. The question of the cibolero was repeated. 

"Why is that?"

"I--I--know not--"

"Liar again! She has gone in by that door. Where is she now? Quick, tell me!"

"I declare, I know not. Believe me--"

"False villain! she is here. I have tracked you through all yourpaths--your tricks have not served you. Deny her once more, and this toyour heart. She is here!--Where--where--I say?"

"Oh! do not murder me. I shall tell all. She--she--is--here. I swearI have not wronged her; I swear I have not--"

"Here, ruffian--stand at this point--close to the wall here. --Quick!"

The cibolero had indicated a spot from which part of the patio, orcourtyard, was visible. His command was instantly obeyed, for thecraven Comandante saw that certain death was the alternative. 

"Now give orders that she be brought forth! You know to whom she isintrusted. Be cool and calm, do you hear? Any sign to your minions, either word or gesture, and this knife will pass through your ribs!Now!"

"O my God!--my God!--it would ruin me--all would know--ruin--ruin--Ipray you--have mercy--have patience!--She shall be restored to you--Iswear it--this very night!"

"This very moment, villain! Quick--proceed--all those who know--let herbe brought forth!--quick--I am on fire--one moment more--"

"O Heaven! you will murder me--a moment--Stay!--Ha!"

The last exclamation was in a different tone from the rest. It was ashout of exultation--of triumph!

The face of the Comandante was turned towards the escalera by whichCarlos had ascended, while that of the latter looked in the oppositedirection. Carlos, therefore, did not perceive that a third person hadreached the roof, until he felt his upraised right arm grasped by astrong hand, and held back! He wrenched his arm free--turning as he didso--when he found himself face to face with a man whom he recognised asthe Lieutenant Garcia. 

"I have no quarrel with _you_, " cried the cibolero; "keep away from me. "

The officer, without saying a word, had drawn a pistol, and waslevelling it at his head. Carlos rushed upon him. 

The report rang, and for a moment the smoke shrouded both Garcia and thecibolero. One was heard to fall heavily on the tiles, and the nextmoment the other sprang from the cloud evidently unhurt. 

It was the cibolero who came forth; and his knife, still in his grasp, was reeking with blood!

He rushed forward towards the spot where he had parted with theComandante, but the latter was gone! He was some distance off on theazotea, and running towards the private stairway. 

Carlos saw at a glance he could not overtake him before he should reachthe escalera, and make his descent; and to follow him below would now beuseless, for the shot had given the alarm. 

There was a moment of despair, --a short moment; for in the next a brightthought rushed into the mind of the cibolero--he remembered his rifle. There might be still time to overtake the Comandante with that. 

He seized the weapon, and, springing beyond the circle of smoke, raisedit to his shoulder. 

Vizcarra had reached the stairway, and was already sinking into itstrap-like entrance. His head and shoulders alone appeared above theline of wall, when some half-involuntary thought induced him to stop andlook back. The coward had partly got over his fright now that he hadarrived within reach of succour, and he glanced back from a feeling ofcuriosity, to see if the struggle between Garcia and the cibolero wasyet over. He meant to stop only for an instant, but just as he turnedhis head the rifle cracked, and the bullet sent him tumbling to thebottom of the escalera!

The cibolero saw that his shot had taken effect--he saw, moreover, thatthe other was dead--he heard the wild shouts of vengeance from below;and he knew that unless he could escape by flight he would be surroundedand pierced by an hundred lances. 

His first thought was to descend by the escalera, up which he had come. The other way only led into the patio, already filling with men. Heleaped over the body of Garcia, and ran toward the stairway. 

A crowd of armed men was coming up. His escape was cut off!

Again he crossed the dead body, and, running along the azotea, sprangupon the outer parapet and looked below. 

It was a fearful leap to take, but there was no other hope of escaping. Several lancers had reached the roof, and were charging forward withtheir pointed weapons. Already carbines were ringing, and bulletswhistling about his ears. It was no time to hesitate. His eye fellupon his brave horse, as he stood proudly curving his neck and champingthe bit, "Thank Heaven, he is yet alive!"

Nerved by the sight, Carlos dropped down from the wall, and reached theground without injury. A shrill whistle brought his steed to his side, and the next moment the cibolero had sprung into the saddle, and wasgalloping out into the open plain!

Bullets hissed after, and men mounted in hot pursuit; but before theycould spur their horses out of the gateway, Carlos had reached the edgeof the chapparal, and disappeared under the leafy screen of its thickfoliage. 

A body of lancers, with Roblado and Gomez at their head, rode after. Asthey approached the edge of the chapparal, to their astonishment a scoreof heads appeared above the bushes, and a wild yell hailed theiradvance!

"Indios bravos! los barbaros!" cried the lancers, halting, while some ofthem wheeled back in alarm. 

A general halt was made, and the pursuers waited until reinforcementsshould come up. The whole garrison turned out, and the chapparal wassurrounded, and at length entered. But no Indians could be found, though the tracks of their animals led through the thicket in everydirection. 

After beating about for several hours, Roblado and his troopers returnedto the Presidio. 

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE. 

Garcia was dead. Vizcarra was not, though, when taken up from where hehad fallen, he looked like one who had not long to live, and behavedlike one who was afraid to die. His face was covered with blood, andhis cheek showed the scar of a shot. He was alive however, --moaning andmumbling. Fine talking was out of the question, for several of histeeth had been carried away by the bullet. 

His wound was a mere face wound. There was not the slightest danger;but the "medico" of the place, a young practitioner, was notsufficiently master of his art to give him that assurance, and for somehours Vizcarra remained in anything but blissful ignorance of his fate. 

The garrison doctor had died but a short time before, and his place wasnot yet supplied. 

A scene of excitement for the rest of that day was the Presidio--notless so the town. The whole settlement was roused by the astoundingnews, which spread like a prairie fire throughout the length and breadthof the valley. 

It travelled in two different shapes. One was, that the settlement wassurrounded by "los barbaros, " headed by Carlos the cibolero; that theymust be in great numbers, since they had made an open attack upon themilitary stronghold itself; but that they had been beaten off by thevaliant soldiers after a desperate conflict, in which many were killedon both sides; that the officers were all killed, including theComandante; and that another attack might be looked for that night, which would most likely be directed against the town! This was thefirst shape of the "novedades. "

Another rumour had it that the "Indios mansos" had revolted; that theywere headed by Carlos the cibolero; that they had made an unsuccessfulattempt upon the Presidio, in which, as before, the valiant soldiers hadrepulsed them with great loss on both sides, including the Comandanteand his officers: that this was but the first outbreak of a greatconspiracy, which extended to all the Tagnos of the settlement, and thatno doubt the attack would be renewed that night!

To those who reflected, both forms of the rumour were incomprehensible. Why should "Indios bravos" attack the Presidio before proceeding againstthe more defenceless town as well as the several rich haciendas? Andhow could Carlos the cibolero be their leader? Why should he of allmen, --he who had just suffered at the hands of the savages? It waswell-known through the settlement that it was the cibolero's sister whohad been carried off. The idea of an Indian incursion, with him at thehead of it, seemed too improbable. 

Then, again, as to the conspiracy and revolt. Why the tame Indians wereseen labouring quietly in the fields, and those belonging to the missionwere working at their usual occupations! News, too, had come down fromthe mines--no symptoms of conspiracy had been observed there! A revoltof the Tagnos, with the cibolero at their head, would, of the tworumours, have been the more likely to be true; for it was well-known toall that these were far from content with their lot--but at presentthere was no appearance of such a thing around. There were they all attheir ordinary employments. Who, then, were the revolters? Bothrumours, therefore, were highly improbable. 

Half the town-people were soon gathered around the Presidio, and afterstories of all shapes had been carried back and forward, the definitefacts at length became known. 

These, however, were as mysterious and puzzling as the rumours. Forwhat reason could the cibolero have attacked the officers of thegarrison? Who were the Indians that accompanied him? Were they"bravos" or "mansos"?--savages or rebels?

The most remarkable thing was, that the soldiers themselves who hadtaken part in the imaginary "fight" could not answer these questions. Some said this, and some that. Many had heard the conversation betweenCarlos and the officers; but that portion of the affair, thoughperfectly natural in itself when taken in connexion with aftercircumstances, only rendered the whole more complicated and mysterious!The soldiers could give no explanation; and the people returned home, tocanvass and discuss the affair among themselves. Various versions werein vogue. Some believed that the cibolero had come with the _bona fide_desire to obtain help against the Indians--that those who accompaniedhim were only a few Tagnos whom he had collected to aid in the pursuit--and that the Comandante, having first promised to aid him, hadafterwards refused, and that this had led to the strange conduct of thecibolero!

There was another hypothesis that gained more credit than this. It wasthat Captain Roblado was the man whom the cibolero had desired to make avictim; that he was guided against him by motives of jealousy; for theconduct of Carlos on the day of the fiesta was well-known, and had beenmuch ridiculed--that, in failing to reach Roblado, he had quarrelledwith the Comandante, and so forth. 

Improbable as was this conjecture, it had many supporters, in theabsence of the true motive for the conduct of the cibolero. There werebut four men within the Presidio to whom this was known, and only threeoutside of it. By the general public it was not even suspected. 

In one thing all agreed--in condemning Carlos the cibolero. The garottawas too good for him; and when taken, they could all promise him amplepunishment. The very ingratitude of the act was magnified. It was butthe day before that these same officers had gone forth with theirvaliant soldiers to do him a service! The man must have been mad! Hismother had no doubt bewitched him. 

To have killed Lieutenant Garcia!--he who was such a favourite!_Carrambo_!

This was true. Garcia was liked by the people of the settlement--perhaps not so much from the possession of any peculiar virtues, but incontrast with his superiors. He was an affable, harmless sort ofperson, and had won general esteem. 

That night the cibolero had not one friend in San Ildefonso. Nay, wespeak wrongly. He had _one_. There was one heart beating for him asfondly as ever--Catalina's--but she, too, was ignorant of the motiveswhich had led to his mysterious conduct. 

Whatever these motives were, she knew they could not be otherwise thanjust. What to her were the calumnies--the gibes--that were heaped uponhim? What to her if he had taken the life of a fellow-creature? He hadnot done so without good cause--without some fearful provocation. Shebelieved that in her soul. She knew his noble nature too well to thinkotherwise. He was the lord of her heart, and could do no wrong!

Sorrowful, heart-breaking news was it to her. It boded longseparation--perhaps for ever! He dared no more visit the town--not eventhe settlement! He would be driven to the wild plains--hunted like thewolf or the savage bison--perhaps taken and slain! Bitter were herreflections. When should she see him again? Maybe, never!

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX. 

During all this time Vizcarra lay groaning upon his couch--not so muchwith pain as fear, for the fear of death still haunted him. But forthat, his rage would have been boundless; but this passion was inabeyance--eclipsed by the terrors that flitted across his conscience. 

Even had he been assured of recovery he would still have been in dread. His imagination was diseased by his dream and the after reality. Evensurrounded by his soldiers, he feared the cibolero, who appeared able toaccomplish any deed and escape its consequences. He did not even feelsecure there in his chamber, with guards at the entrance, against thatavenging arm!

Now, more than ever, he was desirous of getting rid of the cause--morethan ever anxious that she should be got rid of; but he reflected thatnow more than ever was that a delicate and difficult matter. It wouldundoubtedly get abroad _why_ the cibolero had made such a desperateattempt upon his life--it would spread until it reached high quarters--such a report could not be passed over--an investigation might beordered; and that, unless he could destroy every trace of suspicion, might be his ruin. 

These were his reflections while in the belief that he was going torecover; when a doubt of this crossed his mind, he grew still moreanxious about the result. 

Roblado had hinted at a way in which all might be arranged. He waitedwith impatience for the latter to make his appearance. The warlikecaptain was still engaged in beating the chapparal; but Gomez had comein and reported that he was about to give up the search, and return tothe Presidio. 

To Roblado the occurrences of the day had been rather pleasant thanotherwise; and a close observer of his conduct could have told this. Ifthere was anything in the whole business that really annoyed him, it wasthe wound of the Comandante--it was exasperating! Roblado, moreexperienced than the surgeon, knew this well. The friendship thatexisted between the two was a fellow-feeling in wickedness--a sort offelon's bond--durable enough so long as there was no benefit to eitherin breaking it. But this friendship did not prevent Roblado fromregretting with all his heart that the bullet had not hit _his friend_ alittle higher up or a little lower down--either in the skull or thethroat! He entertained this regret from no malice or ill-will towardsthe Comandante, but simply from a desire to benefit himself. It waslong since Roblado had been dreaming of promotion. He was not toohumble to hope he might one day command the Presidio himself. Vizcarra's death would have given him that station at once; but Vizcarrawas not to die just then, and this knowledge somewhat clouded the joy hewas then experiencing. 

And it was joy. Garcia and he had been enemies. There had beenjealousy and ill-will between them for long; therefore the lieutenant'sdeath was no source of regret to him. But the joy of Roblado owedpartly its origin to another consequence of that day's drama--one thataffected him more than any--one that was nearest his heart and hishopes. 

Absurd as appeared the pretensions of the cibolero in regard toCatalina, Roblado had learned enough of late to make him jealous--ay, even to give him real uneasiness. She was a strange creature, Catalinade Cruces--one who had shown proofs of a rare spirit--one not to bebought and sold like a _bulto_ of goods. She had taught both her fatherand Roblado a lesson of late. She had taught them that. She had struckthe ground with her little foot, and threatened a convent--the grave--iftoo rudely pressed! She had not rejected Roblado--that is, in word; butshe insisted on having _her own time to make answer_; and Don Ambrosiowas compelled to concede the point. 

Under such circumstances her suitor felt uneasy. Not so much that hewas jealous--though he did love her after his own fashion, and waspiqued at the thought of such a rival--but he feared that spirit ofhers, and dreaded that her splendid fortune might yet escape him. Sucha woman was capable of the wildest resolve. She _might_ take to aconvent; or maybe _to the plains_ with this base-born cibolero! Such anevent in the life of such a woman would be neither impossible norunlikely. In either case she could not take her fortune with her; butwhat mattered? it would not remain with him, Roblado. 

The conduct of the cibolero had removed all obstacles, so far as he wasconcerned. There was no longer any dread of rivalry from that source. His life was now forfeited. Not only would he be cut off from allcommunication with her, but he would not dare to show himself in thesettlement. A constant vigilance would be kept on foot to guard againstthat, and Roblado even promised himself the enjoyment of rare sport inhunting down his rival, and becoming at the same time his captor andexecutioner. 

These were the ideas that crossed the mind of the savage captain, andthat made him feel satisfied at the events of the day. 

After scouring the chapparal, and following the track of the supposedIndians to the ceja of the table plain, he returned with his men to thePresidio, to make preparations for a more prolonged pursuit. 

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN. 

Roblado's arrival brought relief to Vizcarra, as he lay chafing andfretting. 

Their conversation was, of course, upon the late occurrence, and Robladogave his account of the pursuit. 

"And do you really think, " inquired the Comandante, "that the fellow hada party of savages with him?"

"No!" answered Roblado. "I did think so at first--that is, the menthought so, and I was deceived by their reports. I am now convincedthey were not Indian bravos, but some of those Tagno friends of his: forit appears the padre was right--he had a suspicious connexion. That ofitself might have been sufficient cause for us to have arrested him longago; but now we need no cause. He is ours, when we can catch him. "

"How do you propose to act?"

"Why, I have no doubt he will lead us a long chase. We must do the bestwe can to follow his trail. I came back to provision the men so that wecan keep on for a sufficient time. The rascals have gone out of thevalley by the upper pass, and perhaps have taken to the mountains. Sothinks Gomez. We shall have to follow, and endeavour to overtake them. We must send express to the other settlements, so that the cibolero maybe captured if he make his appearance in any of them. I don't think hewill attempt that. "

"Why?"

"Why! because it appears the old witch is still alive! and, moreover, hewill hang around here so long as he has any hopes of recovering thesister. "

"Ha! you are right; he will do so. He will never leave me till she--"

"So much the better; we shall have all the finer opportunity of layinghands on him, which, believe me, my dear colonel, will be no easymatter. The fellow will be watchful as a wolf, and on that superb horseof his can escape from our whole troop. We'll have to capture him bysome stratagem. "

"Can you think of none?"

"I have been thinking of one. "

"What?"

"Why, it is simply this--in the first place, for the reasons I havegiven, the fellow will hang around the settlement. He may visit now andthen the old _hechicera_, but not often. The other would be a betterdecoy. "

"You mean her?" Vizcarra indicated the direction of the room in whichRosita was confined. 

"I do. He is said to be foolishly fond of this sister. Now, were shein a place where he could visit her, I'll warrant he would come there;and then we could trap him at our pleasure. "

"In a place!--where?" eagerly demanded Vizcarra. 

"Why, back to her own neighbourhood. They'll find some residence. Ifyou will consent to let her go for a while, you can easily recoverher--_the more easily when we have settled with him_!"

"Consent, Roblado!--it is the very thing I desire above all things. Mymind will not be easy while she is here. We are both in danger if sucha report should get in circulation. If it should reach certain ears, weare ruined--are we not?"

"Why, _now_ there is some truth in what you say, Garcia's death must bereported, and the cause will be inquired into. We must have _our_ storyas plausible as it can be made. There must be no colour of asuspicion--no rumour! It will be well to get her off our hands for thepresent. "

"But how--that it is that troubles me--how, without increasing thechances of suspicion? If we send her home, how is it to be explained?That would not be the act of _Indians_? You said you had some plan?"

"I _think_ I have. But first tell me, colonel, what did you mean bysaying she was _mad_?"

"That she was so; is so still, --so says Jose, --within the hour, muttering strange incongruities--knows not what is said to her. I tellyou, Roblado, it terrified _me_. "

"You are sure she knows not what is said to her?"

"Sure of it. "

"So much the better. She will then not remember where she is or _hasbeen_. Now I _know_ that I have a plan--nothing easier than to get heroff. She shall go back and tell--if she can tell anything--that she hasbeen in the hands of the Indians! That will satisfy you?"

"But how can it be arranged?"

"My dear Comandante, no difficulty in it. Listen! To-night, or beforeday in the morning, Gomez and Jose, in Indian costume as before, cancarry her off to some spot which I shall indicate. In the mountains beit. No matter how far off or how near. She may be tied, and found intheir company in the morning in such a way as to appear _their captive_. So much the better if she has recovered her senses enough to think so. Well; I with the troopers, in hunt after the cibolero, will come uponthese Indians by accident. A few shots may be fired at sufficientdistance to do them no hurt. They will make off, leaving their captive, whom we will rescue and bring back to the town, where she can bedelivered out of our hands! Ha! ha! ha! What think you, Comandante, ofmy scheme?"

"Excellent!" replied Vizcarra, his mind seemingly relieved at theprospect of its execution. 

"Why, it would blind the very devil! We shall not only be free fromsuspicion, but we'll get credit by it. What! a successful affair withthe savages!--rescue of a female captive!--restore her to her friends!--she, too, the sister of the very man who has endeavoured to assassinateyou! I tell you, Comandante, the cibolero himself, if that will be anycomfort to you, will be humbugged by it! She will swear--_if her wordbe worth anything_--that she has been in the hands of _los barbaros_ allthe while! She will give the lie even to her own brother!"

"The plan is excellent. It must be done to-night!"

"To-night, of course. As soon as the men have gone to bed, Gomez canstart with her. I must give over the idea of following the trail to-dayand, in truth, I regard that as idle. Our only chance for taking himwill be to set our trap, with her for its bait; and that we can arrangehereafter. Give yourself no farther uneasiness about it. By latebreakfast to-morrow I shall make my report to you, --Desperate affairwith Jicarillas, or Yutas--several warriors killed--female captiverescued--valiant conduct of troops--recommend Corporal--for promotion, etcetera. Ha! ha! ha!"

The Comandante joined in this laugh, which, perhaps, he would not havedone, but that Roblado had already assured him that his wound was not ofthe slightest danger, and would heal in a couple of weeks. 

Roblado had given him assurance of this by calling the doctor a fool, and heaping upon him other opprobrious epithets. The delivery, therefore, from the fear of apprehended death, as well as from the otherthought that was torturing him, had restored Vizcarra to a composure hehad not enjoyed for the twenty-four hours preceding; and he now began toimbibe, to its full extent, another passion--that of vengeance againstthe cibolero. 

That night, after tattoo had sounded, and the soldiers had retired totheir respective quarters, a small mounted party was seen to issue fromthe gateway of the Presidio, and take a road that led in the directionof the mountains. The party consisted of three individuals. One, closely wrapped, and mounted upon a mule, appeared to be a female. Theother two, oddly attired, and fantastically adorned with paint andfeathers, might have been taken for a brace of Indian warriors. Butthey were not Indians. They were Spanish soldiers in Indian disguise. They were Sergeant Gomez and the soldier Jose in charge of thecibolero's sister. 

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT. 

When Carlos reached the edge of the chapparal, his pursuers were stillonly parting from the walls of the Presidio. Of course none followedhim on foot, and it had taken the men some time to get their arms andhorses ready. So far as he was concerned, he no longer feared pursuit, and would have scorned to take a circuitous path. He had suchconfidence in the steed he bestrode, that he knew he could escape beforethe eyes of his pursuers, and need not have hidden himself in thechapparal. 

As he rode into the ambuscade he was thinking no longer of his ownsafety, but of that of Don Juan and his party. Their critical situationsuddenly came before his mind. How were _they_ to escape?

Even before he had half crossed the open ground this thought hadtroubled him more than his own peril, and a plan had been before him:--to make direct for the pass of La Nina, and shun the chapparalaltogether. This would have drawn the dragoons in the same directcourse; and Don Juan, with his Tagnos, might have got off at theirleisure. 

Carlos would have put this plan in execution, could he have trusted tothe prudence of Don Juan; but he feared to do so. The latter wassomewhat rash, and not over-sagacious. Seeing Carlos in the act ofescape, he might think it was his duty, as agreed upon, to show himselfand his men on the edge of the thicket--the very thing Carlos now wishedto prevent. For that reason the cibolero galloped direct to the placeof ambuscade, where Don Juan and his men were waiting in their saddles. 

"Thank God you are safe!" cried Don Juan; "but they are after you. Yonder they come in scores!"

"Yes!" replied Carlos, looking back; "and a good start I've gained onthem!"

"What's best to be done?" inquired Don Juan. "Shall we scatter throughthe chapparal, or keep together? They'll be upon us soon!"

Carlos hesitated a moment before making reply. Three plans of actionwere possible, offering more or less chance of safety. First, toscatter through the chapparal as Don Juan had suggested; second, to makeoff together and at once _without showing themselves_, taking the backtrack, as they had come; and, third, to _show themselves_ in front tothe pursuers, and then retire on the back path. Of course the idea offight was not entertained for a moment. That would have been idle, evenabsurd, under the circumstances. 

The mind of the cibolero, used to quick action, examined these planswith the rapidity of thought itself. The first was rejected without amoment's consideration. To have scattered through the chapparal wouldhave resulted in certain capture. The jungle was too small, not over acouple of miles in width, though extending to twice that length. Therewere soldiers enough to surround it, which they would do. They wouldbeat it from side to side. They could not fail to capture half theparty; and though these had made no demonstration as yet, they would beconnected with the affair at the Presidio, and would be severelypunished, if not shot down on the spot. 

To attempt to get off through the chapparal without showing themselvesat all would have been the plan that Carlos would have adopted, had henot feared that they would be overtaken before night. The Tagnos weremounted on mules, already jaded, while most of the troopers rode goodand swift horses. But for that Carlos might have hoped that they wouldescape unseen, and thus neither Don Juan nor his people would have beensuspected of having had any part in the affair. This would be animportant consideration for the future; but the plan was not to bethought of. The third plan was adopted. 

The hesitation of the cibolero was not half so long as the time you haveoccupied in reading of it. Scarce ten seconds elapsed ere he madereply, not to Don Juan alone, but to the whole band, in a voice loudenough for all to hear. The reply was in the form of a command. 

"Ride through the bush, all of you! Show yourselves near the front!your heads and shoulders only, with your bows! Give your war-cry! andthen back till you are out of sight! Scatter right and left!--Followme!"

As Carlos delivered these hurried directions, he dashed forward throughthe underwood and soon appeared near its edge. The Tagnos, guarded byDon Juan on one side and Antonio on the other, showed almostsimultaneously in an irregular line along the margin of the thicket; andflourishing their bows above their heads, they uttered a defiantwar-whoop, as though they were a party of savage Indians. 

It would have required a practised eye to have told from a shortdistance that they were not. Most of them were bare-headed, with longflowing hair; and, in fact, differing very little in appearance fromtheir brethren of the plains. They all had bows, a weapon still carriedby the Indios mansos when engaged in any hostilities; and their war-crydiffered not at all from some tribes called "bravos", "wild. " Many inthe band had but a short time left aside the full practice of warfare. Many of them were but neophytes to the arts of peace. 

The effect of the demonstration was just what the cibolero hadcalculated on. The soldiers, who were galloping forward in stragglingknots, and some of whom had got within three hundred paces of thechapparal, reined up in surprise. Several showed symptoms of a desireto gallop back again, but these were restrained at sight of a large bodyof their comrades now issuing from the Presidio. 

The whole of them were taken by surprise. They believed that the"Indios bravos" were in the chapparal, and no doubt in overwhelmingnumbers. Their belief was strengthened by the proceedings of theprevious days, in which they had done nought else, as they supposed, butride scout after "los barbaros. " The latter had now come after _them_!They halted, therefore, on the plains, and waited for their fellows tocome up. 

That this would be the effect of his _ruse_ Carlos foresaw. He nowdirected his companions to rein gently back, until they were once moreunder cover of the brush; and the whole party arrived at the spot wherethey had waited in ambush. 

Antonio then took the trail, and guided them through the chapparal; notas they had come to La Nina, but by a path that led to the upper plainby another pass in the cliffs. From a point in this pass they obtaineda distant view of the chapparal and the plain beyond. Though now fullthree miles from their place of ambush, they could see the valianttroopers still figuring on the open ground in front of it. They had notyet ventured to penetrate the dangerous underwood which they believed tobe alive with ferocious savages!

Carlos, having reached the upper plain, struck off with his band in adirection nearly north. His object was to reach a ravine at some tenmiles distance across the plain, and this was gained without a singlepursuer having appeared in the rear. 

This ravine led in an easterly direction as far as the Pecos bottom. Itwas the channel of a stream, in which water flowed in the rainy season, but was now quite dry. Its bed was covered with small pebbles, and ahorse-trail upon these was scarcely to be followed, as the track onlydisplaced the pebbles, leaving no "sign" that could be "read" to anyadvantage. Old and new foot-marks were all the same. 

Into this ravine the party descended, and, after travelling down it forfive or six miles, halted. Carlos called the halt for a specialobject--to detail a plan for their future proceeding, which had beenoccupying his attention during the last hour or two. 

As yet, none of the party were compromised but himself. It would notadvantage him that they should be, but the contrary. Neither Don Juannor Antonio had shown themselves out of the thicket; and the other duskyfaces, seen but for an instant through the brambles, could not have beenrecognised by the frightened troopers. If, therefore, Don Juan and hispeons could get back to their home without observation, for them allwould still be well. 

This was a possible event. At starting Carlos had cautioned secrecy asto the expedition. It had left at an early hour, before any one wasabroad, and no one knew of it. Indeed, no one in the valley was awarethat the cibolero had returned before the news of the affair at thePresidio. His mules had been quietly unpacked, and were herded at adistance from the rancho by one of his men. If, then, the _troopers_should not visit that neighbourhood before the following day, Don Juanand his people could go back in the night and engage in their usualoccupations without any suspicion. No doubt Roblado would be there inthe morning, but not likely before. It was natural to suppose he wouldfirst endeavour to follow the route they had taken, and it led almost inthe opposite direction from the house of Don Juan. To track them alongall the windings of that route would be the work of one day at least. Then their pursuers would be no wiser as to where they had betakenthemselves, for Carlos, from the point of halting, intended to adopt aplan that would be certain to throw the troopers off the trail. 

It was decided, in fine, that Don Juan and his people should returnhome--that the peons of Carlos should also go back to the rancho; roofit on the following day--for it only wanted that; and remain by it as ifnothing had occurred. They could not be made answerable for the deedsof their master. 

As for the cibolero himself, his residence must remain unknown, exceptto one or two of his tried friends. He knew where he should find ashelter. To him the open plain or the mountain cave was alike a home. He needed no roof. The starry canopy was as welcome as the gildedceiling of a palace. 

The Tagnos were enjoined to secrecy. They were not sworn. A Tagno isnot the man to talk; besides, they all knew that their own safety, perhaps their lives, depended on their silence. 

All these matters were at length arranged, but the party remained wherethey had halted till near sunset. They then mounted, and continued ondown the channel. 

When they had gone a mile or so, one of them climbed out of the ravine, and, heading southward, rode off across the plain. This direction wouldbring him back to the valley, by a pass near the lower end of thesettlement. It would be night by the time he could reach this pass, andhe was not likely to encounter any one on the route--now that the "wild"Indians were abroad!

Shortly after, a second Tagno left the ravine, and rode off in a linenearly parallel to that taken by the first. Soon another imitated theexample, and another, and another, until all had forsaken the ravineexcept Don Juan, Antonio, and the cibolero himself. The Tagnos had beeninstructed to reach home by different passes, and some of them, moresagacious, were sent by the most circuitous paths. There was no trooperbelonging to the Presidio likely to follow that trail. 

Carlos and his two companions, after riding to the farthest end of theravine, also turned to the right, and re-entered the valley of SanIldefonso at its lower extremity. It was quite dark, but all of themknew the road well, and about midnight they arrived near the house ofthe young ranchero. 

A reconnaissance was necessary before they dared approach. That wassoon made, and the report brought back that all was right, and notroopers had yet made their appearance. 

Carlos once more embraced his mother hurriedly, related what had passed, gave some instructions to Don Juan, and then, mounting his horse, rodeoff from the place. 

He was followed by Antonio and a pack-mule loaded with provisions. Theypassed down the valley, and struck out in the direction of the LlanoEstacado. 

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE. 

On the following day a new incident created a fresh surprise among theinhabitants of San Ildefonso, already excited by an unusual series of"novedades. " About noon a party of lancers passed through the town ontheir way to the Presidio. They were returning from a scout in searchof the "assassin"--so Carlos was designated. Of him they had found notraces; but they had fallen in with a large body of "Indios bravos"among the spurs of the mountains, with whom they had had a terrificconflict! This had resulted in the loss of great numbers killed on thepart of the Indians, who had contrived, as usual, to carry off theirdead--hence, the soldiers had returned without scalps! They hadbrought, however, --a far more positive trophy of victory--a young girlbelonging to the settlement, whom they had re-captured from thesavages, and whom Captain Roblado--the gallant leader of theexpedition--_supposed_ to be the same that had been carried off few daysbefore from a rancho at the lower end of the valley!

The captain halted in the plaza, with a few men--those in charge of therecovered captive. The remainder of the troop passed on to thePresidio. Roblado's object in stopping in the town, or in coming thatway--for it did not lie in his return route--was threefold. First, todeliver his charge into the hands of the civic authorities; secondly, tomake sure that everybody should witness the delivery, and be satisfiedby this living evidence that a great feat had been performed; andthirdly, that he might have the opportunity of a little swagger in frontof a certain balcony. 

These three objects the captain attained, but the last of them did notturn out quite to his satisfaction. Although the bugle had playedcontinuously, announcing the approach of a troop--although the recoveredcaptive was placed conspicuously in the ranks--and although his(Roblado's) horse, under the influence of sharp spurs, pitched himselfinto the most superb attitudes, all went for nothing--Catalina did notshow in the balcony! Among the faces of "dependientes" and "criados, "hers was not to be seen; and the triumphant look of the victoriousleader, as soon as he had ridden past, changed to a gloomy expression ofdisappointment. 

A few minutes after, he dismounted in front of the "Casa de Cabildo, "where he delivered the girl into the hands of the alcalde and otherauthorities of the town. This ceremony was accompanied by agrandiloquent speech, in which an account of the recapture was givenwith some startling details; sympathy was expressed for the parents ofthe girl, _whoever they might be_; and the speaker wound up byexpressing his opinion that the unfortunate captive could be no otherthan the young girl reported to have been carried off a few days before!

All this was very plausible and proper; and Roblado, having resigned hischarge to the keeping of the alcalde, mounted and rode off amidst astorm of complimentary phrases from the authorities, and "vivas" ofapplause from the populace. 

"_Dios lo pague, capitan_!" (God reward you, captain!) was the prayerthat reached his ears as he pushed through the crowd!

A keen physiognomist could at that moment have detected in the corner ofRoblado's eye a very odd expression--a mingling of irony with a strongdesire to laugh. In fact, the gallant captain could hardly keep frombursting out in the faces of his admirers, and was only restrained fromdoing so by the desire of keeping the joke bottled up till he couldenjoy it in the company of the Comandante--to whom he was now hastening. 

Back to the captive. 

The crowd pressed around her, all eager to gratify their curiosity. Strange to say that this feeling predominated. There was lessappearance of sympathy than might have been looked for under thecircumstances. The number of those that uttered the "pobrecita!"--thattender expression of Mexican pity--was few; and they were principallythe poor dark-skinned native women. The well-dressed shopkeepers, bothGachupinos and Criollos, both met and women, looked on withindifference, or with no other feeling than that of morbid curiosity. 

Such an indifference to suffering is by no means a characteristic of theNew Mexican people--I should rather say of the females of that land--forthe men are brutal enough. As regards the former, the very oppositecharacter is theirs. 

Their conduct would be unaccountable, therefore, but for the knowledgeof a fact which guided it on this occasion. They knew who the captivegirl was--they knew she was the sister of Carlos the cibolero--Carlos_the murderer_! This it was that checked the flow of their bettorfeelings. 

Against Carlos the popular indignation was strong. "Asesino", "ladron, ""ingrato, " were the terms used in speaking of him. A wretch! to havemurdered the good lieutenant--the favourite of the place; and for whatmotive? Some paltry quarrel or jealousy! What motive, indeed? Thereseemed no motive but a thirst of blood on the part of this "demonio, "this "guero heretico. " Ungrateful wretch, too, to have attempted thelife of the valiant Comandante--he who had been striving all he could torecover the assassin's sister from the Indian savages!

And now he had actually succeeded! Only think of it! There she was, brought safe home again by the agency of this very Comandante, who hadsent his captain and soldiers for her, --this very man whom he would havekilled! _Demonio! asesino! ladron_! They would all be glad to see himseated in the chair of the "garrote. " No "buen Catolico" would haveacted as he had done--no one but a sinful "heretico"--a blood-loving"Americano"! How he would be punished _when caught_!

Such were the feelings of all the populace, except, perhaps, the poorslaves--the _mansos_--and a very few Criollos, who, although notapproving of the acts of Carlos, held revolutionary principles, andhated the Spanish _regime_ with all their hearts. 

With such prejudice against the cibolero, no wonder that there was butlittle sympathy for the forlorn creature, his sister:

That it _was_ his sister no one doubted, although there were few on thespot who knew either. Up to the day of the fiesta her brother, now sonotorious, was but little known to the inhabitants of the town, which herarely visited--she less; and there were but few in the place who hadever seen her before that hour. But the identity was unmistakeable. The fair, golden hair, the white skin, the glowing red of the cheeks, though common in other parts of the world, were rare characteristics inNorth Mexico. The proclamation upon the walls described the "asesino"as possessing them. This could be no other than his sister. Besides, there were those who had seen her at the fiesta, where her beauty hadnot failed to attract both admiration and envy. 

She looked beautiful as ever, though the red was not so bright on hercheek, and a singular, wild expression appeared in her eyes. To thequestions put to her she either answered not or returned vague replies. She sat in silence; but several times broke forth into strange, unintelligible, exclamatory phrases, in which the words "Indios" and"barbaros" repeatedly occurred. 

"_Esta loco_!" ("She is mad!") muttered one to another; "she fanciesshe is still with the savages!"

Perhaps it was so. Certainly she was not among friends. 

The alcalde inquired if there was any one present--relative or friend--to whom he could deliver her up. 

A young girl, a poblana, who had just arrived on the spot, came forward. She knew the "pobrecita. " She would take charge of her, and conducther to her home. 

A half-Indian woman was in company with the poblana. It might have beenher mother. Between the two the restored captive was led away; and thecrowd soon dispersed and returned to their various avocations. 

The girl and her conductors turned into a narrow street that led throughthe suburb where the poorest people lived. Passing this, they emergedinto the open country; and then, following an unfrequented path throughthe chapparal, a few hundred yards brought them to a small mud rancho, which they entered. In a few minutes after a carreta, in which sat apeon, was driven up to the door, and stopped there. 

The poblana, leading the girl by the hand, came out of the house, andboth mounted into the carreta. As soon as the two were seated upon thebunches of dry "zacato" thrown into the carreta for this purpose, thedriver goaded his oxen and moved off. The vehicle, after passing out ofthe chapparal path, took the main road leading to the lower settlementsof the valley. 

As they moved on the poblana regarded her companion with kind looks, andassisted her in arranging her seat, so as to defend her as much aspossible against the joltings of the carreta. She added numerousexpressions of a sympathising and consolatory character, but none thatbespoke recognition or old acquaintance. It was evident that the girlhad never seen Rosita before. 

When they had got about a mile from the town, and were moving along anunfrequented part of the road, a horseman was seen coming after, and atsuch speed as to overtake them in a few minutes. He was mounted on apretty mustang that bore the signs of being well cared for. Its flankswere rounded with fat, and it capered as it galloped along. 

As it came close to the carreta the rider called out to the driver tostop; and it then appeared that the _horseman_ was a _woman_, as thesoft sweet voice at once indicated. More than that, the rider was a_senorita_, as the soft cheek, the silky hair, and the delicatefeatures, showed. At a distance it was natural enough to have taken herfor one of the opposite sex. A common serape covered her shoulders; abroad-brimmed sombrero concealed most of her black shining hair; and sherode according to the general custom of the country--the custom of itsmen. 

"Why, Senorita!--is it you?" asked the poblana, in a tone of surprise, and with a gesture of respect. 

"Ha! ha! you did not know me, then, Josefa?"

"No, Senorita;--_ay de mi_! how could I in that disguise?"

"Disguise do you call it? Why, it is the usual costume!"

"True, Senorita; but not for a grand senora like you. _Carrambo_!"

"Well, I think I must be disguised, as I passed several acquaintanceswho would not bow to me! Ha! ha!"

"_Pobrecita_--_ita_--_ita_!" continued she, suddenly changing her tone, and regarding Josefa's companion with a look of kind sympathy. "How shemust have suffered! Poor dear girl! I fear it is true what they havetold me. _Santisima Virgen_! how like--"

The phrase was left unfinished. The speaker had forgotten the presenceof Josefa and the peon, and was delivering her thoughts in too loud asoliloquy. The unfinished sentence had involuntarily escaped from herlips. 

Suddenly checking herself, she looked sharply towards the two. The peonwas busy with his oxen, but the poblana's face wore an expression ofcuriosity. 

"Like whom, Senorita?" innocently inquired she. 

"One whom I know. No matter, Josefa. " And, as the lady said this, sheraised her finger to her lips, and looked significantly towards thepeon. 

Josefa, who knew her secret, and who guessed the "one" meant, remainedsilent. After a moment the lady drew her mustang nearer the carreta, upon the side on which Josefa sat, and, bending over, whispered to thelatter:--

"Remain below till the morning; you will be too late to return to-night. Remain! perhaps you may hear something. Come early--not to the house. Be in time for _oration_. You will find me in the church. Perhaps youmay see Antonio. If so, give him this. " A diamond set in a goldencirclet sparkled a moment at the tips of the lady's fingers, and thenlay hid in the shut fist of the poblana. "Tell him _for whom_--he neednot know who sent it. There is money for your expenses, and some togive her; or give it to her mother, _if they will accept it_. " Here apurse fell in Josefa's lap. "Bring me news! oh, bring me news, dearJosefa! _Adios! adios_!"

The last salutation was uttered hurriedly; and, as the lady pronouncedit, she wheeled her glossy mustang and galloped back towards the town. 

She need not have doubted that Josefa would fulfil her instructionsabout "remaining below until the morning!" for the poblana was nearly, if not quite, as much interested as herself in this journey. The ratherpretty Josefa chanced to be the sweetheart of the half-blood Antonio;and whether she saw Antonio or not, she was not likely to hurry backthat night. If she did see him, so much the pleasanter to remain; ifnot, she should remain in the hope of such an event. 

With a full purse of "pesos"--a sixth of which would pay all expenses--and the prospect of meeting with Antonio, the rough carreta seemed allat once transformed to an elegant coach, with springs and velvetcushions, --such as Josefa had heard of, but had never seen!

The kind-hearted girl readjusted the seats, placed the head of Rosita onher lap, spread her reboso over her to keep off the evening dew, andthen told the peon to move on. The latter uttered a loud "ho-ha!"touched his oxen with the goad, and once more set them in motion alongthe dusty road. 

CHAPTER FORTY. 

Early morning prayer in the "iglesia" is a fashionable custom among thesenoras of Mexico--particularly among those who dwell in cities andtowns. Close upon the heels of daybreak you may see them issuing fromthe great doors of their houses, and hurrying through the streetstowards the chapel, where the bell has already begun its deafening"ding-dong. " They are muffled beyond the possibility of recognition--the richer in their silken shawls and mantas, the poorer in theirslate-coloured rebosos; under the folds of which each carries a littlebound volume--the "_misa_. "

Let us follow them into the sacred temple, and see what passes there. 

If we arrive late, and take station near the door we shall be presentedwith the spectacle of several hundred backs in a kneeling position--thatis, the individuals to whom the backs belong will be found kneeling. 

These backs are by no means alike--no more than faces are. They are ofall shapes, and sizes, and colours, and classes in the social scale. You will see the backs of ladies in shawls--some of whom have permittedthat elegant garment to fall to the shoulders, while others retain itover the crowns of their heads, thus creating two very distinct stylesof back. You will see the backs of pretty poblanas, with the end oftheir rebosos hanging gracefully over them; and the back of thepoblana's mother with the reboso ill arranged, and not over clean. Youwill see the back of the merchant scarcely covered with a short clothjacket, and the back of the "aguador" cased in well-worn leather; theback of the "guapo" muffled in a cloak of fine broad-cloth, and that ofthe "lepero" shrouded in a ragged scrape; and then you will see broadbacks and slender ones, straight backs and crooked ones; and you run agood chance of beholding a hunch or two--especially if the church be ina large town. But wheresoever you enter a Mexican iglesia duringprayer-time, I promise you the view of an extensive assortment of backs. Not classified, however. Quite the contrary. The back of the shawledlady may be inclusive between two greasy rebosos, and the striped orspeckled back of the lepero may rise up alongside the shiningbroad-cloth of the dandy! I do not answer for any classification of thebacks; I only guarantee their extensive number and variety. The onlyface that is likely to confront you at this moment will be the shavenphiz of a fat priest, in full sacerdotal robes of linen, that were once, no doubt, clean and white, but that look now as if they had been sent tothe buck-basket, and by some mistake brought back before reaching thelaundry. This individual, with a look as unlike heaven as the wickedestof his flock, will be seen stirring about on his little stage; nowcarrying a wand--now a brazen pot of smoking "incense, " and anon somewaxen doll--the image of a saint; while in the midst of hismanipulations you may hear him "murmuring" a gibberish of ill-pronouncedLatin. If you have witnessed the performance of M. Robin, or the "GreatWizard, " you cannot fail to be reminded of them at this moment. 

The tinkling of a little bell, which you will presently hear, has amagical effect upon the backs. For a short while you may have observedthem in an odd attitude--not erect as backs ought to be, but slouchingand one-sided. During this interval, too, you may catch a glance of aface--merely the profile--and if it be pretty, you will forget the back;but then the party is no longer a back in the proper sense. You won'tbe struck with the devotion of the profile, if you are with itsprettiness. You may observe it wink or look cunningly, and, if yourobservation be good, you may note another profile, of coarser mould, corresponding to that wink or cunning glance. This goes on while thebacks are in their "slouch" or attitude of repose. How that attitude isproduced will be to you a mystery, an anatomical puzzle; but it may beexplained. It is simple enough to those who know it. It is broughtabout by the back changing its base from the marrow-bones to the hips;and this is done so adroitly, that, under cover of shawls, mantas, rebosos, and skirts, it is no wonder you are puzzled by it. 

The little bell, however, brings the backs all right again. It is tothese devotees what the "Attention!" is to the rank and file of an army;and the moment the first tinkle is heard, backs up is the movement, andall become suddenly elevated several inches above their former standard. Thus they remain, stiff and erect, while the priest mumbles a fresh"Ave Maria, " or "Pater noster, " and goes through a fresh exhibition ofpantomime. Then the backs are suddenly shortened again, the profilesappear as before--nods, and winks, and cunning glances, are exchanged--and that till the little bell sounds a second time. And then there willbe a third course of this performance, and a fourth, and so on, till theworship (!) is ended. 

This ridiculous genuflexion and mummery you may see repeated everymorning in a Mexican "iglesia, " long before the hour of breakfast. Bothmen and women engage in it, but by far the greater number of thedevotees are of the gentler sex, and many of them the fashionablesenoras of the place. 

One is inclined to inquire into the motives that draw so many people outof their beds, to shiver through the streets and in the cold church atsuch an early hour. Is it religion? Is it superstition? Is itpenance? Is it devotion? No doubt many of these silly creatures reallybelieve that the act is pleasing to God; that these genuflexions andorisons, mechanically repeated, will give them grace in His eyes. Butit is very certain that many of the most constant attendants on thesemorning prayers are actuated by very different feelings. In a land ofjealous men you will find the women peculiarly intelligent and cunning, and the matutinal hour is to them the "golden opportunity. " He is avery jealous guardian, indeed, whose vigil tempts him from his couch atso chill an hour!

Await the end of the performance by the door of the "iglesia. " Therestands a large vase filled with the consecrated water. Each, in passingout, takes a dip and a sprinkle. In this basin you will see the smalljewelled hand immerse its finger-tips, and the next moment adroitlydeliver a _carte d'amour_ to some cloaked cavallero. Perhaps you maysee the wealthy senora, in the safe disguise of the serape, leave thechurch in a direction opposite to that by which she came. If you arecurious enough to follow--which would be extremely ill-bred--you maywitness under the trees of the "alameda, " or some unfrequented quarter, the forbidden "_entrevista_. "

The morning, in a Mexican city, has its adventures as well as the night. 

The bell of the church of San Ildefonso had just commenced to ring for"oracion, " when a female form was seen issuing from the gateway of oneof the largest mansions of the town, and taking the direction of thechurch. It was yet scarce daybreak, and the person thus observed wasclosely muffled; but her tall upright form, the dignity and grace of hercarriage, and the proud elastic step told that she was a grand senora. As she reached the portal of the church she stopped for some moments andlooked around. Her face was not visible, as it was "tapada" under thefolds of a closely-drawn manta; but her attitude, with her headoccasionally moving around, showed that she was scanning the figuresthat, at the summons of the bell, approached like shadows through thegrey light. She was evidently expecting some one; and from the eagerscrutiny with which she regarded each new form that entered the plaza, it was some one whose presence was much desired. 

The last of the devotees had arrived and entered the church. It wouldbe idle to remain longer; and, turning on her heel with an air thatbetokened disappointment, the lady glided across the portal, anddisappeared through the door. 

In another moment she was kneeling in front of the altar, repeating herorisons and telling over the beads of her rosary. 

She was not the last to enter the church; still another devotee camelater. About the time that she was leaving the portal a carreta droveinto the plaza, and halted in a remote corner. A young girl leaped outof the carreta, tripped nimbly across the square, in the direction ofthe church, and passed within the portal. The dress of this new-comer--a flaming red "nagua, " broidered chemisette, and reboso--showed that shebelonged to the poorer class of citizens. She was a poblana. 

She entered the church, but before kneeling she threw an inquiringglance along the array of backs. Her eye became fixed upon one that wascovered with a manta. It was that of the lady of whom we have spoken. This seemed to satisfy the poblana, who, gliding over the floor, kneltdown in such a position that her elbow almost rested against that of thelady. 

So silently had this movement been executed that the lady did notperceive her new neighbour until a slight "nudge" upon the elbow causedher to start and look round. A gleam of satisfaction lit up herfeatures, though her lips continued to repeat the prayer, as if nothinghad happened. 

After a while came the cue for adopting the pose of rest, and then thetwo kneeling figures--senorita and poblana--dropped towards each other, so that their arms touched. A moment later and two hands becameuncovered--one a little brown-skinned paw from under the reboso--theother, a delicate arrangement of white and jewelled fingers, from themanta. 

They came in contact as if by a mutual understanding, and, though theywere _en rapport_ but a half-second, a close observer might have noticeda small roll of paper passed from one to the other--from the brownfingers to the white ones! It would have required a close observer tohave noticed this manoeuvre, for so adroitly was it executed that noneof those kneeling around, either in front or rear, saw anything amiss. 

The two hands again disappeared under their respective covers; thelittle bell tinkled, and both senora and poblana once more shot into anupright position, and, with most devout looks, repeated the prayers ofthe misa. 

When the "oracion" was over, and while sprinkling themselves at thesacred fount, a few hurried words passed between them; but they went outof the church separately, and walked off in separate directions. Thepoblana hastened across the square, and disappeared into a narrowstreet. The senora walked proudly back to the mansion whence she hadcome, her countenance radiant with joyful anticipation. 

As soon as she had entered the house she proceeded directly to her ownchamber, and, opening the little folded slip of paper, read:--

"Querida Catalina!--You have made me happy. But an hour ago I was themost wretched of men. I have lost my sister, and I feared your esteem. Both are restored to me. My sister is by my side, and the gem thatsparkles on my finger tells me that even calumny has failed to rob me ofyour friendship--your love. _You_ do not deem me an assassin. No; noram I one. I have been an avenger, but no assassin. You shall knowall--the fearful plot of which I and mine have been the victims. It isscarce credible--so great is its atrocity! I am indeed its victim. Ican no more show myself in the settlement. I am henceforth to be huntedlike the wolf, and treated as one, if captured. I care not for that, solong as I know that you are not among my enemies. 

"But for you I should go far hence. I cannot leave you. I would soonerrisk life every hour in the day, than exile myself from the spot whereyou dwell--you, the only being I can ever love. 

"I have kissed the gem a hundred times. In life, the sweet token cannever part from me. 

"My foes are after me like bloodhounds, but I fear them not. My bravesteed is never out of my sight, and with him I can scorn my cowardlypursuers. But I must venture one visit to the town. I must see youonce, querida. I have words for you I cannot trust to paper. Do notrefuse to see me, and I shall come to the old place of meeting. To-morrow night--midnight. Do not refuse me, dearest love. I have muchto explain that I cannot without seeing you face to face. You shallknow that I am not an assassin--that I am still worthy of being yourlover. 

"Thanks!--thanks for your kindness to my poor little wounded bird! Itrust to God she will soon be well again. _Mi querida. Adios_!"

When the beautiful lady had finished reading the note, she pressed it toher lips, and fervently kissed it. 

"Worthy of being my lover!" she murmured; "ay, worthy to be the lover ofa queen! Brave, noble Carlos!"

Again she kissed the paper, and, thrusting it into her bosom, glidedsoftly from the apartment. 

CHAPTER FORTY ONE. 

Vizcarra's desire for revenge grew stronger every hour. The almostjoyful reaction he had experienced, when relieved from the fear ofdeath, was short-lived. So, too, was that which followed his relieffrom the anxiety about his captive. The thought that now tortured himwas of a different character. The very breath of his existence--hispersonal appearance--was ruined for ever. He was disfigured for life!

When the mirror was passed before his face, it caused his heart to burnlike a coal of fire. Coward though he was, he would almost as soon havebeen killed outright. 

Several of his teeth were gone. They might have been replaced; but notso could be restored the mutilated cheek. A portion had been carriedoff by the "tear" of the bullet. There would be a hideous scar never tobe healed!

The sight was horrible. His thoughts were horrible. He groanedoutright as he contemplated the countenance which the cibolero had givenhim. He swore vengeance. Death and torture if he could but captureCarlos--death to him and his!

At times he even repented that he had sent away the sister. Why shouldhe have cared for consequences? Why had he not revenged himself upon_her_? He no longer loved her. Her scornful laugh still rankled in hisheart. She had been the cause of all his sufferings--of sufferings thatwould never end but with his life--chagrin and mortification for therest of his days! Why had he not taken _her_ life? That would havebeen sweet revenge upon the brother. It would almost have beensatisfaction. 

He tossed upon his couch, tortured with these reflections, and givingutterance at intervals to groans of anguish and horrid imprecations. 

Carlos must be captured. No effort must be spared to ensure that event. And captured _alive_ if possible. He should measure out thepunishment. It should be death, but not sudden death. No; the savagesof the plains should be his teachers. The cibolero should die like acaptive Indian--by fire at the stake. Vizcarra swore this!

After him, the mother, too. She was deemed a witch. She should bepunished as often witches have been. In this he would not have to actalone. He knew that the padres would endorse the act. They were wellinclined to such fanatical cruelties. 

Then the sister, alone--uncared for by any one. She would be wholly inhis power--to do with her us he would, and no one to stay his will. Itwas not love, but revenge. 

Such terrible resolves passed through the mind of the wretched caitiff. 

Roblado was equally eager for the death of the cibolero. His vanity hadbeen scathed as well, for he was now satisfied that Catalina was deeplyinterested in the man, if not already on terms of intimacy--on terms oflove, mutually reciprocated and understood. He had visited her sincethe tragical occurrence at the Presidio. He had observed a markedchange in her manner. He had thought to triumph by the malignant abuseheaped on the _assassin_; but she, although she said nothing in defenceof the latter--of course she could not--was equally silent on the otherside, and showed no symptoms of indignation at the deed. His(Roblado's) abusive epithets, joined to those which her own fatherliberally heaped upon the man, seemed to give her pain. It was plainshe would have defended him had she dared!

All this Roblado had noticed during his morning call. 

But more still had he learnt, for he had a spy upon her acts. One ofher maids, Vicenza, who for some reason had taken a dislike to hermistress, was false to her, and had, for a length of time, been theconfidant of the military wooer. A little gold and flattery, and asoldier-sweetheart--who chanced to be Jose--had rendered Vicenzaaccessible. Roblado was master of her thoughts, and through Jose hereceived information regarding Catalina, of which the latter neverdreamt. This system of espionage had been but lately established, butit had already produced fruits. Through it Roblado had gained theknowledge that he himself was hated by the object of his regard, andthat she loved some other! What other even Vicenza could not tell. That other Roblado could easily guess. 

It is not strange that he desired the capture and death of Carlos thecibolero. He was as eager for that event as Vizcarra himself. 

Both were making every exertion to bring it about. Alreadyscouting-parties had been sent out in different directions. Aproclamation had been posted on the walls of the town, --the jointproduction of the Comandante and his captain, offering a high reward forthe cibolero's head, and a still higher sum for the cibolero himself ifcaptured alive!

The citizens, to show their zeal and loyalty, had also issued aproclamation to the same effect, heading it with a large sum subscribedamong them--a very fortune to the man who should be so lucky as to bethe captor of Carlos. This proclamation was signed by all the principalmen of the place, and the name of Don Ambrosio figured high upon thelist! There was even some talk of getting up a volunteer company toassist the soldiers in the pursuit of the _heretico_ assassin, or ratherto earn the golden price of his capture. 

With such a forfeit on his head, it was an enigma how Carlos should belong alive!

Roblado sat in his quarters busy devising plans for the capture. He hadalready sent his trustiest spies to the lower end of the valley, andthese were to hover day and night in the neighbourhood. Any informationof the haunts of the cibolero, or of those with whom he was formerly incorrespondence, was to be immediately brought to him, and would be wellpaid for. A watch was placed on the house of the young ranchero, DonJuan; and though both Vizcarra and Roblado had determined on specialaction with regard to him, they agreed upon leaving him undisturbed forthe present, as that might facilitate their plans. The spies who hadbeen employed were not soldiers, but men of the town and poor rancheros. A military force appealing below would frustrate their design. That, however, was kept in readiness, but its continued presence near therancho, thought Vizcarra and his captain, would only frighten the bird, and prevent it from returning to its nest. There was good logic inthis. 

Roblado, as stated, was in his quarters, completing his arrangements. Aknock aroused him from the contemplation of some documents. They werecommunications from his spies, which had just reached the Presidio, addressed both to himself and the Comandante. They were concerning theaffair. 

"Who is it?" he asked, before giving the privilege to enter. 

"I, captain, " answered a sharp squeaky voice. 

Roblado evidently knew the voice, for he called out--

"Oh! it is you? Come in, then. "

The door opened, and a small dark man, of sharp weasel-like aspect, entered the room. He had a skulking shuffling gait, and, notwithstanding his soldier's dress, his sabre and his spurs, the manlooked mean. He spoke with a cringing accent, and saluted his officerwith a cringing gesture. He was just the sort of person to be employedupon some equivocal service, and by such men as Vizcarra and Roblado;and in that way he had more than once served them. It was the soldierJose. 

"Well! what have you to say? Have you seen Vicenza?"

"I have, captain. Last night I met her out. "

"Any news?"

"I don't know whether it may be news to the captain; but she has told methat it was the senorita who sent her home yesterday. "

"Her?"

"Yes, captain, the guera. "

"Ha! go on!"

"Why, you know when you left her with the alcalde she was offered towhoever would take her. Well, a young girl came up and claimed to be anacquaintance, and a woman who was the girl's mother. She was given upto them without more ado, and they took her away to a house in thechapparal below the town. "

"She did not stay there. I know she's gone down, but I have not yetheard the particulars. How did she go?"

"Well, captain; only very shortly after she arrived at the house of thewoman, a carreta came up to the door, driven by a Tagno, and the girl--that is, the daughter, who is called Josefa--mounted into the carreta, taking the guera along with her; and off they went down below. 

"Now, neither this girl nor her mother ever saw the guera before, andwho does captain think sent them, and the carreta too?"

"Who says Vicenza?"

"The senorita, captain. "

"Ha!" sharply exclaimed Roblado. "Vicenza is sure of that. "

"More than that, captain. About the time the carreta drove away, or alittle after, the senorita left the house on her horse, and with acommon serape over her, and a sombrero on her head, like any ranchera;and in this--which I take to be a disguise for a lady of quality likeher--she rode off by the back road. Vicenza, however, thinks that sheturned into the _camino abajo_ after she got past the houses, andovertook the carreta. She was gone long enough to have done so. "

This communication seemed to make a deep impression upon the listener. Shadows flitted over his dark brow, and gleams of some new intelligenceor design appeared in his eyes. He was silent for a moment, engaged incommunicating with his thoughts. At length he inquired--

"Is that all your information, Jose?"

"All, captain. "

"There may be more from the same source. See Vicenza to-night again. Tell her to keep a close watch. If she succeed in discovering thatthere is a correspondence going on, she shall be well rewarded, and_you_ shall not be forgotten. Find out more about this woman and herdaughter. Know the Tagno who drove them. Lose no time about it. Go, Jose!"

The minion returned his thanks in a cringing tone, made another cringingsalute, and shuffled out of the room. 

As soon as he had left, Roblado sprang to his feet, and, walking aboutthe room in an agitated manner, uttered his thoughts aloud:--

"By Heaven! I had not thought of this. A correspondence, I have nodoubt. Fiends! such a woman! She must know all ere this--if the fellowhimself is not deceived by us! I must watch in that quarter too. Whoknows but _that_ will be the trap in which we'll take him? Love is evena stronger lure than brotherly affection. Ha! senorita; if this betrue, I'll yet have a purchase upon you that you little expect. I'llbring you to terms without the aid of your stupid father!"

After figuring about for some minutes, indulging in these alternatedreams of vengeance and triumph, he left his room, and proceeded towardsthat of the Comandante, for the purpose of communicating to the latterhis new-gotten knowledge. 

CHAPTER FORTY TWO. 

The house of Don Ambrosio de Cruces was not a town mansion. It wassuburban--that is, it stood upon the outskirts of the village, someseven or eight hundred yards from the Plaza. It was detached from theother buildings, and at some distance from any of them. It was neithera "villa" nor a "cottage. " There are _no_ such buildings in Mexico, noranything at all resembling them. In fact, the architecture of thatcountry is of unique and uniform style, from north to south, throughsome thousand miles of latitude! The smaller kinds of houses, --theranchos of the poorer classes, --show a variety corresponding to thethree thermal divisions arising from different elevation--_caliente_, _templada_, and _fria_. In the hot lands of the coast, and some lowvalleys in the interior, the rancho is a frail structure of cane andpoles with a thatch of palm-leaves. On the elevated "valles, " ortable-plains--and here, be it observed, dwell most of the population--itis built of "adobes, " and this rule is universal. On the forest-coveredsides of the more elevated mountains the rancho is a house of logs, a"log-cabin, " with long hanging eaves and shingled roof, differingentirely from the log-cabin of the American backwoods, and far excellingthe latter in neatness and picturesque appearance. 

So much for the "ranchos. " About them there is some variety of style. Not so with "casas grandes, " or houses of the rich. A samenesscharacterises them through thirty degrees of latitude--from oneextremity of Mexico to the other; and, we might almost add, throughoutall Spanish America. If now and then a "_whimsical_" structure beobserved, you may find, on inquiry, that the owner is some foreignerresident--an English miner, a Scotch manufacturer, or a German merchant. 

These remarks are meant only for the houses of the country. In smallvillages the same style as the country-house is observed, with veryslight modifications; but in large towns, although some of thecharacteristics are still retained, there is an approximation to thearchitecture of European cities--more particularly, of course, to thoseof Spain. 

The house of Don Ambrosio differed very little from the general fashionof "casas grandes" of country style. It had the same aspect of gaol, fortress, convent, or workhouse--whichever you please; but this aspectwas considerably lightened by the peculiar colouring of the walls, whichwas done in broad vertical bands of red, white, and yellow, alternatingwith each other! The effect produced by this arrangement of gay coloursis quite Oriental, and is a decided relief to the otherwise heavyappearance of a Mexican dwelling. In some parts of the country thisfashion is common. 

In shape there was no peculiarity. Standing upon the road in front yousee a long wall, with a large gateway near the middle, and three or fourwindows irregularly set. The windows are shielded with bars ofwrought-iron standing vertically. That is the "reja. " None of themhave either sash or glass. The gateway is closed by a heavy woodendoor, strongly clasped and bolted with iron. This front wall is but onestorey high, but its top is continued so as to form a parapet, breast-high above the roof, and this gives it a loftier appearance. Theroof being flat behind, the parapet is not visible from below. Lookaround the corner at either end of this front wall. You will see nogable--there is no such thing on a house of the kind we are describing. In its place you will see a dead wall of the same height as the parapet, running back for a long distance; and were you to go to the end of it, and again look around the corner, you would find a similar wall at theback closing in the parallelogram. 

In reality you have not yet seen the true front of Don Ambrosio's house, if we mean by that the part most embellished. A Mexican spends butlittle thought on the outside appearance of his mansion. 

It is only from the courtyard, or "patio, " you can get a view of thefront upon which the taste of the owner is displayed, and this oftenexhibits both grandeur and elegance. 

Let us pass through the gateway, and enter the "patio. " The "portero, "when summoned by knock or bell, admits us by a small door, forming partof the great gate already mentioned. We traverse an arched way, the"zaguan, " running through the breadth of the building, and then we arein the patio. From this we have a view of the real front of the house. 

The patio itself is paved with painted bricks--a tessellated pavement. A fountain, with jet and ornamental basin, occupies its centre; andseveral trees, well trimmed, stand in large vessels, so that their rootsmay not injure the pavement. Around this court you see the doors of thedifferent apartments, some of them glazed and tastefully curtained. Thedoors of the "sala, " the "cuarto, " and the sleeping-rooms, are on threesides, while the "cocina" (kitchen), the "dispensa" (store-room), "granero" (granary), with the "caballeriza" and coach-house, make up theremaining part of the square. 

There is still an important portion of the mansion to be spoken of--the"azotea, " or roof. It is reached by an "escalera, " or stone staircase. It is flat and quite firm, being covered with a cement that is proofagainst rain. It is enclosed by a parapet running all round it--of sucha height as not to hinder the view of the surrounding country, while itprotects those occupying it from the intrusive gaze of persons passingbelow. When the sun is down, or behind a cloud, the azotea is a mostagreeable promenade; and to render it still more so, that over the houseof Don Ambrosio had been arranged so as to resemble a flower-garden. Richly japanned pots, containing rare flowers, were placed around, andgreen boughs and gay blossoms, rising above the top of the wall, produced a fine effect on viewing the building from without. 

But this was not the only garden belonging to the mansion of the richminer. Another, of oblong shape, extended from the rear of the house, enclosed by a high wall of adobes on either side. These, ending uponthe bank of the stream, formed the boundary of the garden. Along thestream there was no fence, as it was here of sufficient breadth anddepth to form an enclosure of itself. The garden was of large extent, including an orchard of fruit-trees at its lower part, and it wastastefully laid out in walks, flowerbeds, and arbours of differentshapes and sizes. Don Ambrosio, although but a rich _parvenu_, mighthave been supposed to be a man of refined taste by any one viewing thisgarden--the more so, as such delightful retreats are by no means commonin that country. But it was to another mind than his that these shadowytrees and fragrant arbours owed their existence. They were the "ideas"of his fair daughter, many of whose hours were spent beneath theirshade. 

To Don Ambrosio the sight of a great cavity in the earth, with hugequarries of quartz rock or scoria, and a rich "veta" at the back, wasmore agreeable than all the flowers in the world. A pile of "barras deplata" would be to his eyes more interesting than a whole countrycovered with black tulips and blue dahlias. 

Not so his fair daughter Catalina. Her taste was both elevated andrefined. The thought of wealth, the pride of riches, never entered hermind. She would willingly have surrendered all her much-talked-ofinheritance to have shared the humble rancho of him she loved. 

CHAPTER FORTY THREE. 

It was near sunset. The yellow orb was hastening to kiss the snowysummit of the Sierra Blanca, that barred the western horizon. The whitemantle, that draped the shoulders of the mountain, reflected beautifulroseate tints deepening into red and purple in the hollows of theravines, and seeming all the more lovely from the contrast of the darkforests that covered the Sierra farther down. 

It was a sunset more brilliant than common. The western sky was filledwith masses of coloured clouds, in which gold and purple and ceruleanblue mingled together in gorgeous magnificence; and in which the eye ofthe beholder could not fail to note the outlines of strange forms, andfancy them bright and glorious beings of another world. It was apicture to gladden the eye, to give joy to the heart that was sad, andmake happier the happy. 

It was not unobserved. Eyes were dwelling upon it--beautiful eyes; andyet there was a sadness in their look that ill accorded with the pictureon which they were gazing. 

But those eyes were not drawing their inspiration from the sky-paintingbefore them. Though apparently regarding it, the thoughts which gavethem expression were drawn from a far different source. The heartwithin was dwelling upon another object. 

The owner of those eyes was a beautiful girl, or rather a fullydeveloped woman still unmarried. She was standing upon the azotea of anoble mansion, apparently regarding the rich sunset, while, in reality, her thoughts were busy with another theme, and one that was lesspleasant to contemplate. Even the brilliant glow of the sky, reflectedupon her countenance, did not dissipate the shadows that were passingover it. The clouds from within overcame the light from without. Therewere shadows flitting over her heart that corresponded to those thatdarkened her fair face. 

It was a beautiful face withal, and a beautiful form--tall, majestic, ofsoft graces and waving outlines. The lady was Catalina de Cruces. 

She was alone upon the azotea--surrounded only by the plants andflowers. Bending over the low parapet that overlooked the garden to therear, she at the same time faced toward the sinking orb, --for the gardenextended westward. 

Now and then her eyes were lifted to the sky and the sun; but oftenerthey sought the shaded coppice of wild-china-trees at the bottom of theenclosure, through whose slender trunks gleamed the silvery surface ofthe stream. Upon this spot they rested from time to time, with anexpression of strange interest. No wonder that to those eyes that wasan interesting spot--it was that where love's first vows had beenuttered in her delighted ear--it had been consecrated by a kiss, and inher thoughts it was hallowed from the "earth's profound" to the highheaven above her. No wonder she regarded it as the fairest on earth. The most famed gardens of the world--even Paradise itself--in herimagination, had no spot so sweet, no nook so shady, as the littlearbour she had herself trained amid the foliage of thosewild-china-trees. 

Why was she regarding it with a look of sadness? In that very arbour, and on that very night, did she expect to meet him--the one who hadrendered it sacred. Why then was she sad? Such a prospect should haverendered her countenance radiant with joy. 

And so was it, at intervals, when this thought came into her mind; butthere was another--some other thought--that brought those clouds uponher brow, and imparted that air of uneasy apprehension. What was thatthought?

In her hand she held a bandolon. She flung herself upon a bench, andbegan to play some old Spanish air. The effort was too much for her. Her thoughts wandered from the melody, and her fingers from the strings. 

She laid down the instrument, and, again rising to her feet, pacedbackwards and forwards upon the azotea. Her walk was irregular. Atintervals she stopped, and, lowering her eyes, seemed to think intentlyon something that was absent. Then she would start forward, and stopagain in the same manner as before. This she repeated several times, without uttering either word or exclamation. 

Once she continued her walk all around the azotea, casting ascrutinising look among the plants and flower-pots on both sides, as ifin search of something; but whatever it was, she was unsuccessful, asnothing appeared to arrest her attention. 

She returned once more, and took up the bandolon. But her fingers hadhardly touched the strings before she laid the instrument down again, and rose from the bench, as if some sudden resolution had takenpossession of her. 

"I never thought of that--I may have dropped it in the garden!" shemuttered to herself, as she glided toward a small escalera that led downinto the patio. 

From this point an avenue communicated with the garden; and the nextmoment she had passed through this and was tripping over the sandedwalks, bending from side to side, and peeping behind every plant andbush that could have concealed the object of her search. 

She explored every part of the enclosure, and lingered a moment in thearbour among the china-trees--as if she enjoyed that spot more than anyother--but she came back at length with the same anxious expression, that told she was not rewarded by the recovery of whatever she had lost. 

The lady once more returned to the azotea--once more took up thebandolon; but after a few touches of the strings, laid it down, andagain rose to her feet. Again she soliloquised. 

"_Carrambo_! it is very strange!--neither in my chamber--the sala, thecuarto, the azotea, the garden!--where can it be? O Dios! if it shouldfall into the hands of papa! It is too intelligible--it could not failto be understood--no--no--no! O Dios! if it should reach other hands!--those of _his_ enemies! It names to-night--true, it does not tell theplace, but the time is mentioned--the place would be easily discovered. Oh! that I knew where to communicate with him! But I know not, and hewill come. _Ay de mi_! it cannot be prevented now. I must hope noenemy has got it. But where can it be? Madre de Dios! where can itbe?"

All these phrases were uttered in a tone and emphasis that showed theconcern of the speaker at the loss of some object that greatlyinterested her. That object was no other than the note brought byJosefa, and written by Carlos the cibolero, in which the assignation forthat night had been appointed. No wonder she was uneasy at its loss!The wording not only compromised herself, but placed the life of herlover in extreme peril. This it was that was casting the dark shadowsover her countenance--this it was that was causing her to traverse theazotea and the garden in such anxious search. 

"I must ask Vicenza, " she continued. "I like not to do it, for I havelost confidence in her of late. Something has changed this girl. Sheused to be frank and honest, but now she has grown false andhypocritical. Twice have I detected her in the act of deceiving me. What does it mean?"

She paused a moment as if in thought. "I must ask her notwithstanding. She may have found the paper, and, not deeming it of any use may havethrown it in the fire. Fortunately she does not read, but she has to dowith others who can. Ha! I forgot her soldier sweetheart! If sheshould have found it, and shown it to him! _Dios de mi alma_!"

This supposition seemed a painful one, for it caused the lady's heart tobeat louder, and her breathing became short and quick. 

"That would be terrible!" she continued, --"that would be the very worstthing that could happen. I do not like that soldier--he appears meanand cunning and I have heard is a bad fellow, though favoured by theComandante. God forfend he should have gotten this paper! I shall loseno more time. I shall call Vicenza, and question her. "

She stepped forward to the parapet that overlooked the patio. 

"Vicenza!--Vicenza!"

"_Aqui, Senorita_, " answered a voice from the interior of the house. 

"_Ven aca_!--_Ven aca_!" (Come hither. )

"_Si, Senorita_. "

"_Anda! Anda_!" (Quickly. )

A girl, in short bright-coloured nagua, and white chemisette withoutsleeves, came out into the patio, and climbed up the escalera that ledto the roof. 

She was a _mestiza_, or half-blood, of Indian and Spanish mixture, asher brownish-white skin testified. She was not ill-looking; but therewas an expression upon her countenance that precluded the idea of eithervirtue, honesty, or amiability. It was a mixed expression of malice andcunning. Her manner, too, was bold and offensive, like that of one whohad been guilty of some known crime, and had become reckless. It wasonly of late she had assumed that tone, and her mistress had observed itamong other changes. 

"_Que quiere V. , Senorita_?" (What want you, my lady?)

"Vicenza, I have lost a small piece of paper. It was folded in anoblong shape--not like a letter, but this--"

Here a piece of paper, similarly put up, was held out for the inspectionof the girl. 

"Have you seen anything of it?"

"No, Senorita, " was the prompt and ready answer. 

"Perhaps you may have swept it out, or thrown it into the fire? Itlooked insignificant, and, indeed, was not of much importance, but therewere some patterns upon it I wished to copy. Do you think it has beendestroyed?"

"I know not that, Senorita. I know that _I_ did not destroy it. Ineither swept it out nor threw it into the fire. I should not do thatwith any paper, as I cannot read myself, and might destroy somethingthat was valuable. "

Whatever truth there was in the last part of her harangue, the mestizaknew that its earlier declarations were true enough. She had notdestroyed it, either by sweeping out or burning. 

Her answer was delivered with an ingenuous _naivete_, accompanied with aslight accent of anger, as though she was not over-pleased at beingsuspected of negligence. 

Whether her mistress noticed the latter did not appear from her answer, but she expressed herself satisfied. 

"It is of no consequence, then, " said she. "You may go, Vicenza. "

The girl walked off, looking sulky. When her head was just disappearingbelow the top of the escalera, her face was towards her mistress, whoseback was now turned to her. A scornful pouting of the lips, accompaniedby a demoniac smile, was visible upon it. It was evident from that lookthat she knew something more of the lost paper than was admitted in herlate declaration. 

Catalina's gaze was once more turned upon the setting sun. In a fewminutes he would disappear behind the snowy ridge of the mountain. Thena few hours, and then--moments of bliss!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roblado was seated in his cuartel as before. As before, a tiny knocksounded upon the door. As before, he called out, "Quien es?" and wasanswered, "Yo!" and, as before, he recognised the voice and gave theorder for its owner to enter. As before, it was the soldier Jose, who, in a cringing voice and with a cringing salute, approached his officer. 

"Well, Jose, what news?"

"Only this, " replied the soldier, holding out a slip of paper foldedinto an oblong shape. 

"What is it?" demanded Roblado. "Who is it from?" in the same breath. 

"The captain will understand it better than I can, as I can't read; butit comes from the Senorita, and looks inside like a letter. TheSenorita got it from somebody at church yesterday morning: so thinksVicenza, for she saw her read it as soon as she got back from morningprayers. Vicenza thinks that the girl Josefa brought it up the valley, but the captain most likely can tell for himself. "

Roblado had not listened to half of this talk; but had instead beenswallowing the contents of the paper. As soon as he had got to the endof it he sprang from his chair as if a needle had been stuck into him, and paced the room in great agitation. 

"Quick! quick, Jose!" he exclaimed. "Send Gomez here. Say nothing toany one. Hold yourself in readiness--I shall want you too. Send Gomezinstantly. _Vaya_!"

The soldier made a salute less cringing because more hurried, andprecipitately retired from the apartment. Roblado continued--

"By Heaven! this is a piece of luck! Who ever failed to catch a foolwhen love was his lure? This very night, too, and at midnight! I shallhave time to prepare. Oh! if I but knew the place! 'Tis not givenhere. "

Again he read over the note. 

"Carajo, no! that is unfortunate. What's to be done? I must not goguessing in the dark! Ha! I have it! _She_ shall be watched!--watchedto the very spot! Vicenza can do that while we lie somewhere in ambush. The girl can bring us to it. We shall have time to surround them. Their interview will last long enough for that. We shall take them inthe very moment of their bliss. Hell and furies! to think of it--thislow dog--this butcher of buffaloes--to thwart me in my purposes! Butpatience, Roblado! patience! to-night--to-night!--"

A knocking at the door. Sergeant Gomez was admitted. 

"Gomez, get ready twenty of your men! picked fellows, do you hear? Beready by eleven o'clock. You have ample time, but see that you be readythe moment I call you. Not a word to any one without. Let the mensaddle up and be quiet about it. Load your carbines. There's work foryou. You shall know what it is by and by. Go! get ready!"

Without saying a word, the sergeant went off to obey the order. 

"Curses on the luck! if I but knew the place, or anything near it. Would it be about the house? or in the garden? Maybe outside--in thecountry somewhere? That is not unlikely. He would hardly venture sonear the town, lest some one might recognise him or his horse. Death tothat horse. No, no! I shall have that horse yet, or I much mistake. Oh! if I could find this place before the hour of meeting, then my gamewere sure. But no, nothing said of the place--yes, the _old_ place. Hell and furies! they have met before--often--often--oh!"

A groan of agony broke from the speaker, and he paced to and fro likeone bereft of his senses. 

"Shall I tell Vizcarra now, " he continued, "or wait till it is over? Ishall wait. It will be a dainty bit of news along with supper. PerhapsI may garnish the table with the ears of the cibolero. Ha! ha! ha!"

And uttering a diabolical laugh, the ruffian took down his sabre andbuckled the belt around his waist. He then armed himself with a pair ofheavy pistols; and, after looking to the straps of his spurs, strode outof the room. 

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR. 

It wanted but an hour of midnight. There was a moon in the sky, but sonear the horizon, that the bluff bounding the southern side of thevalley threw out a shadow to the distance of many yards upon the plain. 

Parallel to the line of the cliffs, and close in to their base, ahorseman could be seen advancing up the valley from the lower end of thesettlement. His cautious pace, and the anxious glances which he atintervals cast before him, showed that he was travelling with someapprehension, and was desirous of remaining unseen. It was evident, too, that this was his object in keeping within the shadow of the cliff;for on arriving at certain points where the precipice became slantingand cast no shadow, he would halt for a while, and, after carefullyreconnoitring the ground, pass rapidly over it. Concealment could behis only object in thus closely hugging the bluffs, for a much betterroad could have been found at a little distance out from them. 

After travelling for many miles in this way, the horseman at lengtharrived opposite the town, which still, however, was three miles distantfrom the cliff. From this point a road led off to the town, communicating between it and a pass up the bluffs to the left. 

The horseman halted, and gazed awhile along the road, as if undecidedwhether to take it or not. Having resolved in the negative, he movedon, and rode nearly a mile farther under the shadow of the bluffs. Again he halted, and scanned the country to his right. A bridle-pathseemed to run in the direction of the town, or towards a point somewhatabove it. After a short examination the horseman seemed to recognisethis path as one he was in search of, and, heading his horse into it, heparted from the shadow of the bluffs, and rode out under the fullmoonlight. This, shining down upon him, showed a young man of fineproportions, dressed in ranchero costume, and mounted upon a noblesteed, whose sleek black coat glittered under the silvery light. It waseasy to know the rider. His bright complexion, and light-coloured haircurling thickly under the brim of his sombrero, were characteristics notto be mistaken in that land of dark faces. He was Carlos the cibolero. It could be seen now that a large wolf-like dog trotted near the heelsof the horse. That dog was Cibolo. 

Advancing in the direction of the town, the caution of the horsemanseemed to increase. 

The country before him was not quite open. It was level; butfortunately for him, its surface was studded with copse-like islands oftimber, and here and there straggling patches of chapparal through, which the path led. Before entering these the dog preceded him, butwithout noise or bark; and when emerging into the open plain again, thehorseman each time halted and scanned the ground that separated him fromthe next copse, before attempting to pass over it. 

Proceeding in this way, he arrived at length within several hundredyards of the outskirts of the town, and could see the walls, with thechurch cupola shining over the tops of the trees. One line of wall onwhich his eyes were fixed lay nearer than the rest. He recognised itsoutline. It was the parapet over the house of Don Ambrosio--in the rearof which he had now arrived. 

He halted in a small copse of timber, the last upon the plain. Beyond, in the direction of Don Ambrose's house, the ground was open and levelup to the bank of the stream already described as running along thebottom of the garden. The tract was a meadow belonging to Don Ambrosio, and used for pasturing the horses of his establishment. It wasaccessible to these by means of a rude bridge that crossed the streamoutside the walls of the garden. Another bridge, however, joined thegarden itself to the meadow. This was much slighter and of neaterconstruction--intended only for foot-passengers. It was, in fact, amere private bridge, by which the fair daughter of Don Ambrosio couldcross to enjoy her walk in the pleasant meadow beyond. Upon this littlebridge, at its middle part, was a gate with lock and key, to keepintruders from entering the precincts of the garden. 

This bridge was not over three hundred yards from the copse in whichCarlos had halted, and nothing intervened but the darkness to preventhim from having a view of it. However, as the moon was still up, hecould distinctly see the tall posterns, and light-coloured palings ofthe gate, glimmering in her light. The stream he could not see--as atthis point it ran between high banks--and the garden itself was hiddenfrom view by the grove of cotton-woods and china-trees growing along itsbottom. 

After arriving in the copse Carlos dismounted; and having led his horseinto the darkest shadow of the trees, there left him. He did not tiehim to anything, but merely rested the bridle over the pommel of thesaddle, so that it might not draggle upon the ground. He had long agotrained the noble animal to remain where he was placed without otherfastening than this. 

This arrangement completed, he walked forward to the edge of theunderwood, and there stood with his eyes fixed upon the bridge and thedark grove beyond it. It was not the first time for him to go throughall the manoeuvres here described--no, not by many--but, perhaps, on noother occasion were his emotions so strong and strange as on thepresent. 

He had prepared himself for the interview he was now expecting--he hadpromised himself a frankness of speech his modesty had never beforepermitted him to indulge in--he had resolved on proposals--the rejectionor acceptance of which might determine his future fate. His heart beatwithin his breast so as to be audible to his own ears. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Perfect stillness reigned through the town. The inhabitants had allretired to their beds, and not a light appeared from door or window. All were close shut and fast bolted. No one appeared in the streets, except the half-dozen "serenos" who formed the night-watch of the place. These could be seen muffled up in their dark cloaks, sitting halfasleep on the banquetas of houses, and grasping in one hand their hugehalberds, while their lanterns rested upon the pavement at their feet. 

Perfect stillness reigned around the mansion of Don Ambrosio. Thegreat gate of the zaguan was closed and barred, and the portero hadretired within his "lodge, " thus signifying that all the inmates of thedwelling had returned home. If silence denoted sleep, all were asleep;but a ray of light escaping through the silken curtains of a glass door, and falling dimly upon the pavement of the patio, showed that one atleast still kept vigil. That light proceeded from the chamber ofCatalina. 

All at once the stillness of the night was broken by the loud tolling ofa bell. It was the clock of the parroquia announcing the hour ofmidnight. 

The last stroke had not ceased to reverberate when the light in thechamber appeared to be suddenly extinguished--for it no longer glowedthrough the curtain. 

Shortly after, the glass door was silently opened from the inside; and afemale form closely muffled came forth, and glided with stealthy andsinuous step around the shadowy side of the patio. The tall elegantfigure could not be hidden by the disguise of the ample cloak in whichit was muffled, and the graceful gait appeared even when constrained andstealthy. It was the Senorita herself. 

Having passed round the patio, she entered the avenue that led to thegarden. Here a heavy door barred the egress from the house, and beforethis she stopped. Only a moment. A key appeared from under her cloak, and the large bolt with some difficulty yielded to her woman's strength. It did not yield silently. The rusty iron sounded as it sprang backinto the lock, causing her to start and tremble. She even returned backthrough the avenue, to make sure whether any one had heard it; and, standing in the dark entrance, glanced round the patio. Had she notheard a door closing as she came back? She fancied so; and alarmed byit, she stood for some time gazing upon the different doors that openedupon the court. They were all close shut, her own not excepted, for shehad closed it on coming out. Still her fancy troubled her, and, buthalf satisfied, she returned to the gate. 

This she opened with caution, and, passing through, traversed the restof the avenue, and came out in the open ground. Keeping under theshadow of the trees and shrubbery, she soon reached the grove at thebottom of the garden. Here she paused for a moment, and, lookingthrough the stems of the trees, scanned the open surface in thedirection of the copse where Carlos had halted. 

No object was visible but the outlines of the timber island itself, under whose shadow a human form in dark clothing could not have beenrecognised at such a distance. 

After pausing a moment she glided among the trees of the grove, and thenext moment stood, upon the centre and highest point of the bridge infront of the little gate. Here she again stopped, drew from under hercloak a white cambric handkerchief, and, raising herself to her fullheight, held it spread out between her hands. 

The air was filled with fire-flies, whose light sparkled thickly againstthe dark background of the copsewood; but these did not prevent her fromdistinguishing a brighter flash, like the snapping of a lucifer-match, that appeared among them. Her signal was answered!

She lowered the handkerchief, and, taking out a small key, applied it tothe lock of the gate. This was undone in a second, and, having thrownopen the wicket, she retired within the shadow of the grove, and stoodwaiting. 

Even in that dark shadow her eyes sparkled with the light of love, asshe saw a form--the form of a man on foot, parting from the copse, andcoming in the direction of the bridge. It was to her the dearest onearth; and she awaited the approach with a flushed cheek and a heartfull of joyful emotion. 

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE. 

It was no fancy of Catalina's that she heard the shutting of a door asshe returned up the avenue. A door in reality had been closed at thatmoment, --the door that led to the sleeping apartments of themaidservants. Had her steps been quicker, she might have seen some onerush across the patio and enter this door. But she arrived too late forthis. The door was closed, and all was silent again. It might havebeen fancy, thought she. 

It was no fancy. From the hour when the family had retired to rest, thedoor of Catalina's chamber had been watched. An eye had been bent allthe time upon that ray of light escaping through the curtained glass, --the eye of the girl Vicenza. 

During the early part of the evening the maid had asked leave to go outfor a while. It had been granted. She had been gone for nearly anhour. Conducted by the soldier Jose, she had had an interview withRoblado. At that interview all had been arranged between them. 

She was to watch her mistress from the house, and follow her to theplace of assignation. When that should be determined she was to returnwith all haste to Roblado--who appointed a place of meeting her--andthen guide him and his troop to the lovers. This, thought Roblado, would be the surest plan to proceed upon. He had taken his measuresaccordingly. 

The door of the maid's sleeping-room was just opposite that ofCatalina's chamber. Through the key-hole the girl had seen the light goout, and the Senorita gliding around the patio. She had watched herinto the avenue, and then gently opening her own door and stolen afterher. 

At the moment the Senorita had succeeded in unlocking the great gate ofthe garden, the mestiza was peeping around the wall at the entrance ofthe avenue; but on hearing the other return, --for it was by the sound ofher footsteps she was warned, --the wily spy had darted back into herroom, and closed the door behind her. 

It was some time before she dared venture out again, as the key-hole nolonger did her any service. She kept her eye to it, however, and, seeing that her mistress did not return to her chamber, she concludedthat the latter had continued on into the garden. Again gently openingher door, she stole forth, and, on tiptoe approaching the avenue, peepedinto it. It was no longer dark. The gate was open, and the moonshining in lit up the whole passage. It was evident, therefore, thatthe Senorita had gone through, and was now in the garden. 

Was she in the garden? The mestiza remembered the bridge, and knew thather mistress carried the key of the wicket, and often used it both byday and night. She might by this have crossed the bridge, and got farbeyond into the open country. She--the spy--might not find thedirection she had taken, and thus spoil the whole plan. 

With these thoughts passing through her mind, the girl hurried throughthe avenue, and, crouching down, hastened along the walk as fast as shewas able. 

Seeing no one among the fruit-trees and flowerbeds, she began todespair; but the thick grove at the bottom of the garden gave herpromise--that was a likely place of meeting--capital for such a purpose, as the mestiza, experienced in such matters, well knew. 

To approach the grove, however, presented a difficulty. There was aspace of open ground--a green parterre--between it and the flowerbeds. Any one, already in the grove, could perceive the approach of another inthat direction, and especially under a bright moonlight. This themestiza saw, and it compelled her to pause and reflect how she was toget nearer. 

But one chance seemed to offer. The high adobe wall threw a shadow ofsome feet along one side of the open ground. In this shadow it might bepossible to reach the timber unobserved. The girl resolved to attemptit. 

Guided by the instinctive cunning of her race, she dropped down flatupon her breast; and, dragging herself over the grass, she reached theselvedge of the grove, just in the rear of the arbour. There shepaused, raised her head, and glanced through the leafy screen thatencircled the arbour. She saw what she desired. 

Catalina was at this moment upon the bridge, and above the position ofthe mestiza--so that the latter could perceive her form outlined againstthe blue of the sky. She saw her hold aloft the white kerchief. Sheguessed that it was a signal--she saw the flash in answer to it, andthen observed her mistress undo the lock and fling the wicket open. 

The cunning spy was now sure that the place of meeting was to be thegrove itself, and might have returned with that information; but Robladohad distinctly ordered her not to leave until she saw the meetingitself, and was certain of the spot. She therefore remained where shewas, and awaited the further proceedings of the lovers. 

Carlos, on perceiving the signal, had answered it by flashing somepowder already prepared. He lost no time in obeying the well-knownsummons. A single moment by the side of his horse--a whisper which thelatter well understood--and he parted from the copse, Cibolo followingat his heels. 

On reaching the end of the bridge he bent down, and, addressing somewords in a low voice to the dog, proceeded to cross over. The animaldid not follow him, but lay down on the opposite bank of the stream. 

The next moment the lovers were together. 

From the spot where she lay the mestiza witnessed their greeting. Themoon shone upon their faces--the fair skin and curly locks of Carloswere distinctly visible under the light. The girl knew the cibolero--itwas he. 

She had seen all that was necessary for Roblado to know. The grove wasthe place of meeting. It only remained for her to get back to theofficer, and give the information. 

She was about to crawl away, and had already half risen, when to herdismay, the lovers appeared coming through the grove, and towards thevery arbour behind which she lay!

Their faces were turned towards the spot where she was crouching. Ifshe rose to her feet, or attempted to go off, she could not fail to beseen by one or other of them. 

She had no alternative but to remain where she was--at least until somebetter opportunity offered of getting away--and with this intention sheagain squatted down close under the shadow of the arbour. 

A moment after the lovers entered, and seated themselves upon thebenches with which the little bower was provided. 

CHAPTER FORTY SIX. 

The hearts of both were so agitated that for some moments neither gaveutterance to their thoughts. Catalina was the first to speak. 

"Your sister?" she inquired. 

"She is better. I have had the rancho restored. They have returned toit, and the old scenes seem to have worked a miracle upon her. Hersenses came at once, and relapse only at long intervals. I have hopesit will be all well again. "

"I am glad to hear this. Poor child! she must have suffered sadly inthe hands of these rude savages. "

"Rude savages! Ay, Catalina, you have styled them appropriately, thoughyou little know of whom you are speaking. "

"Of whom?" echoed the lady, in surprise. Up to this moment even she hadno other than the popular and universal belief that Carlos' sister hadbeen a captive in the hands of the Indians!

"It was partly for this that I have sought an interview to-night. Icould not exist without explaining to you my late conduct, which musthave appeared to you a mystery. It shall be so no longer. Hear me, Catalina!"

Carlos revealed the horrid plot, detailing every circumstance, to theutter astonishment of his fair companion. 

"Oh! fiends! fiends!" she exclaimed; "who could have imagined suchatrocity? Who would suppose that on the earth were wretches like these?But that _you_, dear Carlos, have told me, I could not have believed insuch villainy! I knew that both were bad; I have heard many a tale ofthe vileness of these two men; but this is wickedness beyond the powerof fancy! _Santisima Madre_! what men! what monsters! It isincredible!"

"You know now with what justice I am called a murderer?"

"Oh, dear Carlos! think not of that. I never gave it a thought. I knewyou had some cause just and good. Fear not! The world shall yet knowall--"

"The world!" interrupted Carlos, with a sneer. "For me there is noworld. I have no home. Even among those with whom I have been broughtup, I have been but a stranger--a heretic outcast. Now I am worse--ahunted outlaw with a price upon my head, and a good large one too. Intruth, I never thought I was worth so much before!" Here a laughescaped from the speaker; but his merriment was of short duration. Hecontinued--

"No world have I but you, Catalina, --and you no longer except in myheart. I must leave you and go far away. Death--worse than death--awaits me here. I must go hence. I must return to the people from whommy parents are sprung--to our long forgotten kindred. Perhaps there Imay find a new home and new friends, but happiness I cannot withoutyou--No, never!"

Catalina was silent, with tearful eyes bent upon the ground. Shetrembled at the thought that was passing in her mind. She feared togive it expression. But it was no time for the affectation of falsemodesty, for idle bashfulness; and neither were her characteristics. Upon a single word depended the happiness of her life--of her lover's. Away with womanly coyness! let the thought be spoken!

She turned toward her lover, took his hand in hers, leant forward tillher lips were close to his, and, looking in his face, said in a soft, but firm voice--

"Carlos! is it your wish that _I_ go with you?"

In a moment his arms were around her, and their lips had met. 

"O Heavens!" he exclaimed; "is this possible? do I hear aright? DearestCatalina! It was this I would have proposed, but I dared not do it. Ifeared to make the proposal, so wild does it seem. What! forsake allfor me? Oh, _querida! querida_! Tell me that this is what your wordsmean! Say you will go with me!"

"_I will_!" was the short but firm reply. 

"O God! I am too happy--a week of terrible suffering, and I am againhappy. But a week ago, Catalina, and I was happy. I had met with astrange adventure, one that promised fortune. I was full of hope--hopeof winning you; not you, _querida_, but your father. Of winning him bygold. See!" Here the speaker held forth his hand filled with shiningore. "It is gold. Of this I have discovered a mine, and I had hopedwith it to have rivalled your father in his wealth, and then to have wonhis consent. Alas! alas! that is now hopeless, but your words havegiven me new happiness. Think not of the fortune you leave behind. Iknow you do not, dear Catalina. I shall give you one equal to it--perhaps far greater. I know where this precious trash is to beprocured, but I shall tell you all when we have time. To-night--"

He was interrupted by Catalina. Her quick ear had caught a sound thatappeared odd to her. It was but a slight rustling among the leaves nearthe back of the arbour, and might have been caused by the wind, hadthere been any. But not a breath was stirring. Something else hadcaused it. What could it be?

After a moment or two both stepped out, and examined the bushes whencethe sound was supposed to have proceeded; but nothing was to be seen. They looked around and up towards the garden--there was no appearance ofanything that could have caused the noise! It was now much darker thanwhen they had entered the arbour. The moon had gone down, and thesilvery light had turned to grey; but it was still clear enough to havedistinguished any large object at several yards distance. Catalinacould not be mistaken. She had heard a rustling sound to a certainty. Could it have been the dog? Carlos stepped forward on the bridge. Itwas not--the animal still lay where he had been placed: it could nothave been he! What then? Some lizard? perhaps a dangerous serpent?

At all events they would not again enter the arbour but remainedstanding outside. Still Catalina was not without apprehensions, for shenow remembered the loss of the note, and, later still, the shutting ofthe door, both of which she hastily communicated to her companion. 

Hitherto Carlos had paid but little attention to what he believed to besome natural occurrence--the fluttering of a bird which had beendisturbed by them, or the gliding of a snake or lizard. But theinformation now given made a different impression upon him. Used toIndian wiles, he was a ready reasoner, and he perceived at once thatthere might be something sinister in the sound which had been heard. Heresolved, therefore, to examine the ground more carefully. 

Once more he proceeded to the back of the arbour, and, dropping to hisknees, scanned the grass and bushes. In a moment he raised his headwith an exclamation of surprise. 

"As I live, Catalina, you were right! Some one has been here, beyond adoubt! Some one has lain on this very spot! Where can they have goneto? By Heaven, it was a woman! Here is the trail of her dress!"

"Vicenza!" exclaimed the lady. "It can be no other--my maid, Vicenza!_Dios de mi alma_! she has heard every word!"

"No doubt it was Vicenza. She has watched and followed you from thehouse. What could have tempted her to such an act?"

"_Ay de mi_! Heaven only knows: her conduct has been very strange oflate. It is quite annoying! Dear Carlos!" she continued, changing hertone of regret to one of anxiety, "you must stay no longer. Who knowswhat she may do? Perhaps summon my father! Perhaps still worse--Santisima Virgen! may it not be!"

Here Catalina hastily communicated the fact of Vicenza's intimacy withthe soldier Jose, as well as other circumstances relating to the girl, and urged upon her lover the necessity of instant departure. 

"I shall go then, " said he. "Not that I much fear them; it is too darkfor their carbines, and their sabres will never reach me, while my bravesteed stands yonder ready to obey my call. But it is better for me togo. There may be something in it. I cannot explain curiosity thatattempts so much as this girl. I shall go at once then. "

And so Carlos had resolved. But much remained to be said: fresh vows oflove to be pronounced; an hour to be fixed for a future meeting--perhapsthe last before taking the final step--their flight across the greatplains. 

More than once had Carlos placed his foot upon the bridge, and more thanonce had he returned to have another sweet word--another parting kiss. 

The final "adios" had at length been exchanged; the lovers had partedfrom each other; Catalina had turned towards the house; and Carlos wasadvancing to the bridge with the intention of crossing, when a growlfrom Cibolo caused him to halt and listen. 

Again the dog growled, this time more fiercely, following with a seriesof earnest barks, that told his master some danger was nigh. 

The first thought of the latter was to rush across the bridge, and maketowards his steed. Had he done so, he would have had time enough toescape; but the desire to warn her, so that she might hasten to thehouse, impelled him to turn back through the grove. She had alreadyreached the open parterre, and was crossing it, when the barking of thedog caused her to stop, and the moment after Carlos came up. But he hadnot addressed a word to her before the trampling of horses soundedoutside the adobe walls of the garden--horsemen galloped down on bothsides, while the confused striking of hoofs showed that some werehalting outside, while others deployed around the enclosure. Therattling of the timbers of the large bridge was heard almost at the sameinstant; then the dog breaking into a fierce attack; and then, throughthe stems of the trees, the dark forms of horsemen became visible uponthe opposite bank of the stream. The garden was surrounded!

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN. 

Long after the lovers had entered the arbour the mestiza had remained inher squatting attitude, listening to the conversation, of which not aword escaped her. It was not, however, her interest in that which boundher to the spot, but her fear of being discovered should she attempt toleave it. She had reason while it was still moonlight, for the openground she must pass over was distinctly visible from the arbour. Itwas only after the moon went down that she saw the prospect of retiringunseen; and, choosing a moment when the lovers had their faces turnedfrom her, she crawled a few yards back, rose to her feet, and ran nimblyoff in the darkness. 

Strange to say, the rustling heard by the senorita was not made by thegirl at the moment of her leaving the arbour. It was caused by a twigwhich she had bent behind a branch, the better to conceal herself, andthis releasing itself had sprung back to its place. That was why noobject was visible to the lovers, although coming hastily out of thearbour. The spy at that instant was beyond the reach of sight as wellas hearing. She had got through the avenue before the twig moved. 

She did not stop for a moment. She did not return to her apartment, butcrossing the patio hastily entered the zaguan. This she traversed withstealthy steps, as if afraid to awake the portero. 

On reaching the gate she drew from her pocket a key. It was not the keyof the main lock, but of the lesser one, belonging to the postern doorwhich opened through the great gate. 

This key she had secured at an earlier hour of the evening, for the veryuse she was now about to make of it. 

She placed it in the lock, and then shot the bolt, using all the careshe could to prevent it from making a noise. She raised the latch withlike caution; and then, opening the door, stepped gently to the outside. She next closed the door after her, slowly and silently; and this done, she ran with all her speed along the road towards some woods that wereoutside the town, and not far from the house of Don Ambrosio. 

It was in these woods that Roblado held his men in ambush. He hadbrought them thither at a late hour, and by a circuitous route, so thatno one should see them as they entered the timber, and thus prevent thepossibility of a frustration of his plans. Here he was waiting thearrival of his spy. 

The girl soon reached the spot, and in a few minutes detailed to theofficer the whole of what she had witnessed. What she had heard therewas no time to tell, for she communicated to Roblado how she had beendetained, and the latter saw there was not a moment to be lost. Theinterview might end before he should be ready, and his prey might stillescape him. 

Had Roblado felt more confidence as to time he would now have acteddifferently. He would have sent some men by a lower crossing, and letthem approach the bottom of the garden directly from the meadow; hewould, moreover, have spent more time and caution about the "surround. "

But he saw he might be too late, should he adopt this surer course. Aquicker one recommended itself, and he at once gave the orders to hisfollowers. These were divided into two parties of different sizes. Each was to take a side of the garden, and deploy along the wall, butthe larger party was to drop only a few of its men, while the rest wereto ride hastily over the greater bridge, and gallop round to the bottomof the garden. Roblado himself was to lead this party, whose duty wouldlikely be of most importance. As the leader well knew, the garden wallscould not be scaled without a ladder, and the cibolero, if found withinthe garden, would attempt to escape by the bridge at the bottom. Lesthe might endeavour to get through the avenue and off by the front of thehouse, the girl Vicenza was to conduct Gomez with several men on footthrough the patio, and guide them to the avenue entrance. 

The plan was well enough conceived. Roblado knew the ground well. Hehad often strolled through that garden, and its walls and approacheswere perfectly familiar to him. Should he be enabled to surround itbefore the cibolero could got notice of their approach, he was sure ofhis victim. The latter must either be killed or captured. 

In five minutes after the arrival of the spy he had communicated thewhole of their duties to the men; and in five minutes more they hadridden out of the woods, crossed the small tract that separated themfrom the house, and were in the act of surrounding the garden! It wasat this moment that the dog Cibolo first uttered his growl of alarm. 

"Fly--fly!" cried Catalina as she saw her lover approach. "Oh! do notthink of me! They dare not take my life. I have committed no offence. Oh, Carlos, leave me! fly! _Madre de Dios_! they come this way!"

As she spoke a number of dark forms were seen entering from the avenue, and coming down the garden. Their scabbards clanked among the bushes asthey rushed through them. They were soldiers on foot! Several remainedby the entrance, while the rest ran forward. 

Carlos had for a moment contemplated escape in that direction. Itoccurred to him, if he could get up to the house and on the azotea, hemight drop off on either side, and, favoured by the darkness, return tothe meadow at some distant point. This idea vanished the moment he sawthat the entrance was occupied. He glanced to the walls. They were toohigh to be scaled. He would be attacked while attempting it. No otherchance offered but to cut his way through by the bridge, he now saw theerror he had committed in returning. She was in no danger--at least inno peril of her life. Indeed her greater danger would arise from hisremaining near her. He should have crossed the bridge at first. He wasnow separated from his horse. He might summon the latter by his call--he knew that--but it would only bring the noble animal within reach ofhis foes--perhaps to be captured. That would be as much as taking hisown life. No: he could not summon his steed from where he was, and hedid not utter the signal. What was he to do? To remain by the side ofCatalina, to be surrounded and captured, perhaps cut down like a dog?To imperil her life as well?--No. He must make a desperate struggle toget out of the enclosure, to reach the open country if possible, andthen--

His thoughts went no farther. He cried out--

"Querida, farewell! I must leave you--do not despair. If I die, Ishall carry your love to heaven! Farewell, farewell!"

These words were uttered in the parting haste of the moment, and he hadsprung away so suddenly that he did not hear the answering farewell. 

The moment he was gone the lady dropped to her knees, and with handsclasped, and eyes raised to heaven, offered her prayer for his safety. 

Half-a-dozen springs brought Carlos once more under the shadow of thegrove. He saw his foes on the opposite bank, and from their voices hecould tell there were many of them. They were talking loudly andshouting directions to one another. He could distinguish the voice ofRoblado above the rest. He was calling upon some of the men to dismountand follow him over the bridge. He was himself on foot, for the purposeof crossing. 

Carlos saw no other prospect of escape than by making a quick rushacross the bridge, and cutting his way through the crowd. By that meanshe might reach the open plain, and fight his way until his horse couldcome up. Once in the saddle he would have laughed at their attempts totake him. It was a desperate resolve, --a perilous running of thegauntlet, --almost certain death; but still more certain death was thealternative if he remained where he was. 

There was no time for hesitation. Already several men had dismounted, and were making towards the bridge. He must cross before they hadreached it; one was already upon it. He must be beaten back. 

Carlos, cocking his pistol, rushed forward to the gate. The man hadreached it from the other side. They met face to face, with the gatestill shut between them. Carlos saw that his antagonist was Robladohimself!

Not a word was spoken between them. Roblado also had his pistol inreadiness and fired first, but missed his aim. He perceived this, and, dreading the fire from his adversary, he staggered back to the bank, shouting to his followers to discharge their carbines. 

Before they could obey the order, the crack of the cibolero's pistolrang upon the air, and Roblado, with a loud oath, rolled down by theedge of the water. Carlos dashed open the gate, and was about to rushonward, when he perceived through the smoke and darkness severalcarbines brought to the level, and aimed at him. A sudden thought cameinto his mind, and he changed his design of crossing the bridge. Thetime was but the pulling of a trigger, but, short as it was, he effectedhis purpose. The carbines blazed and cracked, all nearly at the sameinstant, and when the smoke cleared away Carlos was no longer on thebridge! Had he gone back into the garden? No--already half-a-dozen menhad cut off his retreat in that direction!

"He is killed!" cried several voices, "Carajo!--he has fallen into theriver! _Mira_!"

All eyes were turned upon the stream. Certainly a body had plunged intoit, as the bubbles and circling waves testified, but only these were tobe seen! "He has sunk! he's gone to the bottom!" cried some. 

"Be sure he hasn't swum away!" counselled a voice; and several ran alongthe banks with their eyes searching the surface. 

"Impossible! there are no waves. "

"He could not have passed here, " said one who stood a little below thebridge. "I have been watching the water. "

"So have I, " cried another from above. "He has not passed my position. "

"Then he is dead and gone down!"

"Carajo! let us fish him out!" And they were proceeding to put thisidea into execution, when Roblado, who had now got to his feet, findingthat a wounded arm was all he had suffered, ordered them to desist. 

"Up and down!" he thundered; "scatter both ways--quick, or he may yetescape us. Go!"

The men did as they were ordered, but the party who turned down-streamhalted through sheer surprise. The figure of a man was seen, in a bentattitude and crawling up the bank, at the distance of a hundred yardsbelow. The next moment it rose into an erect position, and glided overthe plain with lightning speed, in the direction of the copse of timber!

"_Hola_!" exclaimed several voices; "yonder he goes! _Por todossantos_, it is he!"

Amidst the cracking of carbines that followed, a shrill whistle washeard; and before any of the mounted men could ride forward, a horse wasseen shooting out from the copse and meeting the man upon the openmeadow! Quick as thought the latter vaulted into the saddle, and afteruttering a wild and scornful laugh galloped off, and soon disappeared inthe darkness!

Most of the dragoons sprang upon their horses and followed; but after ashort gallop over the plain they gave up the chase, and one by onereturned to their wounded leader. 

To say that Roblado was furious would be to characterise very faintlythe state he was in. But he had still one captive on which to vent hisrage and chagrin. 

Catalina had been captured in the garden, --taken while praying for thesafe escape of her lover. Jose had remained in charge of her, while therest rushed down to assist in the capture of Carlos, at which Jose, knowing the cibolero as he did, and not being over brave, evinced nodesire to be present. 

Catalina heard the shots and shouts that denoted the terrible struggle. She had heard, too, the shrill whistle and the scornful laugh that rangloudly above the din. She had heard the shouts of the pursuers dyingaway in the distance. 

Her heart beat with joy. She knew that her lover was free!

She thought then, and then only, of herself. She thought, too, ofescape. She knew the rude taunts she would have to listen to from thebrutal leader of these miscreants. What could she do to avoid anencounter? She had but one to deal with--Jose. She knew the despicablecharacter of the man. Would gold tempt him? She would make the trial. 

It was made, and succeeded. The large sum offered was irresistible. The villain knew that there could be no great punishment for letting goa captive who could at any time be taken again. He would risk thechances of his captain's displeasure for such a sum. His captain mighthave reasons for not dealing too severely with him. The purse was paid, and the lady was allowed to go. 

She was to close the door, locking it from the inside, as though she hadescaped by flight; and this direction of Jose was followed to theletter. 

As Roblado crossed the bridge he was met by the soldier, who, breathlessand stammering, announced that the fair prisoner had got into the house. She had slipped from his side and ran off. Had it been an ordinarycaptive, he could have fired upon her, but he was unable to overtake heruntil she had passed the door, which was closed and locked before hecould get near. 

For a moment Roblado hesitated whether to "storm the house. " His ragealmost induced him to the act. He reflected, however, that theproceeding might appear somewhat ridiculous and could not much betterhis position; besides, the pain of his wounded arm admonished him toretire from the field. 

He re-crossed the bridge, was helped upon his horse, and, summoningaround him his valiant troop, he rode back to the Presidio--leaving theroused town to conjecture the cause of the alarm. 

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT. 

Next morning the town was full of "novedades. " At first it was supposedthere had been an attack of Indians repelled as usual by the troops. What valiant protectors the people had!

After a while it was rumoured that Carlos the murderer had beencaptured, and that was the cause of the firing, --that Captain Robladowas killed in the affair. Presently Carlos was not taken, but he hadbeen chased and came very near being taken! Roblado had engaged himsingly, hand to hand, and had wounded him, but in the darkness he hadgot off by diving down the river. In the encounter the outlaw had shotthe captain through the arm, which prevented the latter from making hima prisoner. 

This rumour came direct from the Presidio. It was partly true. Thewounding of Carlos by Roblado was an addition to the truth, intended togive a little _eclat_ to the latter, for it became known afterwards thatthe cibolero had escaped without even a scratch. 

People wondered why the outlaw should have ventured to approach thetown, knowing as he did that there was a price upon his head. Some verypowerful motive must have drawn him thither. The motive soon becameknown, --the whole story leaked out; and then, indeed, did scandal enjoya feast. Catalina had been for some time the acknowledged belle of theplace, and, what with envious women and jealous men, she was now treatedwith slight show of charity. The very blackest construction was putupon her "compromisa. " It was worse even than a _mesalliance_. The"society" were horrified at her conduct in stooping to intimacy with a"lepero;" while even the lepero class, itself fanatically religious, condemned her for her association with "un asesino, " but, still worse, a"heretico!"

The excitement produced by this new affair was great indeed, --a perfectpanic. The cibolero's head rose in value, like the funds. Themagistrates and principal men assembled in the Casa de Cabildo. A newproclamation was drawn out. A larger sum was offered for the capture ofCarlos, and the document was rendered still stronger by a declaration ofsevere punishment to all who should give him food or protection. Ifcaptured beneath the roof of any citizen who had voluntarily shelteredhim, the latter was to suffer full confiscation of his property, besidessuch further punishment as might be fixed upon. 

The Church was not silent. The padres promised excommunication and thewrath of Heaven against those who would stay justice from the hereticmurderer!

These were terrible terms for the outlaw! Fortunately for him, he knewhow to live without a roof over his head. He could maintain existencewhere his enemies would have starved, and where they were unable tofollow him, --on the wide desert plain, or in the rocky ravines of themountains. Had he depended for food or shelter on his fellow-citizensof the settlement he would soon have met with betrayal and denouncement. But the cibolero was as independent of such a necessity as the wildsavage of the prairies. He could sleep on the grassy sward or the nakedrock, he could draw sustenance even from the arid surface of the LlanoEstacado, and there he could bid defiance to a whole army of pursuers. 

At the council Don Ambrosio was not present. Grief and rage kept himwithin doors. A stormy scene had been enacted between him and hisdaughter. Henceforth she was to be strictly guarded--to be kept aprisoner in her father's house--to be taught repentance by the exerciseof penance. 

To describe the feelings of Roblado and the Comandante would beimpossible. These gentlemen were well-nigh at their wits' end withmortification. Disappointment, humiliation, physical and moral pain, had worked them into a frenzy of rage; and they were engaged togetherduring all the day in plotting schemes and plans for the capture oftheir outlawed enemy. 

Roblado was not less earnest than the Comandante in the success of theirendeavours. 

Carlos had now given both of them good cause to hate him, and both hatedhim from the bottom of their hearts. 

What vexed Roblado most was, that he was no longer able to take thefield--nor was he likely to be for several weeks. His wound, though notdangerous, would oblige him to sling his arm for some time, and tomanage a horse would be out of the question. The strategic designs ofthe Comandante and himself would have to be carried out by those whofelt far less interest in the capture of the outlaw than they did. Indeed, but for the arrival of a brace of lieutenants, sent fromdivision head-quarters at Santa Fe, the garrison would have been withouta commissioned officer fit for duty. These new-comers--LieutenantsYafiez and Ortiga--were neither of them the men to catch the cibolero. They were brave enough--Ortiga in particular--but both were latearrivals from Spain, and knew nothing whatever of border warfare. 

The soldiers were desirous of hunting the outlaw down, and acted withsufficient zeal. The stimulus of a large reward, which was promised tothem, rendered them eager of effecting his capture; and they went forthon each fresh scout with alacrity. But they were not likely to attackthe cibolero unless a goodly number of them were together. No one ortwo of them--including the celebrated Sergeant Gomez--would venturewithin range of his rifle, much less go near enough to lay hands uponhim. 

The actual experience of his prowess by some of them, and theexaggerated reports of it known to others, had made such an impressionupon the whole troop, that the cibolero could have put a considerablebody of them to flight only by showing himself! But in addition to theskill, strength, and daring which he had in reality exhibited--inaddition to the exaggeration of those qualities by the fancy--thesoldiers as well as people had become possessed with a strange belief--that was, that the cibolero was under the protection of his mother--under the protection of the "diablo"--in other words, that he was_bewitched_, and therefore invincible! Some asserted that he wasimpervious to shot, spear, or sabre. Those who had fired their carbinesat him while on the bridge fully believed this. They were ready toswear--each one of them--that they had hit the cibolero, and must havekilled him had he not been under supernatural protection!

Wonderful stories now circulated among the soldiers and throughout thesettlement. The cibolero was seen everywhere, and always mounted on hiscoal-black horse, who shared his supernatural fame. He had been seenriding along the top of the cliffs at full gallop, and so close to theiredge that he might have blown the stump of his cigar into the valleybelow! Others had met him in the night on lonely walks amid thechapparal, and according to them his face and hands had appeared red andluminous as coals of fire! He had been seen on the high plains by thehateros--on the cliff of "La Nina"--in many parts of the valley; but noone had ventured near enough to exchange words with him. Every one hadfled or shunned him. It was even asserted that he had been seencrossing the little bridge that led out of Don Ambrosio's garden, andthus brought down a fresh shower of scandal on the devoted head ofCatalina. The scandal-mongers, however, were sadly disappointed onhearing that this bridge no longer existed, but had been removed by DonAmbrosio on the day following the discovery of his daughter'smisconduct!

In no part of the world is superstition stronger than among the ignorantpopulace of the settlements of New Mexico. In fact, it may be regardedas forming part of their religion. The missionary padres, in graftingthe religion of Rome upon the sun-worship of Quetzalcoatl, admitted fortheir own purposes a goodly string of superstitions. It would bestrange if their people did not believe in others, however absurd. Witchcraft, therefore, and all like things, were among the New Mexicansas much matters of belief as the Deity himself. 

It is not then to be wondered at that Carlos the cibolero becameassociated with the devil. His feat of horsemanship and hair-breadthescapes from his enemies were, to say the least, something wonderful andromantic, even when viewed in a natural sense. But the populace of SanIldefonso no longer regarded them in this light. With them his skill inthe "coleo de toros, " in "running the cock, "--his feat of horsemanshipon the cliff--his singular escapes from carbine and lance, were nolonger due to himself, but to the devil. The "diablo" was at the bottomof all!

If the outlaw appeared so often during the next few days to those whodid not wish to see him, it was somewhat strange that those who weredesirous of a sight and an interview could get neither one nor theother. The lieutenants, Yafiez and Ortiga, with their following oftroopers, were on the scout and look-out from morning till night, andfrom one day's end to the other. The spies that were thickly-set in allparts where there was a probability he might appear, could see nothingof Carlos! To-day he was reported here, to-morrow there; but on tracingthese reports to their sources, it usually turned out that some rancherowith a black horse had been taken for him; and thus the troopers wereled from place to place, and misled by false reports, until both horsesand men were nearly worn out in the hopeless pursuit. This, however, had become the sole duty on which the soldiers were employed--as theComandante had no idea of giving up the chase so long as there was atrooper left to take the trail. 

One place was closely watched both by day and by night. It was watchedby soldiers disguised, and also by spies employed for the purpose. Thiswas the rancho of the cibolero himself. The disguised soldiers andspies were placed around it, in such positions that they could see everymovement that took place outside the walls without being themselvesseen. These positions they held during the day, taking others at night;and the surveillance was thus continual, by these secret sentriesrelieving one another. Should the cibolero appear, it was not the dutyof the spies to attack him. They were only to communicate with atroop--kept in readiness not far off--that thus insured a sufficientforce for the object. 

The mother and sister of the cibolero had returned to live in therancho. The peons had re-roofed and repaired it--an easy task, as thewalls had not been injured by the five. It was now as comfortable adwelling as ever. 

The mother and sister were not molested--in fact, they were supposed toknow nothing of the fact that eyes were continually upon them. Butthere was a design in this toleration. They were to be narrowly watchedin their movements. They were never to leave the rancho without beingclosely followed, and the circumstance of their going out reported tothe leader of the ambushed troop at the moment of its occurrence. Theseorders were of the strictest kind, and their disobedience threatenedwith severe punishment. 

The reasons for all this were quite simple. Both Vizcarra and Robladobelieved, or suspected, that Carlos might leave the settlementaltogether--why should he not?--and take both mother and sister alongwith him. Indeed, why should he not? The place could be no more a hometo him, and he would easily find another beyond the Great Plains. Notime could ever release him from the ban that hung over him. He couldnever pay the forfeit of his life--but by that life. It was, therefore, perfectly natural in the two officers to suspect him of the intention ofmoving elsewhere. 

But, reasoned they, so long as we hold the mother and sister ashostages, he will not leave them. He will still continue to lurk aroundthe settlement, and, if not now, some time shall the fox be caught anddestroyed. 

So reasoned the Comandante and his captain, and hence the strictness oftheir orders about guarding the rancho. Its inmates were reallyprisoners, though--as Vizcarra and Roblado supposed--they were ignorantof the fact. 

Notwithstanding all their ingenious plans--notwithstanding all theirspies, and scouts, and soldiers--notwithstanding their promises ofreward and threats of punishment--day followed day, and still the outlawremained at large. 

CHAPTER FORTY NINE. 

For a long time Carlos had neither been seen nor heard of except throughreports that on being examined turned out to be false. Both theComandante and his _confrere_ began to grow uneasy. They began to fearhe had in reality left the settlement and gone elsewhere to live, andthis they dreaded above all things. Both had a reason for wishing himthus out of the place, and until late occurrences nothing would havepleased them better. But their feelings had undergone a change, andneither the intended seducer nor the fortune-hunter desired that thingsshould end just in that way. The passion of revenge had almostdestroyed the ruffian love of the one, and the avarice of the other. The very sympathy which both received on account of their misfortuneswhetted this passion to a continued keenness. There was no danger ofits dying within the breast of either. The looking-glass alone wouldkeep it alive in Vizcarra's bosom for the rest of his life. 

They were together on the azotea of the Presidio, talking the matterbetween them, and casting over the probabilities of their latesuspicion. 

"He is fond of the sister, " remarked the Comandante; "and mother too, for that matter, hag as she is! Still, my dear Roblado, a man likes hisown life better than anything else. Near is the shirt, etcetera. Heknows well that to stay here is to get into our hands some time orother, and he knows what we'll do with him if he should. Though he hasmade some clever escapes, I'll admit, that may not always be hisfortune. The pitcher may go to the well once too often. He's a cunningrascal--no doubt knows this riddle--and therefore I begin to fear he hastaken himself off, --at least for a long while. He may return again, buthow the deuce are we to sustain this constant espionage? It would wearydown the devil! It will become as tiresome as the siege of Granada wasto the good king Fernando and his warlike spouse of the soiled chemise. _Por Dios_! I'm sick of it already!"

"Rather than let him escape us, " replied Roblado, "I'd wear out my lifeat it. "

"So I--so I, capitan. Don't fear I have the slightest intention ofdropping our system of vigilance. No--no--look in this face. _Carajo_!"

And as the speaker reflected upon his spoiled features, the bitterestscowl passed over them, making them still more hideous. 

"And yet, " continued Vizcarra, following out the original theme, "itdoes not seem natural that he should leave _them_ behind him, even for ashort period, after what has occurred, and after the risk he ran torecover _her_; does it?"

"No, " replied the other, thoughtfully, "no. What I most wonder at ishis not setting off with them the night she got back, --that verynight, --for by the letter he was there upon the spot! But, true, ittakes some time to prepare for a journey across the prairies. He wouldnever have gone to one of our own settlements--not likely--and to havetravelled elsewhere would have required some preparation for the womenat least; for himself, I believe he is as much at home in the desert aseither the antelope or the prairie wolf. Still with an effort he mighthave gone away at that time and taken them along with him. It was badmanagement on our part not to send our men down that night. "

"I had no fear of his going off, else I should have done so. "

"How?--no fear? was it not highly probable?"

"Not in the least, " replied Roblado. 

"I cannot understand you, my dear capitan. Why not?"

"Because there is a magnet in this valley that held him tighter thaneither mother or sister could, and I knew that. "

"Oh! now I understand you. "

"Yes, " continued Roblado, grinding his teeth against each other, andspeaking in a bitter tone; "that precious `margarita, ' that is yet to bemy wife, --ha! ha! He was not likely to be off without having a talkwith her. They have had it. God knows whether they agreed to make ittheir last, but I, with the help of Don Ambrosio, have arranged that forthem. _Carrai_! she'll make no more midnight sorties, I fancy. No--he's not gone. I cannot think it, --for two reasons. First, on heraccount. Have you ever loved, Comandante? I mean truly loved! Ha! ha!ha!"

"Ha! ha! ha! well I think I was caught once. "

"Then you will know that when a man really loves--for I myself countthat foolish act among my experiences, --when a man really loves, there'sno rope strong enough to pull him away from the spot where the object ofhis love resides. No, I believe this fellow, low as he is, not onlyloves but worships this future wife of mine, --ha! ha!--and I believealso that no danger, not even the prospect of the garrote, will frightenhim from the settlement so long as he has the hope of anotherclandestine _tete-a-tete_ with her; and, knowing that she is ready tomeet him half-way in such a matter, he will not have lost hope yet. 

"But my second reason for believing he is still lurking about is thatwhich you yourself have brought forward. He is not likely to leave thembehind after what has happened. We have not blinded him;though--_Gracias a Dios_, or the devil--we have dusted the eyes ofeverybody besides! He knows all, as the girl Vicenza can well testify. Now, I have no belief that, knowing all this, he would leave them forany lengthened period. What I do believe is that the fellow is ascunning as a _coyote_, sees our trap, knows the bait, and won't becaught if he can help it. He is not far off, and, through theseaccursed peons of his, communicates with the women regularly andcontinually. "

"What can be done?"

"I have been thinking. "

"If we stop the peons from going back and forth they would be sure toknow the trap that was set around them. "

"Exactly so, Comandante. That would never do. "

"Have you considered any other plan?"

"Partly I have. "

"Let us hear it!"

"It is this. Some of those peons regularly visit the fellow in hislair. I feel certain of it. Of course they have been followed, butonly in daylight, and then they are found to be on their ordinarybusiness. But there is one of them who goes abroad at night; and allattempts at following him have proved abortive. He loses himself in thechapparal paths in spite of the spies. That is why I am certain hevisits the cibolero. "

"It seems highly probable. "

"Now if we can find one who could either follow this fellow or trackhim--but there's the difficulty. We are badly off for a good tracker. There is not one in the whole troop. "

"There are other ciboleros and hunters in the valley. Why not procureone of them?"

"True, we might--there are none of them over well disposed to theoutlaw--so it is said. But I fear there is none of them fit, that is, none who combines both the skill and the courage necessary for thispurpose--for both are necessary. They hate the fellow enough, but theyfear him as well. There is _one_ whom I have heard of, --in fact knowsomething of him, --who would be the very man for us. He not only wouldnot fear an encounter with the cibolero, but would hardly shun one withthe devil; and, as for his skill in all sorts of Indian craft, hisreputation among his kind is even greater than that of Carlos himself. "

"Who is he?"

"I should say there are two of them, for the two always go together; oneis a mulatto, who has formerly been a slave among the Americanos. He isnow a runaway, and therefore hates everything that reminds him of hisformer masters. Among other souvenirs, as I am told, he hates ourcibolero with a good stout hatred. This springs partly from the feelingalready mentioned, and partly from the rivalry of hunter-fame. So muchin our favour. The _alter ego_ of the mulatto is a man of somewhatkindred race, a _zambo_ from the coast near Matamoras or Tampico How hestrayed this way no one knows, but it is a good while ago, and themulatto and he have for long been shadows of each other; live together, hunt together, and fight for one another. Both are powerful men, andcunning as strong; but the mulatto is the zambo's master in everything, villainy not excepted. Neither is troubled with scruples. They wouldbe the very men for our purpose. "

"And why not get them at once?"

"Therein lies the difficulty--unfortunately they are not here atpresent. They are off upon a hunt. They are hangers-on of the mission, occasionally employed by the padres in procuring venison and other game. 

"Now it seems that the stomachs of our good abstemious fathers havelately taken a fancy to buffalo tongue cured in a certain way, which canonly be done when the animal is fresh killed. In order to procure thisdelicacy they have sent these hunters to the buffalo range. "

"How long have they been gone?--can you tell?"

"Several weeks--long before the return of our cibolero. "

"It is possible they may be on the way back. Is it not?"

"I think it quite probable, but I shall ride over to the mission thisvery hour and inquire. "

"Do so; it would be well if we could secure them. A brace of fellows, such as you describe these to be, would be worth our whole command. Lose no time. "

"I shall not waste a minute, " Roblado replied, and leaning over the wallhe called out, "Hola! Jose! my horse there!"

Shortly after a messenger came up to say that his horse was saddled andready. He was about to descend the escalera, when a largeclosely-cropped head--with a circular patch about the size of a blistershaven out of the crown--made its appearance over the stone-work at thetop of the escalera. It was the head of the Padre Joaquin, and the nextmoment the owner, bland and smiling, appeared upon the azotea. 

CHAPTER FIFTY. 

The monk who presented himself was the same who had figured at thedinner-party. He was the senior of the two that directed the mission, and in every respect the ruler of the establishment. He was known asthe Padre Joaquin, while his junior was the Padre Jorge. The latter wasa late addition to the post, whereas Padre Joaquin had been its directoralmost since the time of its establishment. He was, therefore, an oldresident, and knew the history and character of every settler in thevalley. For some reason or other he held an inveterate dislike to thefamily of the cibolero, to which he had given expression upon theevening of the dinner-party, --although he assigned no cause for hishostility. It could not have been because he regarded them as"hereticos, " for, though the Padre Joaquin was loud in his denunciationsof all who were outside the pale of the Church, yet in his own heart hecared but little about such things. His zeal for religion was sheerhypocrisy and worldly cunning. There was no vice practised in thesettlement in which Padre Joaquin did not take a leading part. Anadroit _monte_ player he was--ready to do a little cheating uponoccasions--a capital judge of game "gallos, " ever ready to stake hisonzas upon a "main. " In addition to these accomplishments, the padreboasted of others. In his cups, --and this was nothing unusual, --he wasin the habit of relating the _liaisons_ and _amourettes_ of his earlierlife, and even some of later date. Although the neophytes of themission were supposed to be all native Tagnos with dark skins, yet therewas to be seen upon the establishment quite a crowd of young_mestizoes_, both boys and girls, who were known as the "sobrinos" and"sobrinas" of Padre Joaquin. 

You cannot otherwise than deem this an exaggeration: you will imaginethat no reverend father could practise such conduct, and still be heldin any sort of respect by the people among whom he dwelt? So should Ihave thought had I not witnessed with my own eyes and ears the"priest-life" of Mexico. The immoralities here ascribed to PadreJoaquin can scarcely be called exceptional in his class. They arerather common than otherwise--some have even said _universal_. 

It was no zealous feeling of religion, then, that could have "set" themonk in such hostile attitude against the family of the poor cibolero. No. It was some old grudge against the deceased father, --some crosswhich the padre had experienced from him in the days of the formerComandante. 

As Padre Joaquin walked forward on the azotea, his busy bustling airshowed that he was charged with some "novedad;" and the triumphant smileupon his countenance told that he calculated upon its being of interestto those to whom he was about to communicate it. 

"Good day, father!--Good day, your reverence!" said the Comandante andRoblado speaking at the same time. 

"_Buenos dias, cavalleros_!" responded the padre. 

"Glad to see you, good father!" said Roblado. "You have saved me aride. I was just in the act of starting for the mission to wait uponyour reverence. "

"And if you had come, capitan, I could have given you a luxury to lunchupon. We have received our buffalo-tongues. "

"Oh! you have!" cried Vizcarra and Roblado in the same breath, and withan expression of interest that somewhat surprised the padre. 

"Ha! you greedy _ladrones_! I see what you would be after. You wouldhave me send you some of them. You sha'n't have a slice though--thatis, unless you can give me something that will wash this dust out of mythroat. I'm woeful thirsty this morning. "

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the officers. "What shall it be, father?"

"Well--let me see. --Ah!--a cup of `Bordeos'--that you received by lastarrival. "

The claret was ordered and brought up; and the padre, tossing off aglassful, smacked his lips after it with the air of one who well knewand appreciated the good quality of the wine. 

"_Linda! lindisima_!" he exclaimed, rolling his eyes up to heaven, as ifeverything good should come and go in that direction. 

"And so, padre, " said the impatient Roblado, "you have got yourbuffalo-tongues? Your hunters, then, have returned?"

"They have; that is the business that brought me over. "

"Good! that was the business that was about to take me to the mission. "

"An onza we were both on the same errand!" challenged the padre. 

"I won't bet, father; you always win. "

"Come! you'd be glad to give an onza for my news. "

"What news?--what news?" asked the officers at once, and with hurriedimpatience of manner. 

"Another cup of Bordeos, or I choke! The dust of that road is worsethan purgatory. Ah! this is a relief. "

And again the padre swallowed a large glassful of claret, and smackedhis lips as before. 

"Now your news, dear padre?"

"_Pues_, cavalleros--our hunters have returned!"

"_Y pues_?"

"_Pues que_! they have brought news. "

"Of what?"

"Of our friend the cibolero. "

"Of Carlos?"

"Precisely of that individual. "

"What news? Have they seen him?"

"No, not exactly _him_, but _his trail_. They have discovered his lair, and know where he is at this moment. "

"Good!" exclaimed Vizcarra and Roblado. 

"They can find him at any time. "

"Excellent!"

"_Pues_, cavalleros; that is my news at your service. Use it to youradvantage, if you can. "

"Dear padre!" replied Vizcarra, "yours is a wiser head than ours. Youknow the situation of affairs. Our troopers _cannot catch_ thisvillain. How would you advise us to act?"

The padre felt nattered by this confidence. 

"Amigos!" said he, drawing both of them together, "I have been thinkingof this; and it is my opinion you will do just as well without the helpof a single soldier. Take these two hunters into your confidence--sofar as may be necessary--equip them for the work--set them on the trail;and if they don't hunt down the heretic rascal, then I, Padre Joaquin, have no knowledge of men. "

"Why, padre!" said Roblado; "it's the very thing we have been thinkingabout--the very business for which I was about to seek you. "

"You had good reason, cavalleros. In my opinion, it's the best courseto be followed. "

"But will your hunters go willingly to work? They are free men, and maynot like to engage in so dangerous an enterprise. "

"Dangerous!" repeated the padre. "The danger will be no obstacle tothem, I promise you. They have the courage of lions and the agility oftigers. You need not fear that danger will stand in the way. "

"You think, then, they will be disposed to it?"

"They _are_ disposed--I have sounded them. They have some reasons oftheir own for not loving the cibolero too dearly; and therefore, cavalleros, you won't require to use much persuasion on that score. Ifancy you'll find them ready enough, for they have, been reading theproclamation, and, if I mistake not, have been turning over in theirthoughts the fine promises it holds out. Make it sure to them that theywill be well rewarded, and they'll bring you the cibolero's ears, or hisscalp, or his whole carcase, if you prefer it, in less than three daysfrom the present time! They'll track him down, I warrant. "

"Should we send some troopers along with them? The cibolero may not bealone. We have reason to believe he has a half-blood with him--a sortof right-hand man of his own--and with this help he may be quite a matchfor your hunters. "

"Not likely--they are very _demonios_. But you can consult themselvesabout that. They will know best whether they need assistance. That istheir own affair, cavalleros. Let them decide. "

"Shall we send for them? or will you send them to us?" inquired Roblado. 

"Do you not think it would be better for one of you to go to _them_?The matter should be managed privately. If they make their appearancehere, and hold an interview with either of you, your business with themwill be suspected, and perchance get known to _him_. If it should reachhis ears that these fellows are after him, their chances of taking himwould be greatly diminished. "

"You are right, father, " said Roblado. "How can we communicate withthese fellows privately?"

"Nothing easier than that, capitan. Go to their house--I should rathersay to their hut--for they live in a sort of hovel by the rocks. Theplace is altogether out of the common track. No one will be likely tosee you on your visit. You must pass through a narrow road in thechapparal; but I shall send you a guide who knows the spot, and he willconduct you. I think it like enough the fellows will be expecting you, as I hinted to them to stay at home--that possibly they might be wanted. No doubt you'll find them there at this moment. "

"When can you send up the guide?"

"He is here now--my own attendant will do. He is below in the court--you need lose no time. "

"No. Roblado, " added the Comandante, "your horse is ready--you cannotdo better than go at once. "

"Then go I shall: your guide, padre?"

"Esteban! Hola! Esteban!" cried the padre, leaning over the wall. 

"_Aqui, Senor_, " answered a voice. 

"_Sube! sube! anda_!" (Come up quickly. )

The next moment an Indian boy appeared upon the azotea, and taking offhis hat approached the padre with an air of reverence. 

"You will guide the capitan through the path in the chapparal to thehunters' hut. "

"Si, Senor. "

"Don't tell any one you have done so. "

"No, Senor. "

"If you do you shall catch the `cuarto. ' _Vaya_!"

Roblado, followed by the boy, descended the escalera; and, after beinghelped on his horse, rode away from the gate. 

The padre, at the invitation of Vizcarra, emptied another cup ofBordeos; and then, telling his host that a luncheon of the new luxuryawaited him at the mission, he bade him good day, and shuffled offhomeward. 

Vizcarra remained alone upon the azotea. Had any one been there towatch him, they would have noticed that his countenance assumed astrange and troubled expression every time his eyes chanced to wander inthe direction of La Nina. 

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE. 

Roblado entered the chapparal, the boy Esteban stepping a few paces inadvance of his horse's head. For half-a-mile or so he traversed aleading road that ran between the town and one of the passes. He thenstruck into a narrow path, but little used except by hunters or vaquerosin search of their cattle. This path conducted him, after a ride of twoor three miles, to the base of the cliffs, and there was found theobject of his journey--the dwelling-place of the hunters. 

It was a mere hut--a few upright posts supporting a single roof, whichslanted up, with a very slight inclination, against the face of therock. The posts were trunks of a species of arborescent yucca that grewplentifully around the spot, and the roof-thatch was the stiff loaves ofthe same, piled thickly over each other. There was a sort of rude door, made of boards split from the larger trunks of the yucca, and hung withstrong straps of _parfleche_, or thick buffalo leather. Also a holethat served for a window, with a shutter of the same material, andsimilarly suspended. The walls were a wattle of vines and slender polesbent around the uprights, and daubed carelessly with a lining of mud. The smooth vertical rock served for one side of the house--so that somuch labour had been spared in the building--and the chimney, which wasnothing better than a hole in the roof, conducted the smoke in such amanner that a sooty streak marked its course up the face of the cliff. The door entered at one end, close in by the rock, but the window was inthe side or front. Through the latter the inmates of the hut couldcommand a view of any one approaching by the regular path. This, however, was a rare occurrence, as the brace of rude hunters had but fewacquaintances, and their dwelling was far removed from any frequentedroute. Indeed, the general track of travel that led along the bottomline of the bluffs did not approach within several hundred yards of thispoint, in consequence of the indentation or bay in which the hut wasplaced. Moreover, the thick chapparal screened it from observation onone side, while the cliffs shut it in upon the other. 

Behind the house--that is, at the hinder end of it--was a small_corral_, its walls rudely constructed with fragments of rock. In thisstood three lean and sore-backed mules, and a brace of mustangs nobetter off. There was a field adjoining the corral, or what had oncebeen a field, but from neglect had run into a bed of grass and weeds. Aportion of it, however, showed signs of cultivation--a patch here andthere--on which stood some maize-plants, irregularly set and badly hoed, and between their stems the trailing tendrils of the melon and calabash. It was a true squatter's plantation. 

Around the door lay half-a-dozen wolfish-looking dogs; and under theshelter of the overhanging rock, two or three old pack-saddles restedupon the ground. Upon a horizontal pole two riding saddles were setastride--old, worn, and torn--and from the same pole hung a pair ofbridles, and some strings of jerked meat and pods of chile pepper. 

Inside the house might have been seen a couple of Indian women, not overcleanly in their appearance, engaged in kneading coarse bread andstewing tasajo. A fire burnt against the rock, between two stones--earthen pots and gourd dishes lay littered over the floor. 

The walls were garnished with bows, quivers, and skins of animals, and apair of embankments of stones and mud, one at each corner of the room--there was but one room--served as bedstead and beds. A brace of longspears rested in one corner, alongside a rifle and a Spanish _escopeta_;and above hung a machete or sword-knife, with powder-horns, pouches, andother equipments necessary to a hunter of the Rocky Mountains. Therewere nets and other implements for fishing and taking small game, andthese constituted the chief furniture of the hovel. All these thingsRoblado might have seen by entering the hut; but he did not enter, asthe men he was in search of chanced to be outside--the mulatto lyingstretched along the ground, and the zambo swinging in a hammock betweentwo trees, according to the custom of his native country--thecoast-lands of the _tierra caliente_. 

The aspect of these men, that would have been displeasing to almost anyone else, satisfied Roblado. They were just the men for his work. Hehad seen both before, but had never scrutinised them till now; and, ashe glanced at their bold swarthy faces and brawny muscular frames, hethought to himself, "These are just the fellows to deal with thecibolero. " A formidable pair they looked. Each one of them, so far asappearance went, might with safety assail an antagonist like thecibolero--for either of them was bigger and bulkier than he. 

The mulatto was the taller of the two. He was also superior instrength, courage, and sagacity. A more unamiable countenance it wouldhave been difficult to meet in all that land, without appealing to thatof the zambo. There you found its parallel. 

The skin of the former was dull yellow in colour, with a thin beard overthe cheeks and around the lips. The lips were negro-like, thick, andpurplish, and behind them appeared a double row of large wolfish teeth. The eyes were sunken--their whites mottled with yellowish flakes. Heavydark brows shadowed them, standing far apart, separated by the broadflatfish nose, the nostrils of which stood so widely open as to cause aprotuberance on each side. Large ears were hidden under a thickfrizzled shock that partook of the character both of hair and wool. Over this was bound, turban fashion, an old check Madras kerchief thathad not come in contact with soap for many a day; and from under itsfolds the woolly hair straggled down over the forehead so as to add tothe wild and fierce expression of the face. It was a countenance thatproclaimed ferocity, reckless daring, cunning, and an utter absence ofall humane sentiment. 

The dress of the man had little in it differing from others who lead thelife of a prairie-hunter. It was a mixture of leather and blanket. Thehead-dress only was peculiar. That was an old souvenir of the SouthernStates and their negro life. 

The zambo had a face as ferocious in its expression as that of hisconfrere. It differed in colour. It was a coppery black--combining thehues of both races from whom he derived his origin. He had the thicklips and retreating forehead of the negro, but the Indian showed itselfin his hair, which scarcely waved, but hung in long snaky tresses abouthis neck and shoulders. He was altogether less distinguished-lookingthan his comrade the mulatto. His dress partook of the character of histribe--wide trousers of coarse cotton stuff, with a sleeveless shirt ofthe same material, --a waist scarf, and coarse serape. Half the upperpart of his body was nude, and his thick copper-coloured arms were quitebare. 

Roblado arrived just in time to witness the _finale_ of an incident thatwould serve to illustrate the character of the zambo. 

He was half sitting, half-lying in his hammock, in the enjoyment of ahusk cigar, and occasionally striking at the flies with his raw-hidewhip. He called out to one of the women--his wife for the time--

"Nina! I want to eat something--is the _guisado_ ready?"

"Not yet, " answered a voice from the hut. 

"Bring me a tortilla then, with chile Colorado. "

"_Querido_--you know there is no chile Colorado in the house, " was thereply. 

"Nina! come here! I want you. "

The woman came out, and approached the hammock, but evidently with somemistrust. 

The zambo sat perfectly silent until she was close enough for hispurpose, and then, suddenly raising the raw-hide, which he had hithertoheld behind him, he laid it with all his strength over her back andshoulders. A thin chemisette was all that intervened to hinder the fullseverity of the blows, and these fell thick end fast, until the sufferertook courage and retreated out of reach!

"Now, Nina, dear love! the next time I call for a tortilla with chileColorado you'll have it--won't you, dear pet?"

And then laying himself back in his hammock, the savage uttered a roarof laughter, in which he was joined by the mulatto, who would have donejust the same by his better half for a like provocation!

It was just at this crisis Roblado pulled up in front of the hovel. 

Both got to their feet to receive him, and both saluted him with agesture of respect. They knew who he was. The mulatto, as theprincipal man, took the principal part in the conversation, while thezambo hung in the background. 

The dialogue was carried on in a low tone on account of the woman andthe boy Esteban. It resulted, however, in the hunters being engaged, asthe padre had suggested, to track and follow the cibolero Carlos todeath or capture. If the former, a large sum was to be their reward--ifthe latter, a sum still larger--nearly double!

With regard to assistance from the troops, neither mulatto nor zambowished for any. Quite the contrary. They had no desire that themagnificent bounty should be diminished by subdivision. As it stood, itwould be a small fortune to both of them, and the brilliant prospectwhetted their appetite for the success of the job. 

His errand having been thus accomplished, the officer rode back to thePresidio; while the man-hunters immediately set about makingpreparations for expedition. 

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO. 

The mulatto and zambo--Manuel and Pepe were their respective names--inhalf-an-hour after were ready for the road. Their preparations did notcost them half that time; but a quarter of an hour was spent on the_guisado_, and each smoked a husk cigarrito, while their horses weregrinding up the half-dozen heads of green maize that had been thrownthem. 

Having finished their cigars, the hunters leaped into their saddles, androde off. 

The mulatto was armed with a long rifle, of the kind used by Americanhunters, and a knife of the sort since known as a "Bowie, " with a strongthick blade keenly pointed and double-edged for some inches from thepoint--a terrible weapon in close combat. These arms he had broughtwith him from the Mississippi valley, where he had learnt how to usethem. 

The zambo carried an escopeta strapped in a slanting direction along theflap of his saddle, a machete upon his thigh, and a bow with a quiver ofarrows hung over his back. The last of these weapons--for certainpurposes, such as killing game, or when a silent shot may be desirable--is preferred to any sort of fire-arms. Arrows can be delivered morerapidly than bullets, and, should the first shot fail, the intendedvictim is less likely to be made aware of the presence of his enemy. 

In addition to these weapons, both had pistols stuck in their belts, andlazos hanging coiled from their saddle-bows. 

Behind them on the croup each carried his provisions--a few strips oftasajo with some cold tortillas tied in a piece of buckskin. Adouble-headed calabash for water, with sundry horns, pouches, and bags, completed their equipment. A pair of huge gaunt dogs trotted behindtheir horses' heels, fierce and savage-looking as their masters. Onewas the wolf-dog of the country, the other a Spanish bloodhound. 

"What road, Man'l?" inquired the zambo as they parted from the hut;"straight down to the Pecos?"

"No, Pepe boy: must climb, go round. Seen making down valley, somebodyguess what we're after--send him word we're coming. He suspect--we notgrow rich so easily. No--must get up by old track--cross to dry gully--down that to Pecos. Take longer--make things surer, boy Pepe. "

"Carrambo!" exclaimed Pepe. "It's a murderous climb. My poor beast'sso jaded with the buffalo running, that he'll scarce get up. _Carrai_!"

After a short ride through the thicket and along the bottom of thecliffs, they arrived at a point where a ravine sloped to the upperplain. Up the bottom of this ravine was a difficult pass--difficult onaccount of its steepness. Any other horses than mountain-rearedmustangs would have refused it, but these can climb like cats. Even thedogs could scarcely crawl up this ascent. In spite of its almostvertical slope, the hunters dismounted, crawled up, and, pulling theirhorses after them, soon reached the table-land above. 

After breathing themselves and their animals, they once more gotastride, and, heading northward, rode rapidly off over the plain. 

"Now, boy Pepe, " muttered the mulatto, "chance meet any sheep-keepers, going after antelope; you hear?"

"Ay, Man'l; I understand. "

These were the last words exchanged between them for ten miles. Theyrode in file--the mulatto in the lead, the zambo in his tracks, and thedogs following in the rear. These two went also in file, the bloodhoundheading the wolf. 

At the end of ten miles they reached a dry river channel, that rantransversely across their route. It was the same which Carlos and hisparty had followed on the day of their escape after the affair at thePresidio. The hunters entered it, and, turning downward, as Carlos haddone, followed it to its mouth upon the banks of the Pecos. Here was agrove of timber, which they entered, and, having dismounted, tied theirhorses to the trees. These animals, though lately arrived from a longjourney, and now having passed over more than thirty miles at a briskrate, showed no symptoms of being done up. Lean though they were, theypossessed the tough wiry strength of their race, and either of themcould have gone another hundred miles without breaking down. 

This their masters well knew, else they would have gone upon theirman-hunt with less confidence of success. 

"May gallop away on his fine black, " remarked the mulatto, as he glancedat the mustangs. "Soon overhaul him again--won't we, boy Pepe?"

"_Chinga_! we will. "

"Brace of hacks tire out racer, --won't they, boy Pepe?"

"_Chingara_! So they will, Man'l. "

"Don't want to try that game though--do the job easier; won't we, boyPepe?"

"I hope so, Man'l. "

"Cibolero in the cave sure--stays there--no better place for him. Won'tbe caught sleeping, --troopers never follow him up the pass. Convenientto valley. Goes back and forward spite of spies. Tracks could leadnowhere else--sure in the cave, horse and all. When? that the trouble, boy Pepe. "

"_Es verdad_! if we knew when he was in, or when he was out, either. "

"Ay, knew that, no difficulty, --set our trap easy enough, boy Pepe. "

"He must surely be there in daytime?"

"Just been thinking--goes to the settlements--must be by night, that'sclear--goes there, boy Pepe, maybe not to rancho, somewhere near. Mustgo to meet Anton. Not like Anton meet him at cave--guero too sharp forthat--goes out to meet Anton, sure!"

"Might we not track Anton?"

"Might track Anton--no good that--would have to deal with both together. Besides, don't want kill Anton--no ill-will to Anton--make things worseif find Anton with him. Never do, boy Pepe--have hands full with guerohimself--plenty do capture him. Must not forget capture--not kill--leave that to them. No use track Anton--know where t'other keeps. Ifdidn't know that, then might track Anton. "

"Can't we get near the cave in daylight, Man'l? I don't have a goodmemory of the place. "

"Mile--no nearer--unless he sleep--when sleep? Tell me that, boy Pepe!"

"And suppose he be awake?"

"See us enter the canon, mile off--jump into saddle, pass up to plainabove--maybe three days before find him again--maybe not find at all, boy Pepe. "

"Well, brother Man'l--I have a plan. Let us get near the mouth of thecanon, and hide outside of it till night--then as soon as it is darkcreep into where it narrows. He will come down that way to go out. What then? we can have a shot at him as he passes!"

"Pooh, boy Pepe! Think lose chance of half reward--risk whole by shotin dark? Dam! no--have whole or none--set us up for life--take himalive, take him alive, sure. "

"Well then, " rejoined the zambo, "let him pass out of the canon, andwhen he's gone clear out of reach we can go up, get into the cave, andwait his return. What say you to that?"

"Talk sense now, boy Pepe--something like plan about that--what we do--but not go inside canon till guero clear away. Only near enough see himgo out, then for cave--right plan to take him. Sun near dawn, time westart--come!"

"_Vamos_!"

Both mounted, and rode forward to the bank of the river. There was noford at the spot, but what of that? With scarce a moment's delay theyplunged their horses into the stream and swam across. The dogs followedtheir example, and all came out dripping on the opposite bank. Theevening was chill, but what was heat or cold to such men? Nothingsignified their wet clothes to them; and without halting they rodestraight forward to the ceja of the Llano Estacado, and having reachedit turned to the right, and rode along the base of the bluffs. 

After following the line of the ceja for two or three miles theyapproached a spur of the cliff that ran out into the plain, andgradually tapered to a point, sinking lower as it receded from theLlano. It ended in a clump, or rather several clusters, of isolatedrocks and boulders that stood near each other. The place was nottimbered, but the dark rocks irregularly piled upon each other gave it ashaggy appearance; and among their crevices, and the spaces betweenthem, was ample room for even a large party both of men and horses tolie concealed. 

The end of this rocky promontory was the point towards which the mulattowas steering. It formed one side of the ravine in which lay the cave, while another similar ridge bounded the ravine on its southern side. Between them a deep bay indented the cliff, from which a narrowdifficult pass opened up to the high plain above. It was the sameravine in which the cattle of the young ranchero Don Juan had beenslaughtered! These were no longer to be seen, but their bones werestill visible, scattered over the plain, and already bleached white. The wolves, vultures, and bears, had prepared them for that. 

The man-hunters at length reached their destination; and, having ledtheir horses in among the loose boulders, fastened them securely. Theythen crept up through crevices in the rocks, until they had reached thecrest of the ridge. From this point they commanded a view of the wholemouth of the land-bay, about three hundred yards in width, so that noobject, such as a man or horse, could pass out or in without theirobserving it--unless the night should chance to be very dark indeed. But they expected moonlight, by the help of which not even a cat couldenter the ravine without their seeing it. 

Having found a spot to their liking, they lay down, with their bodiesconcealed from any one who might be passing on the plain below either infront of or behind them. Their horses were already hidden among thelarge masses of rock. 

To the minds of both their purposed plan of action was clearlyunderstood. They had their reasons for believing that the cibolero, during his period of outlawry, was dwelling in a cave that opened intothis ravine, and which was well-known to the mulatto; that Carlos cameout in the night, and approached the settlements--the place was but tenmiles from his own rancho--and that he was met somewhere by Antonio, whogave him information of what was going on, bringing him provisions atthe same time. 

It was their intention to wait until Carlos should pass out, then occupythe cave themselves, and attack him on his return. True they might havewaylaid him on his going forth, but that might result in a failure. Catch him they could not while mounted. They might have crept nearenough to get a shot at him, but, as the mulatto had said, that wouldhave risked their losing him altogether. 

Moreover, neither wanted to take only his scalp. The mulatto inparticular had resolved on earning the double price by _taking himalive_. Even though it cost them some additional risk, his capturewould doubly reward them, and for money these desperadoes were ready toventure anything. Withal, they were not so daring as to have cared foran open encounter. They knew something of the mettle of "el guero, " butthey trusted to the advantage they should obtain over him by stratagem. On starting out they had resolved to follow him up, and steal upon himwhen asleep--and the plan which they had now formed had been the resultof cogitations by the way. In Manuel's mind it had been developed longbefore the suggestion of the zambo. 

They rested their hopes upon the belief that their victim would not knowthat they were after him--he could not have heard of their return fromthe buffalo-hunt, and therefore would be less on the alert. They knewif Carlos became aware that they were upon his trail he would pursue a_very_ different course from that observed towards his soldier-pursuers. From these he could easily hide at any time upon the Llano Estacado, but it was different with men like the hunters, who, though they mightnot overtake him at the first burst, could follow on and find him againwherever he should ride to. 

But both mulatto and zambo believed that their presence would beunsuspected by the guero, until they had laid hands upon him. Hencetheir confidence of success. 

They certainly had taken measures that promised it, supposing theirhypothesis to be correct--that is, supposing the cibolero to be in thecave at that moment, and that during the night he should come out of theravine. 

They were soon to know--the sun had already gone down. They would nothave long to watch. 

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE. 

Carlos _was_ in the cave, and at that very moment. Ever since theaffair at the Presidio he had made it his dwelling, his "lair, " and forreasons very similar to those which the mulatto had imparted to hiscompanion. It afforded him a safe retreat, and at a convenient distancefrom his friends in the valley. Out of the ravine he could pass withsafety by night, returning before day. During the day he slept. He hadlittle fear of being tracked thither by the troopers; but even had theydone so, his cave entrance commanded a full view of the ravine to itsmouth at nearly a mile's distance, and any one approaching from thatdirection could be perceived long before they were near. If a force oftroopers should enter by the mouth of the ravine, though both sides wereinaccessible cliffs, the cibolero had his way of escape. As alreadystated, a narrow pass, steep and difficult, led from the upper end ofthe gully to the plain above. Steep and difficult as it was, it couldbe scaled by the black horse; and, once on the wide plain of the LlanoEstacado, Carlos could laugh at his soldier-pursuers. 

The only time his enemies could have reached him would be during hishours of sleep, or after darkness had fallen. But Carlos was not afraideven then. He went to sleep with as much unconcern as if he had beensurrounded by a body-guard! This is explained by a knowledge of thefact that he _had_ his guard--a faithful guard--the dog Cibolo; foralthough Cibolo had received some lance-thrusts in his last terribleencounter, he had escaped without any fatal wound. He was still by theside of his master. While the latter slept the sagacious animal satupon the ledge, and watched the ravine below. The sight of a soldier'suniform would have raised the hair along Cibolo's back and drawn fromhim the warning growl. Even in the darkness no one could have gotwithin several hundred yards of the cave without attracting the noticeof the dog, who would have given his master time to get off from themost rapid pursuers. 

The cave was a large one, large enough to hold both men and horses. Water, pure crystal water, dripped from the rocks near its inner end, and lay collected in a tank, that from its round bowl-like shape seemedto have been fashioned by the hand of man. But it was not so. Naturehad formed this bowl and filled it with choicest water. Such aformation is by no means uncommon in that region. Caves containingsimilar tanks exist in the Waco and Guadalupe Mountains lying stillfarther to the south. 

It was just the spot for a hiding-place--a refuge for either robber, outlaw, or other fugitive; and circumstanced as Carlos was it was thevery dwelling for him. He had long known of its existence, and sharedthat knowledge only with hunters like himself and the wild Indians. Nosettlers of the valley ever ventured up that dark and dismal ravine. 

In his lair Carlos had ample time for reflection, and bitter often werehis reflections. He had information of all that passed. Antoniomanaged that. Nightly did he meet Antonio at a point on the Pecos, andreceive from him the "novedades" of the settlement. The cunning mulattohad guessed correctly. Had Antonio brought his news direct to the cave, he might have been followed, and the hiding-place of Carlos have beenthus discovered. To prevent that the cibolero nightly went forth tomeet him. 

Antonio, in collecting the news of the settlement, found in the younggirl Josefa an able adjutant. Through her he learnt that Catalina deCruces was kept under lock and key--that Roblado had only beenwounded, and would recover--that new officers went out with thescouting-parties--and that his master's head had risen in price. Theshallow artifice of the spies around the rancho had long been known toCarlos. Shallow as it was, it greatly annoyed him, as by these he wasprevented from visiting his mother and sister. Through Antonio, however, he kept up almost daily communication with them. He might havebeen apprehensive in regard to his sister after what had occurred, butthe villain Vizcarra was an invalid, and Carlos rightly judged whyRosita was permitted to go unmolested. He had little fear for her--atleast for a time--and ere that time expired he should bear her away, farout of the reach of such danger. 

It was for that opportunity he was now waiting. With, all the vigilanceof his foes, he had no fear but that he could _steal_ his own mother andsister almost at any time. But another was to be the companion of theirflight--another dear as they, and far more closely guarded!

For her only did he risk life daily--for her only did he sit hour afterhour in that lone cave brooding over plans, and forming schemes ofdesperate peril. 

Kept under lock and key--closely watched from morn to night, and nighttill morning--how was she to be rescued from such a situation? This wasthe problem upon which his mind now dwelt. 

She had given him the assurance of her willingness to go. Oh! why hadhe not proposed instant flight? Why did he neglect that golden moment?Why should either have thought of delay? That delay had been fatal--might retard their purpose for months, for years--perhaps for ever!

But little cared Carlos for the anger of his enemies--little for thecontempt in which he was held throughout the settlement--she alone washis care--his constant solicitude. His waking hours were all given tothat one thought--how he would rescue, not himself, but his mistress. 

No wonder he looked anxiously for the night--no wonder he rode withimpatient eagerness towards that lone rendezvous on the Pecos. 

Night had come again; and, leading his horse down the slope in front ofthe cave, he mounted and rode off toward the mouth of the canon. Thedog Cibolo trotted in advance of him. 

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR. 

The man-hunters had not long to wait. They had anticipated this. Therewas a moon which they had also expected. It was a bright moon atintervals, and then obscured--for minutes at a time--by the passage ofdark clouds over the canopy. 

There was no wind, however, and the air was perfectly still. Theslightest noise could have been heard for a long distance in theatmosphere of that elevated region--so pure and light that it vibratedafar with the slightest concussion. 

Sounds were heard, but they were not made by either the dogs or horsesof the hunters--well-trained to silence--nor by the hunters themselves. Both lay stretched in silence; or if they spoke, it was only in whispersand low mutterings. 

The sounds were those of nature--such as it exists in that wild region. The "snort" of the grizzly bear from the rocky ledge--the howling barkof the coyote--the "hoo-hoop" of the burrowing owl, and the shrillperiodical cries of the bull-bat and goatsucker. For a while these werethe only sounds that fell upon the ears of the ambushed hunters. 

Half-an-hour elapsed, and during all that time never permitted theireyes or ears to rest for a moment. They gazed up the ravine, and atintervals glanced outwards upon the plain. There was a probability thattheir victim might be abroad--even in the day--and with such men noprobability was allowed to pass without examination. Should it prove tobe so, and he were to return at that time, it would frustrate the planthey had arranged. But for such a contingency the mulatto had conceivedanother--that was, to steal during the night as near the cave aspossible--within rifle-shot if he could--wait until the guero shouldmake his appearance in the morning, and _wing_ him with a bullet fromhis rifle--in the use of which weapon the yellow hunter was wellskilled. To shoot the horse was another design. The horse once killedor crippled, the cibolero would be captured to a certainty; and both hadmade up their minds, in case a good opportunity offered, to despatch thenoble animal. 

These men knew a certain plan by which their victim could be killed orcaptured--that is, supposing they had been certain he was in the cave--aplan which could scarce have failed. But yet, for reasons of their own, they would not adopt it. 

It would have been simple enough to have conducted a party of dragoonsto the head of the pass, and there have stationed them, while anotherparty entered the canon from below. As the sides of the ravine wereimpassable precipices, the retreat of the cibolero would have been thuscut off at both ends. True, to have reached the upper plain, withoutgoing through the ravine itself--and that, as we have seen would havedefeated such a plan--would have cost a journey to the troop to bestationed above. But neither Vizcarra nor Roblado would have grudgedeither the time or the men to have rendered success thus sure. Themulatto and his dusky camarado knew all this perfectly, but to havecaused such a plan to be put in execution was the last thought in theirminds. Such a course would have been attended with but little peril tothem, but it would have brought as little pay, for every trooper in thewhole band would have claimed equal share in the promised reward. Thatwould not be satisfactory to the hunters, whose heads and knowledge hadfurnished the means and the ways. 

Neither entertained any idea of following such a course. Both wereconfident in their ability to effect their object without aid from anyquarter. 

From the time they had taken their station on the rock, half-an-hour wasall they had to wait. At the end of that period the quick ears of bothcaught the sound of some one coming from the direction of the ravine. They heard a horse's hoof striking upon loose shingle, and the rattlingof the displaced pebbles. A debris of broken fragments filled thebottom of the ravine, brought there during rain-torrents. Over this ranthe path. A horseman was coming down it. 

"The guero!" muttered the mulatto; "be sure, boy Pepe. "

"Trust you for a guess, brother Man'l: you were right about the trackswe first fell in with. The cave's his hiding-place to a certainty. We'll have him sure when he comes back. _Carrai_! yonder he comes!"

As the zambo spake, a tall dark form was perceived approaching down theravine. By the moon gleaming upon it, they could make out the figure ofa horse and rider. They had no longer any doubt it was their intendedvictim. 

"Brother Man'l, " whispered the zambo, "suppose he passes near! why notbring down the horse? you can't miss in this fine light--both of us canaim at the horse; if we stop him we'll easily overtake the guero. "

"Won't do, boy Pepe--not easily overtake guero afoot. Get off amongrocks--hide for days--can't track _him_ afoot--be on his guard after--give us trouble--old plan best--let pass--have him safe when he comeback--have him sure. "

"But Man'l--"

"Dam! no need for buts--always in a hurry, boy Pepe--have patience--nobuts, no fear. See, now!"

This last exclamation was intended to point out to Pepe that hissuggestion, even though a wise one, could not have been carried out, asthe horseman was not going to pass within range of either rifle orescopeta. 

It was plain he was heading down the middle of the canon, keepingequally distant from the sides, and this course would carry him out intothe open plain two hundred yards from the ambush of the hunters. 

So did it, for in a few moments he was opposite the spot where they lay, and at full that distance from them. A shot from a hunter's rifle wouldnot have reached him, and the bullet of an escopeta would have been anuncertain messenger. Neither thought of firing, but lay in perfectsilence, firmly holding their dogs down in the crevice of the rocks, andby gestures enjoining them to be still. 

The horseman advanced, guiding his horse at a slow pace, and evidentlyobserving caution as he went. While passing, the moon shone full uponhim, and the bright points of his harness and arms were seen sparklingunder her light. His fair complexion, too, could be distinguishedeasily, as also his fine erect figure, and the noble outlines of hishorse. 

"The guero!" muttered Manuel; "all right, boy Pepe!"

"What's yon ahead?" inquired the zambo. 

"Ha! didn't notice that. Dam! a dog! dog, sure. "

"It is a dog. _Malraya_!"

"Devil roast that dog!--heard of him before--splendid dog, boy Pepe. Dam! that dog give us trouble. Lucky, wind t'other way. Safe enoughnow. Dam! see!"

At this moment the horseman suddenly stopped, looking suspiciously inthe direction of the rocky spur where they lay. The dog had given somesign. 

"Dam!" again muttered the mulatto; "that dog give us trouble yet--thankour luck, wind t'other way. "

There was not much wind either way, but what there was was in the facesof the hunters, and blowing from the horseman. Fortunately for them itwas so, also Cibolo would have scented them to a certainty. 

Even as things stood, their ambush was near enough discovery. Someslight noise from that quarter--perhaps the hoof of one of their horsesagainst the turf--had awakened the dog's suspicions--though nothing hadbeen heard by his master. Neither was the dog sure--for the next momenthe threw down his head and trotted on. The horseman followed and in afew minutes both were out of sight. 

"Now, boy Pepe, for the cave!"

"_Vamos_!"

Both descended from the ridge, and, mounting their horses, rode throughamong the scattered rocks. They entered the ravine, and kept up itsedge until the gradual narrowing brought them into the same path bywhich the horseman had lately descended. Up this they rode, keepingtheir eyes bent on the cliff to the right--for on that side was thecave. 

They had no fear of their tracks being discernible, even should theguero return by daylight, for the path lay over hard rock already markedby the hoofs of his own horse. For all that the mulatto was uneasy; andat intervals repeated half to himself, and half in the hearing of hiscompanion--

"Dam! dog give trouble, sure give trouble--dam!"

At length the mouth of the cave, like a dark spot upon the rock, appeared on one side. After silently dismounting, and leaving his horsewith Pepe, the mulatto crawled up the ledge and reconnoitred theentrance. Even the probability that some one might have been left therewas not overlooked by this keen hunter, and every precaution was taken. 

After listening a moment at the entrance he sent in the dogs, and, asneither bark nor howl came out again, he was satisfied that all wassafe. He then crawled in himself, keeping on the shadowy side of therock. When he had got fairly within the cavern, he struck a light, atthe same time shading it so that the gleam might not fall on theoutside. With this he made a hurried examination of the interior; and, now satisfied that the place was untenanted, he came out again, andbeckoned his comrade to bring up the horses. 

These were led into the cave. Another reconnaissance was made, in whichthe few articles used by Carlos for eating and sleeping were discoveredupon a dry ledge. A serape, a small hatchet for cutting firewood, anolla for cooking, two or three cups, some pieces of jerked meat andfragments of bread, were the contents of the cavern. 

The best of these were appropriated by the intruders; and then, afterfastening their horses in a secure corner, and making themselvesthoroughly acquainted with the shape and position of the rocky interior, the light was extinguished, and, like beasts of prey, they placedthemselves in readiness to receive their unsuspecting victim. 

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE. 

Carlos, on leaving his cave, proceeded with the caution natural to onecircumstanced as he was. But this night he was more than usuallycareful. He scanned every bush and rock that stood near his path, andthat might have sheltered an enemy. Why to-night more cautious thanbefore? Because a suspicion had crossed his mind--and that, too, havingreference to the very men who were at the moment in ambush so near him!

At various times of late had his thoughts reverted to these men. Heknew them well, and knew the hostile feelings with which both, butparticularly the mulatto, regarded him. He thought of the probabilityof their being set upon his trail, and he knew their capability tofollow it. This had made him _more_ uneasy than all the scouting of thedragoons with their unpractised leaders. He was aware that, if thecunning mulatto and his scarce less sagacious comrade were sent afterhim, his cave would not shelter him long, and there would be an end tohis easy communication with the settlement. 

These thoughts were sources of uneasiness; and would have been stillmore so, had he not believed that the hunters were absent upon theplains. Under this belief he had hopes of being able to settle hisaffairs and get off before their return. That morning, however, hishopes had met with discouragement. 

It was a little after daylight when he returned to his hiding-place. Antonio, watched closely by the spies, had not been able to reach therendezvous until a late hour, --hence the detention of Carlos. On goingback to his cave he had crossed a fresh trail coming in from thenorthern end of the Llano Estacado. It was a trail of horses, mules, and dogs; and Carlos, on scrutinising it, soon acquainted himself withthe number of each that had passed. He knew it was the exact number ofthese animals possessed by the yellow hunter and his comrade; and thisstartled him with the suspicion that it was the return trail of thesemen from their hunt upon the prairies!

A further examination quite assured him of the truth of this. Thefootprints of one of the dogs differed from the rest; and although alarge one, it was not the track of the common wolf-dog of the country. He had heard that the yellow hunter had lately become possessed of alarge bloodhound. These must be _his_ tracks!

Carlos rode along the trail to a point where it had crossed an old pathof his own leading to the ravine. To his astonishment he perceivedthat, from this point, one of the horsemen, with several of the dogs, had turned off and followed his own tracks in that direction! No doubtthe man had been trailing him. After going some distance, however, thelatter had turned again and ridden back upon his former course. 

Carlos would have traced this party farther, as he knew they must havepassed on the evening before. But as it was now quite day, and theirtrail evidently led to the settlements, he dared not ride in thatdirection, and therefore returned to his hiding-place. 

The incident had rendered him thoughtful and apprehensive throughout thewhole of that day; and as he rode forth his reflections were upon thisvery subject--hence the caution of his movements. 

As he emerged from the ravine, the dog, as stated, made a demonstration, by suddenly turning toward the rocks, and uttering a low growl. Thiscaused Carlos to halt, and look carefully in that direction. But hecould see nothing that appeared suspicious; and the dog, after amoment's pause, appeared satisfied and trotted on again. 

"Some wild animal, perhaps, " thought Carlos, as he set his horse inmotion, and continued on over the plain. 

When fairly out into the open ground, he quickened his pace; and after aride of about six or seven miles arrived on the banks of the Pecos. Here he turned down-stream, and, once more riding with caution, approached a grove of low timber that grew upon the bank. This grovewas the point of rendezvous. 

When within a hundred yards of it, the cibolero halted upon the plain. The dog ran on before him, quartered the grove, and then returned to hismaster. The horseman then rode boldly in under the shadow of the trees, and, dismounting, took station upon one side of the timber, to watch forthe coming of his expected messenger. 

His vigil was not of long duration. In a few minutes a man on foot, bent into a crouching attitude, was seen rapidly advancing over theplain. When he had arrived within three hundred yards of the grove, hestopped in his tracks, and uttered a low whistle. To this signal thecibolero replied, and the man, again advancing as before, was soonwithin the shadow of the grove. It was Antonio. 

"Were you followed, amigo?" asked Carlos. 

"As usual, master; but I had no difficulty in throwing them off. "

"Hereafter it may not be so easy. "

"How, master?"

"I know your news--the yellow hunter has got back?"

"Carrambo! it is even so! How did you hear it, master?"

"This morning, after you had left me, I crossed a trail--I knew it mustbe theirs. "

"It was theirs, master. They came in last evening but I have worse newsthan that. "

"Worse!--what?"

"They're after _you_!"

"Ha! already? I guessed that they would be, but not so soon. How knowyou, Anton!"

"Josefa--she has a brother who is a kind of errand-boy to Padre Joaquin. This morning the Padre took him over to the Presidio, and from theresent him to guide Captain Roblado to the yellow hunter's hut. The Padrethreatened the boy if he should tell any one; but on his return to themission he called on his mother; and Josefa, suspecting he had been onsome strange errand--for he showed a piece of silver--got it all out ofhim. He couldn't tell what Roblado and the hunters talked about, but hefancied the latter were preparing to go somewhere as he left them. Now, putting one thing with another, I'm of the mind, master, they're on yourtrail. "

"No doubt of it, amigo--I haven't the slightest doubt of it. So--I'llbe chased out of my cave--that's certain. I believe they have asuspicion of where I am already. Well, I must try to find anotherresting-place. 'Tis well I have got the wind of these rascals--they'llnot catch me asleep, which no doubt they flatter themselves they'regoing to do. What other news?"

"Nothing particular. Josefa saw the girl Vicenza last night in companywith Jose, but she has had no opportunity of getting a word with thesenorita, who is watched closely. She has some business with theportero's wife to-morrow. She hopes to hear something from her. "

"Good Antonio, " said Carlos, dropping a piece of money into the other'shand, "give this to Josefa--tell her to be active. Our hopes restentirely with her. "

"Don't fear, master!" replied the half-blood. "Josefa will do her best, for the reason that, " smiling, "_her_ hopes, I believe, rest entirelyupon _me_. "

Carlos laughed at the _naive_ remark of his faithful companion, and thenproceeded to inquire about other matters, --about his mother and sister, about the troopers, the spies, and Don Juan. 

About the last Antonio could give him no information that was new. DonJuan had been arrested the day after the affair at the Presidio, andever since had been kept a close prisoner. The charge against him washis having been an accomplice of Carlos, and his trial would take placewhenever the latter should be captured. 

Half-an-hour was spent in conversation, and then Carlos, having receivedfrom the half-blood the packages containing provisions, prepared toreturn to his hiding-place in the Llano Estacado. 

"You will meet me here to-morrow night again, Anton, " said he atparting. "If anything should happen to prevent me coming, then look forme the night after, and the night after that. So _buenas noches, amigo_!"

"_Buenos noches, mi amo_!" ("Good night, master!")

And with this salutation the friends--for they were go--turned theirbacks on each other and parted. 

Antonio went crouching back in the direction of the valley; while thecibolero, springing to his saddle, rode off toward the frowning bluffsof the Llano. 

CHAPTER FIFTY SIX. 

The "report" delivered by Antonio was of a character to have causedserious apprehension to the cibolero--fear, in fact, had he been the manto have such a feeling. It had the effect of still further increasinghis caution, and his mind was now bent with all its energies upon thecraft of taking care of himself. 

Had he contemplated an open fight, even with the two strong men who wereseeking him, he would have been less uneasy about the result; but heknew that, strong as they were, these ruffians would not attack himwithout some advantage. They would make every effort to surprise himasleep, or otherwise take him unawares. Against their wiles he had nowto guard himself. 

He rode slowly back to the ravine, his thoughts all the while busiedabout the yellow hunter and his companion. 

"They must know of the cave, " so ran his reflections. "Their followingmy trail yesterday is an evidence that they suspected something in thedirection of the ravine. They had no doubt heard of late affairs beforegetting so far. Some _hatero_ on the outer plains has told them all, very like; well, what then? They have hastened on to the mission. Ha!the Padre Joaquin took the boy over to the Presidio. I see--I see--thePadre is the `patron' of these two ruffians. They have told himsomething, else why should he be off to the Presidio so early? Newsfrom them--and then Roblado starting directly after to seek them!Clear--clear--they have discovered my hiding-place!"

After a pause:--

"What if they have reached the ravine in my absence? Let me see. Yes, they've had time enough to get round; that is, if they started soonafter Roblado's interview. The boy thinks they did. By Heaven! it'snot too soon for me to be on the alert. "

As this thought passed through the cibolero's mind, he reined up hishorse; and, lowering his head, glanced along the neck of the animal intothe darkness before him. He had now arrived at the mouth of the canon, and nearly on the same track by which he had ridden out of it; but themoon was under thick clouds, and the gloom of the ravine was no longerrelieved by her light. 

"It would be their trick, " reflected he, "to get inside the canon, atits narrow part, and wait for me to come out of the cave. They wouldwaylay me pretty handy there. Now suppose they _are_ up the canon atthis moment!"

For a moment he paused and dwelt upon this hypothesis. He proceededagain. 

"Well, let them; I'll ride on. Cibolo can beat the rocks a shot's rangeahead of me. If they're ambushed there without him finding them, they'll be sharper fellows than I take them to be; and I don't considerthem flats, either, the scoundrels! If he start them, I can soon gallopback out of their reach. Here! Cibolo!"

The dog, that had stopped a few paces in front, now came running back, and looked up in his master's face. The latter gave him a sign, uttering the simple word "Anda!"

At the word the animal sprang off, and commenced quartering the groundfor a couple of hundred yards in advance. 

Following him, the horseman moved forward. 

In this way he approached the point where the two walls convergingnarrowed the canon to a space of little more than a hundred yards. Along the bases of the cliffs, on both sides, lay large loose rocks, that would have given cover to men in ambush, and even horses might havebeen concealed behind them. 

"This, " thought Carlos, "would be the place chosen for their cowardlyattack. They might hit me from either side with half an aim. ButCibolo makes no sign. --Ha!"

The last exclamation was uttered in a short sharp tone. It had beencalled forth by a low yelp from the dog. The animal had struck thetrail where the yellow hunter and his companion had crossed to themiddle of the ravine. The moon had again emerged from the clouds, andCarlos could see the dog dashing swiftly along the pebbles and up theravine towards the mouth of the cavern!

His master would have called him back, for he was leaving the looserocks unsearched, and, without that being done, Carlos felt that itwould be perilous to proceed farther; but the swiftness with which thedog had gone forward showed that he was on a fresh trail; and it nowoccurred to the cibolero that his enemies might be within the caveitself!

The thought had hardly crossed his mind when the dog uttered severalsuccessive yelps! Although he had got out of sight, his master knewthat he was at that moment approaching the mouth of the cave, andrunning upon a fresh scent. 

Carlos drew up his horse and listened. He dare proceed no farther. Hedared not recall the dog. His voice would have been heard if any onewere near. He reflected that he could do no better than wait till thedog should return, or by his attack give some sign of what he was after. It might, after all, be the grizzly bear, or some other animal, he waspursuing. 

The cibolero sat upon his horse in perfect silence--not unpreparedthough for any sudden attack. His true rifle lay across his thighs, andhe had already looked to its flint and priming. He listened to everysound, while his eyes pierced the dark recesses of the ravine before andaround him. 

For only a few moments this uncertainty lasted, and then back down thechasm came a noise that caused the listener to start in his saddle. Itresembled the worrying of dogs, and for a moment Carlos fancied thatCibolo had made his attack upon a bear! Only a moment did this illusionlast, for his quick ear soon detected the voices of more dogs than one;and in the fierce confusion he distinguished the deep-toned bark of a_bloodhound_!

The whole situation became clear to him at once. His enemies had beenawaiting him in the cave--for from it he was certain that the soundsproceeded. 

His first instinct was to wheel his horse and gallop out of the canon. He waited a moment, however, and listened. 

The worrying noise continued, but, amid the roar find barking of thedogs, Carlos could distinguish the voices of men, uttered in low hurriedtones, as if addressing the dogs and also one another. 

All at once the conflict appeared to cease, for the animals becamesilent, except the hound, who at intervals gave out his deep loud bray. In a moment more he, too, was silent. 

Carlos knew by this silence that Cibolo had either been killed upon thespot, or, having been attacked by men, had sheered off. In either caseit would be of no use waiting his return. If alive, he knew that thedog would follow and overtake him. Without further delay, therefore, heturned his horse's head, and galloped back down the ravine. 

CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN. 

On arriving at the month of the ravine he halted--not in the middle ofthe plain, but under the shadow of the rocks--the same rocks where thehunters had placed themselves in ambush. He did not dismount, but satin his saddle, gazing up the canon, and listening for some token of theexpected pursuit. 

He had not been long in this spot when he perceived a dark objectapproaching him. It gave him joy, for he recognised Cibolo coming alonghis trail. The next moment the dog was by his stirrup. The cibolerobent down in his saddle, and perceived that the poor brute was badly cutand bleeding profusely. Several gashes appeared along his side, and onenear his shoulder exhibited a flap of hanging skin, over which the redstream was pouring. The animal was evidently weak from loss of blood, and tottered in his tracks. 

"Amigo!" said Carlos, "you have saved my life to a certainty. It's myturn to save yours--if I can. "

As he said this he dismounted, and, taking the dog in his arms, climbedback into the saddle. 

For a while he sat reflecting what to do, with his eyes turned in thedirection from which he expected the pursuit. 

He had now no doubt as to who were the occupants of the cave. The bayof the hound was satisfactory evidence of the presence of the yellowhunter, and of course the zambo was along with him. Carlos knew of noother bloodhound in the settlement--the one heard must be that of themulatto. 

For some minutes he remained by the rocks, considering what course hehad best take. 

"I'll ride on to the grove, " reflected he, "and hide in it till Antoniocomes. They can't track me this night--it will be too dark. The wholesky is becoming clouded--there will be no more moon to-night I can liehid all day to-morrow, if they don't follow. If they do, why, I can seethem far enough off to ride away. My poor Cibolo, how you bleed!Heavens, what a gash! Patience, brave friend! When we halt, yourwounds shall be looked to. Yes! to the grove I'll go. They won'tsuspect me of taking that direction, as it is towards the settlements. Besides they can't trail me in the darkness. Ha! what am I thinkingof?--not trail me in the darkness! What! I had forgotten thebloodhound! O God, preserve me! These fiends can follow me were it asdark as pitch! God preserve me!"

An anxious expression came over his countenance, and partly from theburden he held in his arms, and partly from the weight of his thoughts, he dropped into an attitude that betokened deep depression. For thefirst time the hunted outlaw showed symptoms of despair. 

For a long while he remained with his head leaning forward, and his bodybent over the neck of his horse. 

But he had not yet yielded to despair. 

All at once he started up, as if some thought, suddenly conceived, hadgiven him hopes. A new resolution seemed to have been taken. 

"Yes!" he soliloquised, "I shall go to the grove--direct to the grove. Ha! you bloodthirsty yellow-skin, I'll try your boasted skill. We shallsee--we shall see. Maybe you'll get your reward, but not that you arecounting upon. You have yet something to do before you take the scalpof Carlos the cibolero!"

Muttering these words he turned his horse's head, renewed his hold ofthe dog and the bridle, and set off across the plain. 

He rode at a rapid pace, and without casting a look behind him. Heappeared to be in a hurry, though it could not be from fear of beingovertaken. No one was likely to come up with him, so long as he kept onat such a pace. 

He was silent, except now and then when he addressed some kind word tothe dog Cibolo, whose blood ran over his thighs, and down the flanks ofthe horse. The poor brute was weak, and could no longer have kept hisfeet. 

"Patience, old friend!--patience!--you shall soon have rest from thisjolting. "

In less than an hour he had reached the lone grove on the Pecos--thesame where he had lately parted with Antonio. Here he halted. It wasthe goal of his journey. Within that grove he had resolved on passingthe remainder of the night, and, if not disturbed, the whole of thefollowing day. 

The Pecos at this point, and for many miles above and below, ran betweenlow banks that rose vertically from the water. On both sides its"bottom" was a smooth plain, extending for miles back, where it steppedup to a higher level. It was nearly treeless. Scattered clumps grew atdistant intervals, and along its margin a slight fringing of willows. This fringe was not continuous, but broken here and there by gaps, through which the water might be seen. The timber clumps were composedof cotton-wood trees and live-oak, with acacias forming an underwood, and occasionally plants of cactus growing near. 

These groves were so small, and so distant from each other, that theydid not intercept the general view of the surface, and a personoccupying one of them could see a horseman, or other large object, at agreat distance. A man concealed in them could not have been approachedby his enemy in daylight, if awake and watching. At night, of course, it was different, and the security then afforded depended upon thedegree of darkness. 

The "motte" at which the cibolero had arrived was far apart from any ofthe others, and commanded a view of the river bottom on both sides formore than a mile's distance. The grove itself was but a few acres insize, but the fringe of willows running along the stream at both endsgave it, when viewed from a distance, the appearance of a wood of largerdimensions. It stood upon the very bank of the stream, and the selvedgeof willows looked like its prolongation. These, however, reached but afew feet from the water's edge, while the grove timber ran out severalhundred yards into the plain. 

About this grove there was a peculiarity. Its central part was nottimbered, but open, and covered only with a smooth sward ofgramma-grass. It was, in fact, a glade, nearly circular in shape, andabout a hundred yards in diameter. On one side of this glade the riverimpinged, its bank being almost a tangent line to it. Here there was agap in the timber, so that out of the glade could be obtained a view ofthe bottom on the other side of the stream. Diametrically opposite tothis gap another opening, of an avenue-like form, led out into theadjacent plain, so that the grove was in reality bisected by an openline, which separated it into two groves, nearly equal in extent. Thisseparation could only be observed from certain positions in the plain--one on each side of the river. 

The glade, the avenue of a dozen yards loading from it to the outsideplain, and the plain itself, were all perfectly level, and covered witha smooth turf. Any object upon their surface would be easilyperceptible at a distance. The grove was thickly stocked withunderwood--principally the smaller species of "mezquite. " There wasalso a network of vines and llianas that, stretching upward, twinedaround the limbs of the live-oaks--the latter forming the highest andlargest timber of all. The underwood was impenetrable to the eye, though a hunter could have crept through it in pursuit of game. Atnight, however, even under moonlight, it appeared a dark and impassablethicket. 

On one side of the glade, where the ground was dry and sandy, therestood a small clump of _pitahaya_ cactus. There were not over a dozenplants in all, but two or three of them were large specimens, sending uptheir soft succulent limbs nearly as high as the live-oaks. Standing bythemselves in massive columns, and so unlike the trees that surroundedthem, they gave a peculiar character to the scene; and the eye, unaccustomed to these gigantic candelabra, would scarce have known towhat kingdom of nature they belonged--so unlike were they to theordinary forms of vegetation. 

Such were the features of the spot where the hunted outlaw soughtshelter for the night. 

CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT. 

Carlos spoke the truth, when he gave his dog the credit of having savedhis life, or, at all events, his liberty, which in the end amounted tothe same thing. But for the sagacious brute having preceded him, hewould certainly have entered the cave, and as certainly would he havebeen captured. 

His cunning adversaries had taken every step necessary for securing him. They had hidden their horses far back in the cavern. They had placedthemselves behind the jutting rocks--one on each side of the entrance--so that the moment he should have shown himself they were prepared tospring upon him like a brace of tigers. 

Their dogs, too, were there to aid them--crouched by the side of theirmasters, and along with them, ready to seize upon the unsuspectingvictim. 

It was a well-planned ambuscade, and so far well-executed. The secrecywith which the hunters had left the settlement, and made theirroundabout journey--their adroit approach to the ravine--their patientbehaviour in watching till Carlos had ridden out of the way, and theirthen taking possession of the cave, were all admirably executedmanoeuvres. 

How was it possible the cibolero could be aware of, or even suspect, their presence? They did not for a moment fancy that he knew of theirreturn from their hunting expedition. It was quite dark the nightbefore, when they had passed up the valley to the mission; and afterunpacking the produce of their hunt, which had been done withoutobservation, the Padre Joaquin had enjoined on them not to showthemselves in the town before he should send them word. But few of themission servants, then, knew of their return; and for the rest, no oneknew anything who would or could have communicated it to Carlos. Therefore, reasoned they, he could have no suspicion of their being inthe cave. As to their trail up the ravine, he would not notice it onhis return. He would only strike it where it led over the shingle, and, of course, there it would not be visible even in daylight. 

Never was a trap better set. He would walk into the caveunsuspectingly, and perhaps leading his horse. They would spring uponhim--dogs and all--and pinion him before he could draw either pistol orknife! There seemed no chance for him. 

For all that there _was_ a chance, as the yellow hunter well knew; andit was that which caused him at intervals to mutter--

"Dam! fear dog give us trouble, boy Pepe. "

To this the zambo's only response was the bitter shibboleth--"_Carajo_!"showing that both were uneasy about the dog. Long before this time bothhad heard of the fame of Cibolo, though neither had a full knowledge ofthe perfect training to which that sagacious animal had attained. 

They reflected that, should the dog enter the cave first, they would bediscovered by him, and warning given to his master. Should he enter itbefore the latter had got near, the chances were that their ambuscadewould prove a failure. On the other hand, should the dog remain in therear, all would go right. Even should he approach at the same time withhis master, so that the latter might get near without being alarmed, there would still be a chance of their rushing out upon and shootingeither horse or rider. 

Thus reasoned these two treacherous ruffians in the interim of thecibolero's absence. 

They had not yet seated themselves in the positions they designed totake by the entrance of the cave. They could occupy these at a moment'swarning. They stood under the shadow of the rocks, keeping watch downthe ravine. They knew they might be a long time on their vigil, andthey made themselves as comfortable as possible by consuming the meagrestock of provisions which the cibolero had left in the cave. Themulatto, to keep out the cold, had thrown the newly appropriated blanketupon his shoulders. A gourd of chingarito, which they had taken care tobring with them, enabled them to pass the time cheerfully enough. Theonly drawback upon their mirth was the thought of the dog Cibolo, whichevery now and again intruded itself upon the mind of the yellow hunter, as well as upon that of his darker confrere. 

Their vigil was shorter than either had anticipated. They fancied thattheir intended victim might make a long ride of it--perhaps to theborders of the settlement--that he might have business that would detainhim, and that it might be near morning before he would get back. 

In the midst of those conjectures, and while it still wanted some hoursof midnight, the mulatto, whose eyes were bent down the ravine, was seensuddenly to start, and grasp his companion by the sleeve. 

"Look!--yonder, boy Pepe! Yonder come guero!"

The speaker pointed to a form approaching from the plain, and nearingthe narrow part of the ravine. It was scarce visible by the uncertainlight, and just possible to distinguish it as the form of a man onhorseback. 

"Carr-rr-a-ai! it is--carr-r-ai!" replied the zambo, after peering forsome time through the darkness. 

"Keep close in, boy Pepe! hwish! Pull back dog! take place--lie close--I watch outside--hwish!"

The zambo took his station according to the plan they had agreed upon;while the yellow hunter, bloodhound in hand, remained by the entrance ofthe cave. In a few moments the latter was seen to start up with agesture of alarm. 

"Dam!" he exclaimed. "Dam! told you so--till lost--ready, boy Pepe--dogon our trail!"

"Carajo, Man'l! what's to be done?" eagerly inquired the zambo. 

"In--in--let come in--kill 'im in cave--in!"

Both rushed inside and stood waiting. They had hastily formed thedesign of seizing the cibolero's dog the moment he should enter thecave, and strangling him if possible. 

In this design they were disappointed; for the animal, on reaching themouth of the cave, refused to enter, but stopped upon the ledge outsideand commenced barking loudly. 

The mule uttered a cry of disappointment, and, dropping the bloodhound, rushed forward, knife in hand, to attack Cibolo. At the same moment thehound sprang forward, and the two dogs became engaged in a desperateconflict. This would have terminated to the disadvantage of the hound, but, in another moment, all four--mulatto, zambo, hound, and wolf--wereassailing Cibolo both with knives and teeth. The latter, seeing himselfthus overmatched, and having already received several bad cuts, prudently retreated among the rocks. 

He was not followed, as the ruffians had still some hopes that thecibolero, not suspecting what it could mean, might yet advance towardsthe cave. But these hopes were of short duration. Next moment throughthe dim light they perceived the horseman wheel round, and gallop offtowards the mouth of the ravine!

Exclamations of disappointment, profane ejaculations, and wild oaths, echoed for some minutes through the vaulted cavern. 

The excited ruffians at length became more cool, and, groping about inthe darkness, got hold of their horses, and led them out upon the ledge. Here they stopped to give farther vent to their chagrin, and todeliberate on their future course. 

To attempt immediate pursuit would not avail them, as they well know thecibolero would be many a mile out of their reach before they coulddescend to the plain. 

For a long time they continued to give utterance to expressions ofchagrin, mingled with anathemas upon the head of the dog, Cibolo. Atlength becoming tired of this, they once more set their heads tobusiness. 

The zambo was of opinion it would be useless to go farther that night--they had no chance of coming up with the cibolero before morning--indaylight they would more easily make out his trail. 

"Boy Pepe, fool!" was the mulatto's reply to these observations. "Trackby daylight--be seen--spoil all, fool Pepe!"

"Then what way, brother Man'l?"

"Dam! forgot bloodhound? Trail by night fast as ride--soon overtakeguero. "

"But, brother Man'l, he's not going to stop short of ten leagues fromhere! We can't come up with him to-night, can we?"

"Fool again, boy Pepe! Stop within ten miles--stop because won't thinkof bloodhound--won't think can trail 'im--stop, sure. Dam! that dogplayed devil--thought he would--dam!"

"Malraya! _he_ won't trouble us any more. "

"Why think that, boy Pepe?"

"Why, brother Man'l! because I had my blade into him. He'll not limpmuch farther, I warrant. "

"Dam! wish could think so--if could think so, give double onza. But fordog have guero now. But for dog, get guero before sun up. Stop soon--don't suspect us yet--don't suspect hound--stop, I say. By mighty God--sure!"

"How, brother Man'l? you think he'll not go far off?"

"Sure of it. Guero not ride far--nowhere to go--soon trail 'im--find'im asleep--crawl on 'im but for dog--crawl on 'im sure. "

"If you think so, then I don't believe you need trouble yourself aboutthe dog. If he lives twenty minutes after the stab I gave him, he's atough brute, that's all. You find the guero, I promise you'll find nodog with him. "

"Hope so, boy Pepe--try anyhow. Come!" Saying this, the yellow hunterstraddled his horse, and followed by the zambo and the dogs commencedmoving down the rocky channel of the ravine. 

CHAPTER FIFTY NINE. 

Having arrived at the point where the horseman had been last seen, themulatto dismounted, and called up the bloodhound. He addressed somewords to the dog, and by a sign set him on the trail. The animalunderstood what was wanted, and, laying his nose to the ground, ranforward silently. The hunter again climbed back to his saddle, and bothhe and his companion spurred their horses so as to keep pace with thebloodhound. 

This was easy enough, though the moon was no longer seen. The colour ofthe dog--a very light red--rendered him conspicuous against the darkgreensward, and there were neither bushes nor long grass to hide him. Moreover, by the instruction of his master, he moved slowly along thetrail--although the scent was still fresh, and he could have gone at amuch faster rate. He had been trained to track slowly in the night, andalso to be silent about it, so that the "bay" peculiar to his race wasnot heard. 

It was two hours, full time, before they came in sight of the grovewhere the cibolero had halted. The moment the mulatto saw the timber, he pointed to it, muttering to his companion:--

"See, boy Pepe! dog make for island--see! Bet onza guero there. Dam!there sure!"

When they had arrived within five or six hundred yards of the grove--itwas still but dimly visible under the darkening sky--the yellow huntercalled the dog off the trail, and ordered him to keep behind. He knewthat the horseman must have passed either into the grove or close besideit. In either case his trail could be easily taken up again. If--asthe mulatto from his excited manner evidently believed--their victim wasstill in the grove, then the dog's sagacity was no longer needed. Thetime was come for them to take other measures. 

Diverging from his forward course, the yellow hunter rode in a circle, keeping at about the same distance from the edge of the timber. He wasfollowed by his companion and the dogs. 

When opposite the gap made by the avenue, a bright blaze struck suddenlyupon their eyes, causing both to rein up with an exclamation ofsurprise. They had arrived at a point commanding a view of the glade, in the centre of which they perceived a large fire!

"Told so, boy Pepe! fool's asleep yonder--never dream could trail him bynight--don't like cold--good fire--believe safe enough. Know thatglade--cunning place--only see fire from two points. Ha! yonder horse!"

The figure of a horse standing near the fire was plainly discernibleunder the light. 

"Dam!" continued the hunter; "guero bigger fool than thought 'im. Mighty God, see! believe 'im sleep yonder! him, sure!"

As the mulatto uttered these words, he pointed to a dark form by thefire. It appeared to be the body of a man, prostrate and asleep. 

"_Santisima_, it is!" replied the zambo. "Snug by the fire too. He_is_ a fool! but, sure enough, he could have no thought of our followinghim in a night so dark as this. "

"Hwish, dam! dog not there, guero ours! No more talk, boy Pepe! followme!"

The mulatto headed his horse, not direct for the grove, but for a pointon the bank of the river some distance below. They rode silently, butnow with more rapidity. 

Their victim was just where they would have wished him, and they were ina hurry to take advantage of his situation. The nature of the groundwas well-known to both, for they had shot deer from the cover of thatvery copse. 

On arriving at the river bank, both dismounted; and having tied boththeir horses and dogs to the willows, they commenced moving forward inthe direction of the grove. 

They observed less caution than they might otherwise have done. Theyfelt certain their victim was asleep by the fire. Fool, they thoughthim! but then how was he to have suspected their presence? The mostcunning might have deemed himself secure under such circumstances. Itwas natural enough that he had gone to sleep, wearied as no doubt hewas. Natural, too, that he had kindled a fire. The night had becomeunpleasantly cold, and it would have been impossible to sleep without afire. All that seemed natural enough. 

They reached the edge of the grove, and without hesitation crawled intothe underwood. 

The night was still, the breeze scarce turned a leaf, and the slightestrustling among the bushes could have been heard in any part of theglade. A low murmur of water from a distant rapid, a light ripple inthe nearer stream, the occasional howl of the prairie wolf, and thedismal wailing of nightbirds, were the only sounds that fell upon theear. 

But although the man-stalkers were making their way through thickunderwood, not a sound betokened their advance. There was no rustlingof leaves, no snapping of twigs, no crackling of dead sticks under thepressure of hand or knee, no signs of human presence within that darkshrubbery. These men well knew how to thread the thicket. Silent, asthe snake glides through the grass, was their advance. 

In the glade reigned perfect silence. In its very centre blazed a largefire that lit up the whole surface with its brilliant flames. It waseasy to distinguish the form of a fine steed--the steed of thecibolero--standing near the fire; and, nearer still, the prostrate formof his master, who seemed asleep! Yes, there were the manga, thesombrero, the botas and spurs. There was the lazo reaching from theneck of the horse, and, no doubt, wound around the arm of the sleeper!All these points could be determined at a glance. 

The horse started, struck the ground with his hoof and then stood stillagain!

What had he heard? Some wild beast moving near?

No, not a wild beast--worse than that. 

Upon the southern edge of the glade a face looked out from theunderwood--a human face! It remained but a moment, and was then drawnback behind the leaves. That face could easily have been recognised, his yellow complexion, conspicuous under the glare of the blazing wood, told to whom it belonged. It was the face of Manuel the mulatto. 

For some moments it remained behind the leafy screen. Then it wasprotruded as before, and close beside it another face of darker hue. Both were turned in the same direction. Both regarded the prostrateform by the fire, that still appeared to be sound asleep! The eyes ofboth were gleaming with malignant triumph. Success seemed certain--their victim was at length within their power!

The faces were again withdrawn, and for a minute neither sound nor sightgave any indication of their presence. At the end of that minute, however, the head of the mulatto was again protruded, but this time at adifferent point, close to the surface of the ground, and where there wasan opening in the underwood. 

In a moment more his whole body was drawn through, and appeared in arecumbent position within the glade. 

The head and body of the zambo followed; and both now glided silentlyover the grass in the direction of the sleeper. Flat upon theirbellies, like a pair of huge lizards, they moved, one following in theother's trail!

The mulatto was in the advance. His right hand grasped a long-blade, knife, while his gun was carried in the left. 

They moved slowly and with great caution--though ready at any moment tospring forward should their victim awake and become aware of theirpresence. 

The unconscious sleeper lay between them and the fire. His form cast ashadow over the sward. Into this they crept, with the view of betterconcealment, and proceeded on. 

At length the mulatto arrived within three feet of the prostrate body;and gathering himself, he rose upon his knees with the intention ofmaking a spring forward. The sudden erection of his body brought hisface full into the light, and rendered it a conspicuous object. Histime was come. 

The whip-like crack of a rifle was heard, and at the same instant astream of fire shot out from the leafy top of a live-oak that stood nearthe entrance of the avenue. The mulatto suddenly sprang to his feet, threw out his arms with a wild cry, staggered a pace or two, and, dropping both knife and gun, fell forward into the fire!

The zambo also leaped to his feet; and, believing the shot had come fromthe pretended sleeper, precipitated himself upon the latter, knife inhand, and drove his blade with desperate earnestness into the side ofthe prostrate form. 

Almost on the instant he leaped back with a yell of terror; and, withoutstopping to assist his fallen comrade, rushed off over the glade, anddisappeared into the underwood. The figure by the fire remainedprostrate and motionless. 

But at this moment a dark form was seen to descend through the branchesof the live-oak whence the shot had come; a shrill whistle rang throughthe glade; and the steed, dragging his lazo, galloped up under the tree. 

A man, half-naked, and carrying a long rifle, dropped upon the horse'sback; and the next instant both horse and man disappeared through theavenue, having gone off at full speed in the direction of the plain!

CHAPTER SIXTY. 

Who was he then who lay by the fire? Not Carlos the cibolero! It washis manga--his botas--his hat and spurs--his complete habiliments!

True, but Carlos was not in them. He it was who, half-naked, haddropped from the tree, and galloped off upon the horse! A mystery!

Less than two hours before we left him where he had arrived--upon theedge of the grove. How had he been employed since then? A knowledge ofthat will explain the mystery. 

On reaching the grove he had ridden direct through the avenue and intothe glade, where he reined up his horse and dismounted. Cibolo wasgently laid upon the soft grass, with a kind expression; but his woundsremained undressed for the present. His master had no time for that. He had other work to do, which would occupy him for the next hour. 

With a slack bridle his horse was left to refresh himself on the sward, while Carlos proceeded to the execution of a design that had beenmatured in his mind during his long gallop. 

His first act was to make a fire. The night had grown chill enough togive excuse for one. It was kindled near the centre of the glade. Drylogs and branches were found among the underwood, and these were broughtforward and heaped upon the pile, until the flames blazed up, illumingthe glade to its very circumference. The huge pitahayas, gleaming inthe red light, looked like columns of stone; and upon these the eyes ofthe cibolero were now turned. 

Proceeding towards them, knife in hand, he commenced cutting through thestem of the largest, and its tall form was soon laid prostrate upon thegrass. When down, he hewed both stem and branches into pieces ofvarious length, and then dragged them up to the side of the fire. Surely he did not mean to add them to the pile! These green succulentmasses would be more likely to subdue the flame than contribute to itsbrilliancy. 

Carlos had no such intention. On the contrary, he placed the piecesseveral feet from the fire, arranging them in such a manner as toimitate, as nearly as possible, the form and dimensions of a human body. Two cylindrical pieces served for the thighs, and two more for thearms, and these were laid in the attitude that would naturally beadopted by a person in repose or asleep. The superior shoulder wasrepresented by the "elbow" of the plant; and when the whole structurewas covered over with the ample "manga" of the cibolero, it assumed astriking resemblance to the body of a man lying upon his side!

The head, lower limbs, and feet, were yet wanting to complete thedesign--for it _was_ a design. These were soon supplied. A round clewof grass was formed; and this, placed at a small distance from theshoulders by means of a scarf and the cibolero's hat, was made to looklike the thing for which it was intended--a human head. The hat wasslouched over the ball of grass so as nearly to conceal it, and seemedas if so placed to keep the dew or the musquitos from the face of thesleeper!

The lower limbs and feet only remained to be counterfeited. With theseconsiderable pains had to be taken, since, being nearest to the fire--according to the way in which hunters habitually sleep--they would bemore exposed to observation than any other part. 

All these points had been already considered by the cibolero; and, therefore, without stopping for a moment he proceeded to finish hiswork. His leathern "botas" were pulled off, and adjusted at a slightangle to the thighs of pitahaya, and in such a way that the rim of theample cloak came down over their tops. The huge spurs were allowed toremain on the boots, and could be seen from a distance gleaming in theblaze of the fire. 

A few more touches and the counterfeit was complete. 

He that had made it now stepped back to the edge of the glade, and, passing around, examined it from different points. He appearedsatisfied. Indeed, no one would have taken the figure for anything butthat of a sleeping traveller who had lain down without taking off hisspurs. 

Carlos now returned to the fire, and uttering a low signal brought thehorse up to his hand. He led the animal some paces out, and tightenedthe bridle-rein by knotting it over the horn of the saddle. This thewell-trained steed knew to be a command for him to give over browsing, and stand still in that same place until released by the hand of hismaster, or by a well-known signal he had been taught to obey. The lazofastened to the bit-ring was next uncoiled. One end of the rope wascarried to the prostrate figure, and placed under the edge of the manga, as though the sleeper held it in his hand!

Once more the cibolero passed round the circumference of the glade, andsurveyed the grouping in the centre. Again he appeared satisfied; and, re-entering the thicket, he brought out a fresh armful of dry wood andflung it on the fire. 

He now raised his eyes, and appeared to scrutinise the trees that grewaround the glade. His gaze rested upon a large live-oak standing at theinner entrance of the avenue, and whose long horizontal limbs stretchedover the open ground. The top branches of this tree were coveredthickly with its evergreen frondage, and laced with vines and_tillandsia_ formed a shady canopy. Besides being the tallest tree, itwas the most ample and umbrageous--in fact, the patriarch of the grove. 

"'Twill do, " muttered Carlos, as he viewed it. "Thirty paces--aboutthat--just the range. They'll not enter by the avenue. No--no dangerof that; and if they did--but no--they'll come along the bank by thewillows--yes, sure to do so:--now for Cibolo. "

He glanced for a moment at the dog, that was still lying where he hadbeen placed. 

"Poor fellow! he has had it in earnest. He'll carry the marks of theircowardly knives for the rest of his days. Well--he may live long enoughto know that he has been avenged--yes! that may he. But what shall I dowith him?"

After considering a minute, he continued:--

"Carrambo! I lose time. There's a half-hour gone, and if they'vefollowed at all they'll be near by this time. Follow they can withtheir long-eared brute, and I hope he'll guide them true. What can I dowith Cibolo? If I tie him at the root of the tree, he'll lie quietenough, poor brute! But then, suppose they should come this way! Idon't imagine they will. I shouldn't if I were in their place; butsuppose they should, the dog would be seen, and might lead them tosuspect something wrong. They might take a fancy to glance up the tree, and then--No, no, it won't do--something else must be done with Cibolo. "

Here he approached the root of the live-oak, and looked inquiringly upamong its branches. 

After a moment he seemed to be satisfied with his scrutiny. He hadformed a new resolution. 

"It will do, " he muttered. "The dog can lie upon those vines. I'llplait them a little for him, and cover them with moss. "

Saying this, he caught hold of the lower limbs, and sprang up into thetree. 

After dragging down some of the creeping vines, he twined them betweenthe forks of a branch, so as to form a little platform. He next toreoff several bundles of the _tillandsia_, and placed it over the spotthus wattled. 

When the platform was completed to his satisfaction, he leaped downagain; and, taking the animal in his arms, carried him up to the tree, and placed him gently upon the moss, where the dog lay quietly down. 

To dispose of himself was the next consideration. That was a matter ofeasy accomplishment, and consisted in laying hold of his rifle, swinginghis body back into the tree, and seating himself firmly among thebranches. 

He now arranged himself with care upon his seat. One branch, a stoutone, supported his body, his feet rested upon another, while a thirdformed a stay for his arms. In a fork lay the barrel of his long rifle, the stock firmly grasped in his hands. 

He looked with care to this weapon. Of course it was already loaded, but, lest the night-dew might have damped the priming, he threw up thepan-cover, with his thumb-nail scraped out the powder, and then pouredin a fresh supply from his horn. This he adjusted with his picker, taking care that a portion of it should pass into the touch-hole, andcommunicate with the charge inside. The steel was then returned to itsplace, and the flint duly looked to. Its state of firmness was felt, its edge examined. Both appeared to be satisfactory, so the piece wasonce more brought to its rest in the fork of the branch. 

The cibolero was not the man to trust to blind chance. Like all of hiscalling, he believed in the wisdom of precautions. No wonder he adoptedthem so minutely in the present instance. The neglect of any one ofthem might be fatal to him. The flashing of that rifle might cost himhis life! No wonder he was particular about the set of his flint, andthe dryness of his powder. 

The position he occupied was well chosen. It gave him a view of thewhole glade, and no object as large as a cat could enter the openingwithout being seen by him. 

Silently he sat gazing around the circle of green shrubbery--silentlyand anxiously--for the space of nearly an hour. 

His patient vigil was at length rewarded. He saw the yellow face as itpeered from the underwood, and for a moment hesitated about firing at itthen. He had even taken sight upon it, when it was drawn back!

A little longer he waited--till the mulatto, rising to his knees, offered his face full in the blazing light. At that moment his fingerpressed the trigger, and his unerring bullet passed through the brain ofhis treacherous foeman!

CHAPTER SIXTY ONE. 

The zambo had disappeared in the underwood almost at the same instantthat Carlos had mounted and galloped out through the avenue. Not aliving creature remained in the glade. 

The huge body lay with arms outstretched, one of them actually acrossthe blazing pile! Its weight, pressing down the faggots, half-obscuredtheir light. Enough there was to exhibit the ghastly face mottled withwashes of crimson. There was no motion in either body or limbs--no morethan in that of the counterfeit form that was near. Dead was the yellowhunter--dead! The hot flame that licked his arm, preparing to devourit, gave him no pain. Fire stirs not the dead!

Where were the others? They had gone off in directions nearly opposite!Were they flying from each other?

The zambo had gone back in the same direction whence he had come. Hehad gone in a very different manner though. After disappearing behindthe leafy screen, he had not halted, but rushed on like one terrifiedbeyond the power of controlling himself. The cracking of dead sticks, and the loud rustling among the bushes, told that he was pressingthrough the grove in headlong flight. These noises had ceased--so, too, the echo of hoofs which for a while came back from the galloping horseof the cibolero. 

Where were they now--zambo and cibolero? Had they fled from each other?It would have seemed so from the relative directions in which they hadgone. 

It was not so in reality. Whatever desire the zambo might have felt toget away from that spot, his antagonist had no such design. The latterhad galloped out of the glade, but not in flight. 

He knew the zambo well enough to tell that his courage was now gone. The sudden loss of his comrade, and under such mysterious circumstances, had terrified the black, and would paralyse him almost beyond the powerof resistance. He would think of nothing else but making his escape. Carlos knew that. 

The quick intellect of the latter had taught him whence his enemies hadcome--from the lower or southern side of the grove. He had, indeed, been loosing for them in that direction, and, while scrutinising theunderwood, had given most attention to that edge of the glade lying tothe south. He conjectured that they would deem this the safest way toapproach him, and his conjectures proved true. 

Their horses would be left at some distance off, lest the stroke oftheir hoofs might alarm him. This, too, was his conjecture, and a justone. Still another, also just, was that the zambo was now making forthe horses! This last occurred to Carlos as he saw the other rushingoff into the underwood. 

Just what the zambo was doing. Seeing his leader fall so mysteriously, he thought no longer of an encounter. Flight was his only impulse--toget back to the horses, mount and ride off, his one purpose. He hadhopes that Carlos would not hastily follow--that he might escape undercover of the darkness. 

He was mistaken. It was just to defeat this purpose that Carlos hadgalloped forth. He, too, was resolved to make for the horses!

Once in the open plain, he wheeled to the right, and rode round thegrove. On reaching a point where he could command a view of the riverhe reined up. His object in doing so was to reload his rifle. 

He threw the piece into a vertical position, at the same time gropingfor his powder-horn. To his surprise he could not get his hands uponit, and on looking down he saw that it was gone! The strap by which ithad been suspended was no longer over his shoulders. It had been caughtupon a branch, and lifted off as he had leaped from the tree!

Annoyed with this misfortune, he was about turning his horse to hurryback to the live-oak, when his eye fell upon a dark figure gliding overthe plain, and close in to the fringe of willows by the river. Ofcourse it was the fleeing zambo--there could be no doubt of that. 

Carlos hesitated. Should he return for the powder-horn, and then wastetime in reloading, the zambo might escape. He would soon reach thehorses, and mount. Had it been day Carlos could easily have overtakenhim, but not so under the night darkness. Five hundred yards' startwould have carried him safe out of sight. 

The cibolero was full of anxiety. He had ample reasons to wish thatthis man should die. Prudence as well as a natural feeling of revengeprompted this wish. The cowardly manner in which these hired ruffianshad dogged him had awakened his vengeance. Besides, while either lived, the outlaw knew he would have a dangerous enemy. The zambo must notescape!

It was but for a moment that Carlos hesitated. Should he wait to reloadhis rifle the other would get off. This reflection decided him. Hedropped the piece to the ground, turned his horse's head, and shotrapidly across the plain in the direction of the river. In a dozenseconds he reined up in front of his skulking foe. 

The latter, seeing himself cut off from the horses, halted and stood atbay, as if determined to fight. But before Carlos could dismount toclose with him, his heart once more gave way; and, breaking through thewillows, he plunged into the river. 

Carlos had not calculated upon this. He stood for some moments in astate of surprise and dismay. Would the fiend escape him? He had cometo the ground. Whether should he mount again or follow on foot?

He was not long irresolute. He chose the latter course, and, rushingthrough the willows where the other had passed, he paused a moment onthe edge of the stream. Just then his enemy emerged upon the oppositebank, and, without a moment's halt, started off in full run across theplain. Again Carlos thought of following on horseback, but the bankswere high, --a horse might find it difficult to ford at such a place, --perhaps impossible. There was no time to be lost in experiments. 

"Surely, " thought Carlos, "I am swift as he. For a trial then!"

And as he uttered the words he flung himself broad upon the water. 

A few strokes carried him across the stream; and, climbing out on theopposite bank, he sprang after his retreating foe. 

The zambo had by this time got full two hundred yards in the advance, but before he had run two hundred more, there was not half that distancebetween them. There was no comparison in their speed. Carlos fairlydoubled upon his terrified antagonist, although the latter was doing hisutmost. He knew that he was running for his life. 

Not ten minutes did the chase continue. 

Carlos drew near. The zambo heard his footsteps close behind. He feltit was idle to run any longer. He halted, and once more stood at bay. 

In another instant the two were face to face, within ten feet of eachother!

Both were armed with large knives--their only weapons--and, dim as thelight was, the blades of these could be seen glittering in the air. 

The foes scarce waited to breathe themselves. A few angry exclamationspassed between them; and then, rushing upon each other, they clutched inearnest conflict!

It was a short conflict. A dozen seconds would have covered its wholeduration. For a while, the bodies of the combatants seemed turnedaround each other, and one of them fell heavily upon the plain. A groanwas uttered. It was in the voice of the zambo. It was he who hadfallen!

The prostrate form wriggled for a moment over the ground--it half roseand fell again--then writhed for a few seconds longer, and then laystill in death!

The cibolero bent over it to be assured of this. Death was written uponthe hideous face. The marks were unmistakeable. The victor no longerdoubted; and, turning away from the corpse, he walked back towards theriver. 

Having regained his rifle and powder-horn, and reloaded his gun, Carlosnow proceeded to search for the horses. 

These were soon found. A bullet was sent through the head of thebloodhound, and another through that of his more wolf-like companion, and the horses were then untied and set free. 

This done, Carlos once more returned to the glade, and, after liftingCibolo down from his perch, he approached the fire, and gazed for amoment at the corpse of the yellow hunter. The fires were blazing morebrightly than ever. These were fed by human flesh!

Turning in disgust from the sight, the cibolero collected his garments, and, once more mounting into the saddle, rode off in the direction ofthe ravine. 

CHAPTER SIXTY TWO. 

Three days had elapsed from the time that the yellow hunter and hiscompanion had started on their expedition. Those who sent them werebeginning to grow impatient for some news of them. They did not allowthemselves to doubt of the zeal of their employes, --the reward wouldsecure that, --and scarce did they doubt of their success. The latterseemed to all three--Roblado, Vizcarra, and the Padre--but a consequenceof the former. Still they were impatient for some report from thehunters--if not of the actual capture, at least that the outlaw had beenseen, or that they were upon his trail. 

On reflection, however, both Padre and officers saw that it would not belikely they should have any report before the hunters themselves cameback, either with or without their captive. 

"No doubt, " suggested the monk, "they are after him every hour, and weshall hear nothing of them until they have laid hands upon the hereticrascal. "

What a startling piece of news it was to this charming trio, when a_hatero_ brought the information to the settlement that he had seen twodead bodies upon the plain, which he recognised as those of the Missionhunters--Manuel and Pepe. 

His report was that he had seen them near a grove upon the Pecos, --thatthey were torn by the wolves and vultures--but that what still remainedof their dress and equipments enabled him to make out who they were--forthe hatero had chanced to know these men personally. He was sure theywere the mulatto and Zambo, the hunters of the mission. 

At first this "mysterious murder, " as it was termed, could not beexplained--except upon the supposition that the "Indios bravos" had doneit. The people knew nothing of the duty upon which the hunters had beenlately employed. Both were well enough known, though but little noticewas taken of their movements, which lay generally beyond the observationof the citizen community. It was supposed they had been out upon one oftheir usual hunts, and had fallen in with a roving band of savages. 

A party of dragoons, guided by the hatero, proceeded to the grove; andthese returned with a very different version of the story. 

They had ascertained beyond a doubt that both the hunters had beenkilled, not by Indian arrows, but by the weapons of a white man. Furthermore, their horses had been left, while their dogs had beenkilled--the skeletons of the latter were found lying upon the bank ofthe river. 

It could not have been Indians, then. They would have carried off theanimals, both dogs and horses, and, moreover, would have stripped thedead of their equipments, which were of some value. Indians? No. 

There was not much difficulty in deciding who had committed this murder. Where the skeletons of the dogs were found the ground was soft, andthere were hoof-tracks that did not belong to the horses of the hunters. These were recognised by several. They were the tracks of thewell-known horse of Carlos the cibolero. 

Beyond a doubt Carlos had done the deed. It was known that he and theyellow hunter had not been on friendly terms, but the contrary. Theyhad met and quarrelled, then; or, what was more likely, Carlos had foundthe hunters asleep by their camp-fire, had stolen upon them, and thuseffected his purpose. The mulatto had been shot dead at once, and hadfallen into the fire, for part of the body was consumed to a cinder!His companion, attempting to make his escape, had been pursued andovertaken by the bloodthirsty outlaw!

New execrations were heaped upon the head of the devoted Carlos. Mencrossed themselves and uttered either a prayer or a curse at the mentionof his name; and mothers made use of it to fright their children intogood behaviour. The name of Carlos the cibolero spread more terror thanthe rumour of an Indian invasion!

The belief in the supernatural became strengthened. Scarce any one nowdoubted that the cibolero's mother was a witch, or that all these deedsperformed by her son were the result of her aid and inspiration. 

There was not the slightest hope that he would either be captured orkilled. How could he? Who could bind the devil and bring him topunishment? No one any longer believed that he could be caught. 

Some gravely proposed that his mother--the witch should be taken up andburnt. Until that was done, argued they, he would set all pursuit atdefiance; but if she were put out of the world, the murderer might thenbe brought to justice!

It is probable enough that the counsels of these and they were themajority of the inhabitants--would have prevailed; especially as theywere openly approved of by the padres of the mission; but before thepublic mind became quite ripe for such a violent sacrifice, an eventoccurred which completely changed the currant of affairs. 

It was on the morning of a Sunday, and the people were just coming outof the church, when a horseman, covered with sweat and dust, gallopedinto the Plaza. His habiliments were those of a sergeant of dragoons;and all easily recognised the well-known lineaments of the sergeantGomez. 

In a few minutes he was surrounded by a crowd of idlers, who, althoughit was Sunday, were heard a few moments after breaking out into loudacclamations of joy. Hats were uptossed and _vivas_ rent the air!

What news had Gomez announced? A rare bit of news--_the capture of theoutlaw_! It was true. Carlos had been taken, and was now a prisoner inthe hands of the soldiers. He had been captured neither by strength norstratagem. Treachery had done the work. He had been betrayed by one ofhis own people. 

It was thus his capture had been effected. Despairing for the presentof being able to communicate with Catalina, he had formed the resolutionto remove his mother and sister from the valley. He had prepared atemporary home for them far off in the wilderness, where they would besecure from his enemies, while he himself could return at a betteropportunity. 

To effect their removal, watched as they were, he knew would be no easymatter. But he had taken his measures, and would have succeeded had itnot been for treason. One of his own people--a peon who had accompaniedhim in his last expedition--betrayed him to his vigilant foes. 

Carlos was within the rancho making a few hasty preparations for thejourney. He had left his horse hidden some distance off in thechapparal. Unfortunately for him Cibolo was not there. The faithfuldog had been laid up since his late encounter at the cave. To a peonhad been assigned the duty that would otherwise have been intrusted tohim--that of keeping watch without. 

This wretch had been previously bought by Roblado and Vizcarra. Theresult was, that, instead of acting as sentinel for his master, hehastened to warn his enemies. The rancho was surrounded by a troop;and, although several of his assailants were killed by the hand ofCarlos, he himself was finally overpowered and taken. 

Gomez had not been five minutes in the Plaza when a bugle was heardsounding the advance of a troop, which the next moment defiled into theopen square. Near its middle was the prisoner, securely tied upon theback of a saddle-mule, and guarded by a double file of troopers. 

An arrival of such interest was soon known, and the Plaza became filledwith a crowd eager to gratify its curiosity by a sight of the notoriouscibolero. 

But he was not the only one upon whom the people gazed with curiosity. There were two other prisoners--one of whom was regarded with aninterest equal to that felt at the sight of the outlaw himself. Thisprisoner was his mother. Upon her the eyes of the multitude turned withan expression of awe mingled with indignation; while jeering and angrycries hailed her as she passed on her way to the _Calabozo_. 

"_Muera la hechicera! muera_!" (Death to the witch--let her die!) brokefrom ruffian lips as she was carried along. 

Even the dishevelled hair and weeping eyes of her young companion--herdaughter--failed to touch the hearts of that fanatical mob, and therewere some who cried, "_Mueran las dos! madre y hija_!" (Let both die--mother and daughter!)

The guards had even to protect them from rude assault, as they werethrust hastily within the door of the prison!

Fortunately Carlos saw nought of this. _He was not even aware that theywere prisoners_! He thought, perhaps, they had been left unmolested inthe rancho, and that the vengeance of his enemies extended no fartherthan to himself. He knew not the fiendish designs of his persecutors. 

CHAPTER SIXTY THREE. 

The female prisoners remained in the Calabozo. Carlos, for bettersecurity, was carried on to the Presidio, and placed in the prison ofthe guard-house. 

That night he received a visit. The Comandante and Roblado could notrestrain their dastard spirits from indulging in the luxury of revenge. Having emptied their wine-cups, they, with a party of boon companions, entered the guard prison, and amused themselves by taunting the chainedcaptive. Every insult was put upon him by his half-drunken visitors--every rudeness their ingenuity could devise. 

For long all this was submitted to in silence. A coarse jest fromVizcarra at length provoked reply. The reply alluded to the changedfeatures of the latter, which so exasperated the brute, that he dashed, dagger in hand, upon the bound victim, and would have taken his life, but that Roblado and others held him back! He was only prevented fromkilling Carlos by his companions declaring that such a proceeding wouldrob them of their anticipated sport! This consideration alonerestrained him; but he was not contented until with his fists he hadinflicted several blows upon the face of the defenceless captive!

"Let the wretch live!" said Roblado. "To-morrow we shall have a finespectacle for him!"

With this the inebriated gang staggered out, leaving the prisoner toreflect upon this promised "spectacle. "

He did reflect upon it. That he was to be made a spectacle heunderstood well enough. He had no hopes of mercy, either from civil ormilitary judges. His death was to be the spectacle. All night long hissoul was tortured with painful thoughts, not of himself, but about thosefar dearer to him than his own life. 

Morning glanced through the narrow loophole of his gloomy cell. Nothingelse--nought to eat, to drink--no word of consolation--no kind look fromhis ruffian gaolers. No friend to make inquiry about him--no sign thata single heart on earth cared for him. 

Midday arrived. He was taken, or rather dragged, from his prison. Troops formed around, and carried him off. Where was he going? Toexecution?

His eyes were free. He saw himself taken to the town, and through thePlaza. There was an unusual concourse of people. The square was nearlyfilled, and the azoteas that commanded a view of it. All theinhabitants of the settlement seemed to be present in the town. Therewere haciendados, rancheros, miners, and all. Why? Some grand eventmust have brought them together. They had the air of people whoexpected to witness an unusual scene. Perhaps the "spectacle" promisedby Roblado! But what could that be? Did they intend to torture him inpresence of the multitude? Such was not improbable. 

The crowd jeered him as he passed. He was carried through their midst, and thrust into the Calabozo. 

A rude _banqueta_ along one side of his cell offered a resting-place. On this the wretched man sank down into a lying posture. The fasteningson his arms and legs would not allow him to sit upright. 

He was left alone. The soldiers who had conducted him went out, turningthe key behind them. Their voices and the clink of their scabbards toldhim that some of them still remained by the door. Two of them had beenleft there as sentinels. The others sauntered off, and mingled with thecrowd of civilians that filled the Plaza. 

Carlos lay for some minutes without motion--almost without thought. Hissoul was overwhelmed with misery. For the first time in his life hefelt himself yielding to despair. 

The feeling was evanescent; and once more he began to reflect--not tohope--no! Hope, they say dies but with life: but that is a paradox. Hestill lived, but hope had died. Hope of escape there was none. He wastoo well guarded. His exasperated enemies, having experienced thedifficulty of his capture, were not likely to leave him the slightestchance of escape. Hope of pardon--of mercy--it never entered histhoughts to entertain either. 

But reflection returned. 

It is natural for a captive to glance around the walls of his prison--toassure himself that he is really a prisoner. It is his first act whenthe bolt shoots from the lock, and he feels himself alone. Obedient tothis impulse, the eye of Carlos was raised to the walls, his cell wasnot a dungeon--a small window, or embrasure, admitted light. It washigh up, but Carlos saw that, by standing upon the banqueta, he couldhave looked out by it. He had no curiosity to do so, and he lay still. He saw that the walls of his prison were not of stone. They were_adobe_ bricks, and the embrasure enabled him to tell their thickness. There was no great strength in them either. A determined man, with anedge-tool and time to spare, could make his way through them easilyenough. So Carlos reflected: but he reflected, as well, that he hadneither the edge-tool nor the time. He was certain that in a fewhours--perhaps minutes--he would be led from that prison to thescaffold. 

Oh! he feared not death--not even torture, which he anticipated would behis lot. His torture was the thought of eternal separation from mother, sister, from the proud noble girl he loved--the thought that he wouldnever again behold them--one or other of them--this was the torture thatmaddened his soul. 

Could he not communicate with them? Had he no friend to carry to them alast word?--to convey a dying thought? None. 

The sunbeam that slanted across the cell was cut off at intervals, andthe room darkened. Something half covered the embrasure without. Itwas the face of some idle lepero, who, curious to catch a glimpse of thecaptive, had caused himself to be hoisted upon the shoulders of hisfellows. The embrasure was above the heads of the crowd. Carlos couldhear their brutal jests, directed not only against himself, but againstthose dear to him--his mother and sister. While this pained him, hebegan to wonder that they should be so much the subject of theconversation. He could not tell what was said of them, but in the humof voices their names repeatedly reached his ear. He had lain about anhour on the banqueta, when the door opened, and the two officers, Vizcarra and Roblado, stepped within the cell. They were accompanied byGomez. 

The prisoner believed that his hour was come. They were going to leadhim forth to execution. He was wrong. That was not their design. Fardifferent. They had come to gloat over his misery. Their visit was tobe a short one. "Now, my brave!" began Roblado. "We promised you aspectacle to-day. We are men of our word. We come to admonish you thatit is prepared, and about to come off. Mount upon that banqueta, andlook out into the Plaza; you will have an excellent view of it; and asit is near you will need no glass! Up then! and don't lose time. Youwill see what you will see. Ha! ha! ha!"

And the speaker broke into a hoarse laugh, in which the Comandante aswell as the sergeant joined; and then all three, without waiting for areply, turned and went out, ordering the door to be locked behind them. 

The visit, as well as Roblado's speech, astonished and puzzled Carlos. For some minutes he sat reflecting upon it. What could it mean? A_spectacle_, and he to be a _spectator_? What spectacle but that of hisown execution? What could it mean?

For a time he sat endeavouring to make out the sense of Roblado's words. For a good while he pondered over the speech, until at length he hadfound, or thought he had found, the key to its meaning. 

"Ha!" muttered he; "Don Juan--it is he! My poor friend! They havecondemned him, too; and he is to die before me. That is what I amcalled upon to witness. Fiends! I shall not gratify them by looking atit. No! I shall remain where I am. "

He threw himself once more prostrate along the banqueta, determined toremain in that position. He muttered at intervals:--

"Poor Don Juan!--a true friend--to death--ay, even to death, for it isfor me he dies--for me, and--oh! love--love--"

His reflections were brought to a sudden termination. The window wasdarkened by a face, and a rough voice called in:--

"Hola! Carlos, you butcher of buffaloes! look forth! _Carajo_! here'sa sight for you! Look at your old witch of a mother! What a figure shecuts! Ha! ha!"

The sting of a poisonous reptile--a blow from an enemy--could not haveroused Carlos more rapidly from his prostrate attitude. As he sprang toan upright position, the fastenings upon his ankles were forgotten; and, after staggering half across the floor, he came down upon his knees. 

A second effort was made with more caution, and this time he succeededin keeping his feet. A few moments sufficed for him to work himself upto the banqueta; and, having mounted this, he applied his face to theembrasure and looked forth. 

His eyes rested upon a scene that caused the blood to curdle in hisveins, and started the sweat in bead-drops over his forehead. A scenethat filled his heart with horror, that caused him to feel as if somehand was clutching and compressing it between fingers of iron!

CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR. 

The Plaza was partially cleared--the open space guarded by lines ofsoldiers. The crowds, closely packed, stood along the sides of thehouses, or filled the balconies and azoteas. The officers, alcalde, magistrates, and principal men of the town, were grouped near the centreof the Plaza. Most of these wore official costumes, and, under othercircumstances, the eyes of the crowd would have been upon _them_. Notso now. There was a group more attractive than they--a group upon whichevery eye was gazing with intense interest. 

This group occupied a corner of the Plaza in front of the Calabozo, directly in front of the window from which Carlos looked out. It wasthe first thing upon which his eyes rested. He saw no more--he saw notthe crowd, nor the line of soldiers that penned it back--he saw not thegaudy gentry in the square; he saw only that group of beings before him. That was enough to keep his eyes from wandering. 

The group was thus composed. There were two asses--small shaggy brownanimals, --caparisoned in a covering of coarse black serge, that hungnearly to their feet. Each had a coarse hair halter held in the hand ofa lepero driver, also fantastically dressed in the same black stuff. Behind each stood a lepero similarly attired, and carrying "cuartos" ofbuffalo-skin. By the side of each ass was one of the padres of themission, and each of these held in his hand the implements of histrade--book, rosary, and crucifix. The priests wore an official look. They were in the act of officiating. At what? Listen!

The asses were mounted. On the back of each was a form--a human form. These sat not freely, but in constrained attitudes. The feet were drawnunderneath by cords passed around the ankles; and to a sort of woodenyoke around the necks of the animals the hands of the riders were tied--so as to bring their backs into a slanting position. In this way theirheads hung down, and their faces, turned to the wall, could not yet beseen by the crowd. 

Both were nude to the waist, and below it. The eye needed but oneglance at those forms to tell they were women! The long loose hair--inthe one grey, in the other golden--shrouding their cheeks, and hangingover the necks of the animals, was further proof of this. For one itwas not needed. The outlines were those of a Venus. A sculptor's eyecould not have detected a fault. In the form of the other, age hadtraced its marks. It was furrowed, angled, lean, and harsh to the eyeof the observer. 

Oh, God! what a sight for the eye of Carlos the cibolero! Thoseinvoluntary riders _were his mother and sister_!

And just at that moment his eye rested upon them--ay, and recognisedthem at a glance. An arrow passing through his heart could not haveinflicted keener pain. A sharp, half-stifled scream escaped his lips--the only sign of suffering the ear might detect. He was silent fromthat moment. His hard quick breathing alone told that he lived. He didnot faint or fall. He did not retreat from the window. He stood like astatue in the position he had first taken, hugging the wall with hisbreast, to steady himself. His eyes remained fixed on the group, andfixed too in their sockets, as if glued there!

Roblado and Vizcarra, in the centre of the square, enjoyed theirtriumph. They saw him at the embrasure. He saw not them. He had forthe moment forgotten that they existed. 

At a signal the bell rang in the tower of the parroquia, and thenceased. This was the cue for commencing the horrid ceremony. 

The black drivers led their animals from the wall, and, heading them ina direction parallel to one side of the Plaza, stood still. The facesof the women were now turned partially to the crowd, but theirdishevelled hair sufficiently concealed them. The padres approached. Each selected one. They mumbled a few unintelligible phrases in theears of their victims, flourished the crucifix before their faces, andthen, retiring a step, muttered some directions to the two ruffians inthe rear. 

These with ready alacrity took up their cue, gathered the thick ends oftheir cuartos around their wrists, and plied the lash upon the nakedhacks of the women. The strokes were deliberate and measured--they werecounted! Each seemed to leave its separate weal upon the skin. Uponthe younger female they were more conspicuous--not that they had beendelivered with greater severity, but upon the softer, whiter, and moretender skin, the purple lines appeared plainer by contrast. 

Strange that neither cried out. The girl writhed, and uttered a lowwhimpering, but no scream escaped her lips. As for the old woman, sheremained quite motionless--no sign told that she suffered!

When ten lashes each had been administered, a voice from the centre ofthe Plaza cried out--

"_Basta por la nina_!" (Enough for the girl. )

The crowd echoed this; and he, whose office it was to flog the youngerfemale, rolled up his cuarto and desisted. The other went on untiltwenty-five lashes were told off. 

A band of music now struck up. The asses were d along the side of thesquare, and halted at the next corner. 

The music stopped. The padres again went through their mumblingceremony. The executioners performed their part--only one of them thistime--as by the voice of the crowd the younger female was spared thelash, though she was still kept in her degraded and shameful position. 

The full measure of twenty-five stripes was administered to the other, and then again the music, and the procession moved on to the third angleof the Plaza. Here the horrid torture was repeated, and again at thefourth and last corner of the square, where the hundred lashes--the fullnumber decreed as the punishment--were completed. 

The ceremony was over. The crowd gathered around the victims--who, nowreleased from official keeping, were left to themselves. 

The feeling of the crowd was curiosity, not sympathy. Notwithstandingall that had passed before their eyes, there was but little sympathy inthe hearts of that rabble. 

Fanaticism is stronger than pity; and who cared for the witch and theheretic?

Yes--there were some who cared yet. There were hands that unbound thecords, and chafed the brows of the sufferers, and flung rebosos overtheir shoulders and poured water into the lips of those silent victims--silent, for both had fainted!

A rude carreta was there. How it came there no one knew or cared. Itwas getting dusk, and people, having satisfied their curiosity, andhungry from long fasting, were falling off to their homes. The brawnydriver of the carreta, directed by a young girl, and aided by two orthree dusky Indians, lifted the sufferers into his vehicle, and then, mounting himself, drove off; while the young girl, and two or three whohad assisted him, followed the vehicle. 

It cleared the suburbs, and, striking into a byroad that traversed thechapparal, arrived at a lone rancho, the same where Rosita had beentaken before--for it was Josefa who again carried her away. 

The sufferers were taken inside the house. It was soon perceived thatone no longer suffered. The daughter was restored to consciousness, only to see that that of her mother had for ever fled!

Her temples were chafed--her lips moistened--her hand pressed in vain. The wild utterance of a daughter's grief fell unheard upon her ears. Death had carried her spirit to another world. 

CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE. 

From the embrasure of his prison Carlos looked upon the terriblespectacle. We have said that he regarded it in silence. Not exactlyso. Now and then, as the blood-stained lash fell heavier than usual, alow groan escaped him--the involuntary utterance of agony extreme. 

His looks more than his voice betrayed the fearful fire that was burningwithin. Those who by chance or curiosity glanced into the embrasurewere appalled by the expression of that face. Its muscles were rigidand swollen, the eyes were fixed and ringed with purple, the teethfirmly set, the lips drawn tight over them, and large sweat-dropsglistened upon the forehead. No red showed upon the cheeks, nor anypart of the face--not a trace to tell that blood circulated there. Paleas death was that face, and motionless as marble. 

From his position Carlos could see but two angles of the Plaza--thatwhere the cruel scene had its commencement, and that where the secondportion was administered. The procession then passed out of sight; butthough his eyes were no longer tortured by the horrid spectacle, therewas but little relief in that. He knew it continued all the same. 

He remained no longer by the window. A resolve carried him from it, --the resolve of self-destruction!

His agony was complete. He could endure it no longer. Death wouldrelieve him, and upon death he was determined. 

But how to die?

He had no weapon; and even if he had, pinioned as he was, he could nothave used it. 

But one mode seemed possible--to dash his head against the wall!

A glance at the soft mason-work of _adobes_ convinced him that thiswould not effect his purpose. By such an effort he might stun, but notkill himself. He would wake again to horrid life. 

His eyes swept the cell in search of some mode of self-destruction. 

A beam traversed the apartment. It was high enough to hang the tallestman. With his hands free, and a cord in them, it would do. There wascord enough on them for the purpose, for they were bound by severalvaras of a raw-hide thong. 

To the fastenings his attention was now directed; when, to his surpriseand delight, he perceived that the thong had become slack and loose!The hot sweat, pouring from his hands and wrists, had saturated theraw-hide, causing it to melt and yield; and his desperate exertions, made mechanically under the influence of agony and half-madness, hadstretched it for inches! A slight examination of the fasteningsconvinced him of the possibility of his undoing them; and to this heapplied himself with all the strength find energy of a desperate man. Had his hands been tied in front, he might have used his teeth in theendeavour to set them free; but they were bound fast together across hisback. He pulled and wrenched them with all his strength. 

If there is a people in the world who understand better than any otherthe use of ropes or thongs, that people is the Spanish-American. TheIndian must yield to them in this knowledge, and even the habile sailormakes but a clumsy knot in comparison. No people so well understand howto bind a captive _without iron_, and the captive outlaw had been tiedto perfection. 

But neither ropes of hemp nor hide will secure a man of superiorstrength and resolution. Give such an one but time to operate, and hewill be certain to free himself. Carlos knew that he needed but time. 

The effect produced by the moistening of the raw-hide was such, thatshort time sufficed. In less than ten minutes it slipped from hiswrists, and his hands were free!

He drew the thong through his fingers to clear it of loops and snarls. He fashioned one end into a noose; and, mounting upon the banqueta, knotted the other over the beam. He then placed the noose around hisnaked threat--calculating the height at which it should hang when drawntaut by the weight of his body! and, placing himself on the elevatededge of the banqueta, he was prepared to spring out--

"Let me look on them once more before I die--poor victims!--once more!"

The position he occupied was nearly in front of the embrasure, and hehad only to lean a little to one side to get a view of the Plaza. Hedid so. 

He could not see them; but he saw that the attention of the crowd wasdirected towards that angle of the square adjacent to the Calabozo. Thehorrid ceremony would soon be over. Perhaps they would then be carriedwithin sight. He would wait for the moment, it would be his last--

"Ha! what is that? Oh God: it is--"

He heard the "weep" of the keen cuarto as it cut the air. He thought, or fancied, he heard a low moan. The silence of the crowd enabled himto distinguish the slightest sounds. 

"God of mercy, is there no mercy? God of vengeance, hear me! Ha!vengeance! what am I dreaming of, suicidal fool? What! my hands free--can I not break the door? the lock? I can but die upon their weapons!and maybe--"

He had flung the noose from his neck, and was about to turn away fromthe window, when a heavy object struck him on the forehead, almoststunning him with the blow!

At first he thought it was a stone from the hand of some ruffianwithout; but the object, in falling upon the banqueta, gave out a dullmetallic clink. He looked down, and in the dim light could make outthat the thing which had struck him was of an oblong shape. He benthastily forward, and clutched it. 

It was a parcel, wrapped in a piece of silken scarf and tied securely. The string was soon unfastened, and the contents of the parcel held upto the light. These were a roleau of gold onzas, a long-bladed knife, and a folded sheet of paper!

The last occupied his attention first. The sun was down, and the lightdeclining, but in front of the window there was still enough to enablehim to read he opened the paper and read:--

"_Your time is fixed for to-morrow. I cannot learn whether you will bekept where you are all night, or be taken back to the Presidio. If youremain in the Calabozo, well. I send you two weapons. Use which youplease, or both. The walls can be pierced. There will be one outsidewho will conduct you safe. Should you be taken to the Presidio, youmust endeavour to escape on the way, or there is no hope. I need notrecommend courage and resolution to you--the personification of both. Make for the rancho of Josefa. There you will find one who is now readyto share your perils and your liberty. Adieu! my soul's hero, adieu_!"

No name appeared. But Carlos needed none--he well knew who was thewriter of that note. 

"Brave, noble girl!" he muttered as he concealed the paper under thebreast of his hunting-shirt; "the thought of living for you fills mewith fresh hope--gives me new nerve for the struggle. If I die, it willnot be by the hands of the _garrotero_. No, my hands are free. Theyshall not be bound again while life remains. I shall yield only todeath itself. "

As the captive muttered these thoughts he sat down upon the banqueta, and hurriedly untied the thongs that up to this time had remained uponhis ankles. This done, he rose to his feet again; and, with the longknife firmly clutched, strode up and down the cell, glancing fiercelytowards the door at each turning. He had resolved to run the gauntletof his guards, and by his manner it was evident he had made up his mindto attack the first of them that entered. 

For several minutes he paced his cell, like a tiger within its cage. 

At length a thought seemed to suggest itself that caused a change in hismanner, sudden and decided. He gathered up the thongs just cast off;and seating himself upon the banqueta, once more wound them around hisankles--but this time in such a fashion, that a single jerk upon acunningly-contrived knot would set all free. The knife was hidden underhis hunting-shirt, where the purse had been already deposited. Last ofall, he unloosed the raw-hide rope from the beam, and, meeting his handsbehind him, whipped it around both wrists, until they had the appearanceof being securely spliced. He then assumed a reclining attitude alongthe banqueta, with his face turned towards the door, and remainedmotionless as though he were asleep!

CHAPTER SIXTY SIX. 

In our land of cold impulses--of love calculating and interested--wecannot understand, and scarcely credit, the deeds of reckless daringthat in other climes have their origin in that strong passion. 

Among Spanish women love often attains a strength and sublimity utterlyunfelt and unknown to nations who mix it up with their merchandise. With those highly-developed dames it often becomes a true passion--unselfish, headlong, intense--usurping the place of every other, andfilling the measure of the soul. Filial affection--domestic ties--moraland social duty--must yield. Love triumphs over all. 

Of such a nature--of such intensity--was the love that burned in theheart of Catalina de Cruces. 

Filial affection had been weighed against it; rank, fortune, and manyother considerations, had been thrown into the scale. Love out-balancedthem all; and, obedient to its impulse, she had resolved to fling allthe rest behind her. 

It was nearing the hour of midnight, and the mansion of Don Ambrosio wasdark and silent. Its master was not at home. A grand banquet had beenprovided at the Presidio by Vizcarra and Roblado, to which all thegrandees of the settlement had been invited. Don Ambrosio was among thenumber. At this hour he was at the Presidio, feasting and making merry. 

It was not a ladies' festival, therefore Catalina was not there. Itwas, indeed, rather an extemporised affair--a sort of jubilee to wind upthe performances of the day. The officers and priests were in highspirits, and had put their heads together in getting up the improvisedbanquet. 

The town had become silent, and the mansion of Don Ambrosio showed not asign of life. The portero still lingered by the great gate, waiting hismaster's return; but he sat inside upon the banqueta of the zaguan, andseemed to be asleep. 

He was watched by those who wished him to sleep on. 

The large door of the _caballeriza_ was open. Within the framework ofthe posts and lintels the form of a man could be distinguished. It wasthe groom Andres. 

There was no light in the stable. Had there been so, four horses mighthave been seen standing in their stalls, saddled and bridled. A stillstranger circumstance might have been observed--around the hoofs of eachhorse were wrapped pieces of coarse woollen cloth, that were drawn upand fastened around the ankles! There was some design in this. 

The door of the caballeriza was not visible from the zaguan; but atintervals the figure within the stable came forth, and, skulking along, peeped around the angle of the wall. The portero was evidently theobject of his scrutiny. Having listened a while, the figure againreturned to its place in the dark doorway, and stood as before. 

Up to a certain time a tiny ray of light could be detected stealingthrough the curtains of a chamber-door--the chamber of the senorita. All at once the light silently disappeared; but a few moments after, thedoor opened noiselessly. A female figure glided softly forth, andturned along under the shadow of the wall, in the direction of thecaballeriza. On reaching the open doorway she stopped, and called in alow voice--

"Andres!"

"_Aqui, Senorita_!" answered the groom, stepping a little more into thelight. 

"All saddled?"

"Si, Senorita. "

"You have muffled their hoofs?"

"Every one, Senorita. "

"Oh! what shall we do with him, " continued the lady in a tone ofdistress, and pointing toward the zaguan. "We shall not be able to passout before papa returns, and then it may be too late. _Santisima_!"

"Senorita, why not serve the portero as I have done the girl? I'mstrong enough for that. "

"Oh, Vicenza! how have you secured her?"

"In the garden-house, --tied, gagged, and locked up. I warrant she'llnot turn up till somebody finds her. No fear of her, Senorita. I'll dothe same for the portero, if you but say the word. "

"No--no--no! who would open the gate for papa? No--no--no! it would notdo. " She reflected. "And yet, if he gets out before the horses areready, they will soon miss--pursue--overtake him. He _will_ get out, Iam sure of it. How long would it occupy him? not long. He will easilyundo his cord fastenings. I know that--he once said he could. Oh, holyVirgin! he may now be free, and waiting for me! I must haste--theportero--Ha!"

As she uttered this exclamation she turned suddenly to Andres. A newplan seemed to have suggested itself. 

"Andres! good Andres! listen! We shall manage it yet!"

"Si, Senorita. "

"Thus, then. Lead the horses out the back way, through the garden--canyou swim them across the stream?"

"Nothing easier, my lady. "

"Good! Through the garden take them then. Stay!"

At this she cast her eyes toward the entrance of the long alley leadingto the garden, which was directly opposite to, and visible from, thezaguan. Unless the portero were asleep, he could not fail to see fourhorses passing out in that way--dark as was the night. Here, then, anew difficulty presented itself. 

Suddenly starting, she seemed to have thought of a way to overcome it. 

"Andres, it will do. You go to the zaguan. See whether he be asleep. Go up boldly. If asleep, well; if not enter into conversation with him. Get him to open the little door and let you out. Wile him upon thestreet, and by some means keep him there. I shall lead out the horses. "

This was plausible, and the groom prepared himself for a strategicencounter with the portero. 

"When sufficient time has elapsed, steal after me to the garden. Seethat you manage well, Andres. I shall double your reward. You go withme--you have nothing to fear. "

"Senorita, I am ready to lay down my life for you. "

Gold is powerful. Gold had won the stout Andres to a fealty strongerthan friendship. For gold he was ready to strangle the portero on thespot. 

The latter was not asleep--only dozing, as a Spanish portero knows how. Andres put the stratagem in practice, he offered a cigar; and in a fewminutes' time his unsuspicious fellow-servant stepped with him throughthe gate, and both stood smoking outside. 

Catalina judged their situation by the hum of their voices. She enteredthe dark stable; and gliding to the head of one of the horses, caughtthe bridle, and led the animal forth. A few moments sufficed to conductit to the garden, where she knotted the rein to a tree. 

She then returned for the second, and the third, and the fourth andlast--all of which she secured as she had done the first. 

Once more she went back to the patio. This time only to shut thestable-door, and lock that of her own chamber; and, having secured both, she cast a look towards the zaguan, and then glided back into thegarden. Here she mounted her own horse, took the bridle of another inher hand, and sat waiting. 

She had not long to wait. Andres had well calculated his time, for in afew minutes he appeared in the entrance; and, having closed the gatebehind him, joined his mistress. 

The _ruse_ had succeeded admirably. The portero suspected nothing. Andres had bidden him "buenas noches, " at the same time expressing hisintention of going to bed. 

Don Ambrosio might now return when he pleased. He would retire to hissleeping-room as was his wont. He would not know before morning theloss he had sustained. 

The mufflings were now removed from the feet of the horses, and, plunging as silently as possible into the water, the four were guidedacross the stream. Having ascended the opposite bank, they were firstheaded towards the cliffs, but before they had proceeded far in thatdirection they turned into a path of the chapparal leading downward. This path would conduct them to the rancho of Josefa. 

CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN. 

From the position he occupied, Carlos did not fail to observe theoutlines of his prison, and search for that point that might be piercedwith least trouble. He saw that the walls were of adobe bricks--strong, enough to shut in an ordinary malefactor, but easily cut through by aman armed with the proper tool, and the determination to set himselffree. Two hours' work would suffice, but how to work that two hourswithout being interrupted and detected? That, was the question thatoccupied the mind of the captive. 

One thing was very evident; it would be unwise to commence operationsbefore a late hour--until the relief of the guard. 

Carlos had well calculated his measures. He had determined to remain ashe was, and keep up the counterfeit of his being fast bound until suchtime as the guard should be changed. He knew that it was the duty ofthe old guard to deliver him to the relief; and these would assurethemselves of his being in the cell by ocular inspection. He guessedthat the hour of guard-mounting must be near. He would, therefore, nothave long to wait before the new sentries should present themselves inhis cell. 

One thought troubled him. Would they keep him in the Calabozo thatnight, or take him back to the Presidio for better security? If thelatter, his only chance would be--as she had suggested--to make adesperate effort, and escape on the route. Once lodged in theguard-house prison, he would be surrounded by walls of stone. Therewould be no hope of cutting his way through them. 

It was probable enough he should be taken there; and yet why should theyfear his escape from the Calabozo--fast bound as they believed him--unarmed, guarded by vigilant sentinels? No. They would not dream ofhis getting off. Besides, it would be more convenient to keep him allnight in the latter prison. It was close to the place of his intendedexecution, which no doubt was to take place on the morrow. The garrotehad been already erected in front of his gaol!

Partly influenced by such considerations, and partly that they wereoccupied with pleasanter matters, the authorities had resolved onleaving him where he was for the night, though Carlos was ignorant ofthis. 

He had, however, prepared himself for either contingency. Should theyconvey him back to the Presidio, he would seek the best opportunity thatoffered, and risk his life in a bold effort to escape. Should he bepermitted to remain in the Calabozo, he would wait till the guard hadvisited him--then set to work upon the wall after they had gone out. Inthe event of being detected while at work, but one course remained, --runthe gauntlet of the guard, and cut his way through their midst. 

His escape was not an affair of such improbability. A determined manwith a long knife in his grasp--one who will yield only to death--is adifficult thing to secure under any circumstances. Such an one willoften effect his freedom, even when hemmed in by a host of enemies. With Carlos, however, the probabilities of escape were much greater. Hewas individually strong and brave, while most of his enemies werephysically but pigmies in comparison. As to their courage, he knew thatonce they saw him with his hands free and armed, they would make way forhim on all sides. What he had most to fear was the bullets of theircarbines; but he had much to hope from their want of skill, and thedarkness would favour him. 

For more than an hour he lay along the banqueta, turning over in hismind the chances of regaining his liberty. His reflections wereinterrupted by an unusual stir outside his prison. A fresh batch ofsoldiers had arrived at the door. 

Carlos' heart beat anxiously. Was it a party come to conduct him to thePresidio? It might be so. He waited with painful impatience listeningto every word. 

To his great joy it proved to be the arrival of the relief-guard; and hehad the satisfaction of hearing, by their conversation, that they hadbeen detailed to guard him all night in the Calabozo. This was just thevery thing he desired to know. 

Presently the door was unlocked and opened, and several of the menentered. One bore a lantern. With this they examined him--utteringcoarse and insulting remarks as they stood around. They saw that he wassecurely bound! After a while all went out and left him to himself. The door was of course re-locked, and the cell was again in perfectdarkness. 

Carlos lay still for a few minutes, to assure himself they were notgoing to return. He heard them place the sentries by the door, and thenthe voices of the greater number seemed borne off to some distance. 

Now was the time to begin his work. He hastily cast the cords from hishands and feet, drew the long knife from his breast, and attacked theadobe wall. 

The spot he has chosen was at the corner farthest from the door, and atthe back side of the cell. He knew not what was the nature of theground on the other side, but it seemed most likely that which would lietowards the open country. The Calabozo was no fortress-prison--a meretemporary affair, used by the municipal authorities for malefactors ofthe smaller kind. So much the better for his chances of breaking it. The wall yielded easily to his knife. The adobe is but dry mud, toughened by an admixture of grass, and although the bricks were laid tothe thickness of twenty inches or more, in the space of an hour Carlossucceeded in cutting a hole large enough to pass through. He could haveaccomplished this feat, in still shorter time, but he was compelled towork with caution, and as silently as possible. Twice he fancied thathis guards were about to enter the cell, and both times he had sprung tohis feet, and stood, knife in hand, ready to assail them. Fortunatelyhis fancies were without foundation. No one entered until the hole wasmade, and the captive had the satisfaction to feel the cold air rushingthrough the aperture!

He stopped his work and listened. There was no sound on that side ofthe prison. All was silence and darkness. He pressed his head forward, and peered through. The night was dark, but he could see weeds and wildcactus-plants growing close to the wall. Good! There were no signs oflife there. 

He widened the aperture to the size of his body, and crawled through, knife in hand. He raised himself gradually and silently. Nothing buttall rank weeds, cactus-plants, and aloes. He was behind the range ofthe dwellings. He was in the common. He was free!

He started towards the open country, skulking under the shadow of thebrushwood. A form rose before him, as if out of the earth, and a voicesoftly pronounced his name. He recognised the girl Josefa. A word ortwo was exchanged, when the girl beckoned him to follow, and silentlyled the way. 

They entered the chapparal, and, following a narrow path, succeeded ingetting round the village. On the other side lay the ranche, and inhalf-an-hour's time they arrived at and entered the humble dwelling. 

In the next moment Carlos was bending over the corpse of his mother!

There was no shock in this encounter. He had been half prepared forsuch an event. Besides, his nerves had been already strained to theirutmost by the spectacle of the morning. Sorrow may sometimes eclipsesorrow, and drive it from the heart; but that agony which he had alreadyendured could not be supplanted by a greater. The nerve of grief hadbeen touched with such severity that it could vibrate no longer!

Beside him was one who offered consolation--she, his noble preserver. 

But it was no hour for idle grief. Carlos kissed the cold lips--hastilyembraced his weeping sister--his love. 

"The horses?" he inquired. 

"They are close at hand--among the trees. "

"Come, then! we must not lose a moment--we must go hence. --Come!"

As he uttered these words, he wrapped the serape around the corpse, lifted it in his arms, and passed out of the rancho. 

The others had already preceded him to the spot where the horses wereconcealed. 

Carlos saw that there were five of these animals. A gleam of joy shotfrom his eyes as he recognised his noble steed. Antonio had recoveredhim. Antonio was there, on the spot. 

All were soon in the saddles. Two of the horses carried Rosita andCatalina; the other two were ridden by Antonio and the groom Andres. The cibolero himself, carrying his strange burden, once more sprang uponthe back of his faithful steed. 

"Down the valley, master?" inquired Antonio. 

Carlos hesitated a moment as if deliberating. 

"No, " replied he at length. "They would follow us that way. By thepass of La Nina. They will not suspect us of taking the cliff road. Lead on, Antonio:--the chapparal path--you know it best. On!"

The cavalcade started, and in a few minutes had passed the borders ofthe town, and was winding its way through the devious path that led tothe pass of La Nina. No words were exchanged, or only a whisper, as thehorses in single file followed one another through the chapparal. 

An hour's silent travel brought them to the pass, up which they filedwithout halting till they had reached the top of the ravine. HereCarlos rode to the front, and, directing Antonio to guide the othersstraight across the table-land, remained himself behind. 

As soon as the rest were gone past, he wheeled his horse, and rodedirect for the cliff of La Nina. Having reached the extremity of thebluff, he halted at a point that commanded a full view of San Ildefonso. In the sombre darkness of night the valley seemed but the vast craterof an extinct volcano; and the lights, glittering in the town and thePresidio, resembled the last sparks of flaming lava that had not yetdied out!

The horse stood still. The rider raised the corpse upon his arm; and, baring the pale face, turned it in the direction of the lights. 

"Mother! mother!" he broke forth, in a voice hoarse with grief. "Oh!that those eyes could see--that those ears could hear!--if but for amoment--one short moment--that you might bear witness to my vow! Heredo I swear that you shall be revenged! From this hour I yield up mystrength, my time, my soul and body, to the accomplishment of vengeance. Vengeance! why do I use the word? It is not vengeance, but justice--justice upon the perpetrators of the foulest murder the world has everrecorded. But it shall not go unpunished. Spirit of my mother, hearme! _It shall not_. Your death shall be avenged--your torture shallhave full retribution. Rejoice, you ruffian crew! feast, and be merry, for your time of sorrow will soon come--sooner than you think for! Igo, but to return. Have patience--you shall see me again. Yes! oncemore you shall stand face to face with Carlos the cibolero!"

He raised his right arm, and held it outstretched in a menacingattitude, while a gleam of vengeful triumph passed over his countenance. His horse, as if actuated by a similar impulse, neighed wildly; andthen wheeling round at a signal from his rider, galloped away from thecliff!

CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT. 

After having witnessed the disgusting ceremony in the Plaza, theofficers returned to their quarters at the Presidio. 

As already stated, they did not return alone. The principal men of theplace had been invited to dine with them--cura, padres, alcalde, andall. The capture of the outlaw was a theme of public gratulation andrejoicing; and the Comandante and his captain--to whom was due thecredit--were determined to rejoice. To that end the banquet was spreadin the Presidio. 

It was not thought worth while to remove Carlos to the soldiers' prison. He could remain all night in the Calabozo. Fast bound and well guardedas he was, there was not the slightest danger of him making his escape. 

To-morrow would be the last day of his life. To-morrow his foes shouldhave the pleasure of seeing him die--to-morrow the Comandante andRoblado would enjoy their full measure of vengeance. 

Even that day Vizcarra had enjoyed part of his. For the scorn withwhich he had been treated he had revenged himself--though it was he whofrom the centre of the Plaza had cried "_Basta_!" It was not mercy thathad caused him to interfere. His words were not prompted by motives ofhumanity--far otherwise. 

His designs were vile and brutal. To-morrow the brother would be putout of the way, and then--

The wine--the music--the jest--the loud laugh--all could not drown somebitter reflections. Ever and anon the mirror upon the wall threw backhis dark face spoiled and distorted. His success had been dearlypurchased--his was a sorry triumph. 

It prospered better with Roblado. Don Ambrosio was one of the guests, and sat beside him. 

The wine had loosened the heart-strings of the miner. He wascommunicative and liberal of his promises. His daughter, he said, hadrepented of her folly, and now looked with indifference upon the fate ofCarlos. Roblado might hope. 

It is probable that Don Ambrosio had reasons for believing what he said. It is probable that Catalina had thrown out such hints, the better toconceal her desperate design. 

The wine flowed freely, and the guests of the Comandante revelled underits influence. There were toasts, and songs, and patriotic speeches;and the hour of midnight arrived before the company was half satiatedwith enjoyment. 

In the midst of their carousal, a proposal was volunteered by some one, that the outlaw Carlos should be brought in! Odd as was thisproposition, it exactly suited the half-drunken revellers. Many werecurious to have a good sight of the cibolero--now so celebrated apersonage. 

The proposal was backed by many voices, and the Comandante pressed toyield to it. 

Vizcarra had no objection to gratify his guests. Both he and Robladorather liked the idea. It would be a further humiliation of their hatedenemy. 

Enough. Sergeant Gomez was summoned, the cibolero sent for, and therevelry went on. 

But that revelry was soon after brought to a sudden termination, whenSergeant Gomez burst into the saloon, and announced in a loud voicethat--

_The prisoner had escaped_!

A shell dropping into the midst of that company could not have scatteredit more completely. All sprang to their feet--chairs and tables wenttumbling over--glasses and bottles were dashed to the floor, and theutmost confusion ensued. 

The guests soon cleared themselves of the room. Some ran direct totheir houses to see if their families were safe; while others made theirway to the Calabozo to assure themselves of the truth of the sergeant'sreport. 

Vizcarra and Roblado were in a state bordering upon madness. Bothstormed and swore, at the same time ordering the whole garrison underarms. 

In a few minutes nearly every soldier of the Presidio had vaulted to hissaddle, and was galloping in the direction of the town. 

The Calabozo was surrounded. 

There was the hole through which the captive had got off. How had heunbound his fastenings--who had furnished him with the knife?

The sentries were questioned and flogged--and flogged and questioned--but could tell nothing. They knew not that their prisoner was gone, until Gomez and his party came to demand him!

Scouring parties were sent out in every direction--but in the night whatcould they do? The houses were all searched, but what was the use ofthat? The cibolero was not likely to have remained within the town. Nodoubt he was off once more to the Plains!

The night search proved ineffectual; and in the morning the party thathad gone down the valley returned, having found no traces either ofCarlos, his sister, or his mother. It was known that the _hechicera_had died on the previous night, but where had the body been taken to?Had she come to life again, and aided the outlaw in his escape? Suchwas the conjecture!

At a later hour in the morning some light was thrown on the mysteriousaffair. Don Ambrosio, who had gone to rest without disturbing hisdaughter, was awaiting her presence in the breakfast-room. Whatdetained her beyond the usual hour? The father grew impatient--thenanxious. A messenger was at length sent to summon her--no reply to theknocking at her chamber-door!

The door was burst open. The room was entered--it was founduntenanted--the bed unpressed--the senorita had fled!

She must be pursued! Where is the groom?--the horses? She must beovertaken and brought back!

The stable is reached, and its door laid open. No groom! no horse!--they, too, were gone!

Heavens! what a fearful scandal! The daughter of Don Ambrosio had notonly assisted the outlaw to escape, but she had shared his flight, andwas now with him. "_Huyeron_!" was the universal cry. 

The trail of the horses was at length taken up, and followed by a largeparty, both of dragoons and mounted civilians. It led into the highplain, and then towards the Pecos, where they had crossed. Upon theother side the trail was lost. The horses had separated, and gone indifferent directions, and their tracks, passing over dry shingle, couldno longer be followed. 

After several days' fruitless wandering, the pursuing party returned, and a fresh one started out; but this, after a while, came back toannounce a similar want of success. Every haunt had been searched; theold rancho--the groves on the Pecos--even the ravine and its cave hadbeen visited, and examined carefully. No traces of the fugitives couldbe discovered; and it was conjectured that they had gone clear off fromthe confines of the settlement. 

This conjecture proved correct, and guessing was at length set at rest. A party of friendly Comanches, who visited the settlement, brought inthe report that they had met the cibolero on their way across the LlanoEstacado--that he was accompanied by two women and several men withpack-mules carrying provisions--that he had told them (the Indians) hewas on his way for a long journey--in fact, to the other side of theGreat Plains. 

This information was definite, and no doubt correct. Carlos had beenoften heard to express his intention of crossing over to the country ofthe Americanos. He was now gone thither--most likely to settle upon thebanks of the Mississippi. He was already far beyond the reach ofpursuit. They would see him no more--as it was not likely he would everagain show his face in the settlements of New Mexico. 

Months rolled past. Beyond the report of the Comanches, nothing washeard of Carlos or his people. Although neither he nor his wereforgotten, yet they had ceased to be generally talked of. Other affairsoccupied the minds of the people of San Ildefonso; and there had latelyarisen one or two matters of high interest--almost sufficient to eclipsethe memory of the noted outlaw. 

The settlement had been threatened by an invasion from the Yutas--whichwould have taken place, had not the Yutas, just at the time, beenthemselves attacked and beaten by another tribe of savages! This defeathad prevented their invasion of the valley--at least for that season, but they had excited fears for the future. 

Another terror had stirred San Ildefonso of late--a threatened revolt ofthe Tagnos, the _Indios mansos_, or _tame_ Indians, who formed themajority of the population. Their brethren in several other settlementshad risen, and succeeded in casting off the Spanish yoke. 

It was natural that those of San Ildefonso should dream of similaraction, and conspire. 

But their conspiracy was nipped in the bud by the vigilance of theauthorities. The leaders were arrested, tried, condemned, and shot. Their scalps were hung over the gateway of the Presidio, as a warning totheir dusky compatriots, who were thus reduced to complete submission!

These tragic occurrences had done much to obliterate from the memory ofall the cibolero and his deeds. True, there were some of San Ildefonsowho, with good cause, still remembered both; but the crowd had ceased tothink of either him or his. All had heard and believed that the outlawhad long ago crossed the Great Plains, and was now safe under theprotection of those of his own race, upon the banks of the Mississippi. 

CHAPTER SIXTY NINE. 

And what had become of Carlos? Was it true that he had crossed thegreat plains? Did he never return? What became of San Ildefonso?

These questions were asked, because he who narrated the legend hadremained for some time silent. His eyes wandered over the valley, nowraised to the cliff of La Nina, and now resting upon the weed-coveredruin. Strong emotion was the cause of his silence. 

His auditory, already half guessing the fate of San Ildefonso, impatiently desired to know the end. After a while he continued. 

Carlos _did_ return. What became of San Ildefonso? In yonder ruin youhave your answer. San Ildefonso fell. But, you would know how? Oh! itis a terrible tale--a tale of blood and vengeance, and Carlos was theavenger. 

Yes--the cibolero returned to the valley of San Ildefonso, but he camenot alone. Five hundred warriors were at his back--red warriors whoacknowledged him as their leader--their "White Chief. " They were thebraves of the Waco band. They knew the story of his wrongs, and hadsworn to avenge him!

It was autumn--late autumn--that loveliest season of the American year, when the wild woods appeal painted, and Nature seems to repose after herannual toil--when all her creatures, having feasted at the full banquetshe has so lavishly laid out for them, appear content and happy. 

It was night, with an autumnal moon--that moon whose round orb andsilvery beams have been celebrated in the songs of many a harvest land. 

Not less brilliant fell those beams where no harvest was ever known--upon the wild plain of the Llano Estacado. The lone _hatero_, couchedbeside his silent flock, was awakened by a growl from his watchfulsheep-dog. Raising himself, he looked cautiously around. Was it thewolf, the grizzly bear, or the red puma? None of these. A fardifferent object was before his eyes, as he glanced over the levelplain--an object whose presence caused him to tremble. 

A long line of dark forms was moving across the plain. They were theforms of horses with their riders. They were in single file--the muzzleof each horse close to the croup of the one that preceded him. Fromeast to west they moved. The head of the line was already near, but itsrear extended beyond the reach of the hatero's vision. 

Presently the troop filed before him, and passed within two hundredpaces of where he lay. Smoothly and silently it glided on. There wasno chinking of bits, no jingling of spurs, no clanking of sabres. Alonecould be heard the dull stroke of the shoeless hoof, or at intervals theneigh of an impatient steed, suddenly checked by a reproof from hisrider. Silently they passed on--silent as spectres. The full moongleaming upon them added to their unearthly appearance!

The watcher trembled where he lay--though he knew they were notspectres. He knew well what they were, and understood the meaning ofthat extended deployment. They were Indian warriors upon the march. The bright moonlight enabled him to distinguish farther. He saw thatthey were all full-grown men--that they were nude to the waist, andbelow the thighs--that their breasts and arms were painted--that theycarried nought but their bows, quivers, and spears--in short, that theywere braves _on the war-trail_!

Strangest sight of all to the eyes of the hatero was the leader who rodeat the head of that silent band. He differed from all the rest indress, in equipments, in the colour of his skin. _The hatero saw thathe was white_!

Surprised was he at first on observing this, but not for long. Thisshepherd was one of the sharpest of his tribe. It was he who haddiscovered the remains of the yellow hunter and his companion. Heremembered the events of that time. He reflected; and in a few momentsarrived at the conclusion that the _White Chief_ he now saw could be noother than Carlos the cibolero! In that conjecture he was right. 

The first thought of the hatero had been to save his own life byremaining quiet. Before the line of warriors had quite passed him, other thoughts came into his mind. The Indians were on the_war-trail_!--they were marching direct for the settlement, --they wereheaded by Carlos the cibolero!

The history of Carlos the outlaw now came before his mind--he rememberedthe whole story; beyond a doubt the cibolero was returning to thesettlement to take vengeance upon his enemies!

Influenced partly by patriotism, and partly by the hope of reward, thehatero at once resolved to defeat this purpose. He would hasten to thevalley and warn the garrison!

As soon as the line had filed past he rose to his feet, and was about tostart off upon his errand; but he had miscalculated the intelligence ofthe white leader. Long before, the flanking scouts had enclosed bothhim and his charge, and the next moment he was a captive! Part of hisflock served for the supper of that band he would have betrayed. 

Up to the point where the hatero had been encountered, the White Chiefand his followers had travelled along a well-known path--the trail ofthe traders. Beyond this, the leader swerved from the track; andwithout a word headed obliquely over the plain. The extended linefollowed silently after--as the body of a snake moves after its head. 

Another hour, and they had arrived at the _ceja_ of the Great Plain--ata point well-known to their chief. It was at the head of that ravinewhere he had so oft found shelter from his foes. The moon, thoughshining with splendid brilliance, was low in the sky, and her light didnot penetrate the vast chasm. It lay buried in dark shade. The descentwas a difficult one, though not to such men, and with such a guide. 

Muttering some words to his immediate follower, the White Chief headedhis horse into the cleft, and the next moment disappeared under theshadow of the rocks. 

The warrior that followed, passing the word behind him, rode after, andlikewise disappeared in the darkness; then another, and another, untilfive hundred mounted men were engulfed in that fearful-looking abysm. Not one remained upon the upper plain. 

For a while there struck upon the ear a continued pattering sound--thesound of a thousand hoofs as they fell upon rocks and loose shingle. But this noise gradually died away, and all was silence. Neither horsesnor men gave any token of their presence in the ravine. The only soundsthat fell upon the ears were the voices of nature's wild creatures whosehaunts had been invaded. They were the wail of the goatsucker, the bayof the barking wolf, and the maniac scream of the eagle. 

Another day passes--another moon has arisen--and the gigantic serpent, that had all day lain coiled in the ravine, is seen gliding silently outat its bottom, and stretching its long vertebrate form across the plainof the Pecos. 

The stream is reached and crossed; amidst plashing spray, horse followshorse over the shallow ford, and then the glittering line glides on. 

Having passed the river lowlands, it ascends the high plains thatoverlook the valley of San Ildefonso. 

Here a halt is made--scouts are sent forward--and once more the linemoves on. 

Its head reaches the cliff of La Nina just as the moon has sunk behindthe snowy summit of the Sierra Blanca. For the last hour the leader hasbeen marching slowly, as though he waited her going down. Her light isno longer desired. Darkness better befits the deed that is to be done. 

A halt is made until the pass has been reconnoitred. That done, theWhite Chief guides his followers down the defile; and in anotherhalf-hour the five hundred horsemen have silently disappeared within themazes of the chapparal!

Under the guidance of the half-blood Antonio, an open glade is foundnear the centre of the thicket. Here the horsemen dismount and tietheir horses to the trees. The attack is to be made on foot. 

It is now the hour after midnight. The moon has been down for sometime; and the cirrus clouds, that for a while had reflected her light, have been gradually growing darker. Objects can no longer bedistinguished at the distance of twenty feet. The huge pile of thePresidio, looming against the leaden sky, looks black and gloomy. Thesentinel cannot be seen upon the turrets, but at intervals his shrillvoice uttering the "_Centinela alerte_!" tells that he is at his post. His call is answered by the sentinel at the gate below, and then all issilent. The garrison sleeps secure--even the night-guard in the zaguanwith their bodies extended along the stone banqueta, are sleepingsoundly. 

The Presidio dreads no sudden attack--there has been no rumour of Indianincursion--the neighbouring tribes are all _en paz_; and the Tagnoconspirators have been destroyed. Greater vigilance would besuperfluous. A sentry upon the azotea, and another by the gate, aredeemed sufficient for the ordinary guardianship of the garrison. Ha!the inmates of the Presidio little dream of the enemy that is nigh:

"_Centinela alerte_!" once more screams the watcher upon the wall. "_Centinela alerte_!" answers the other by the gate. 

But neither is sufficiently on the alert to perceive the dark formsthat, prostrate upon the ground, like huge lizards, are crawling forwardto the very walls. Slowly and silently these forms are moving, amidstweeds and grass, gradually drawing nearer to the gateway of thePresidio. 

A lantern burns by the sentinel. Its light, radiating to some distance, does not avail him--he sees them not!

A rustling noise at length reaches his ear. The "_quien viva_?" is uponhis lips; but he lives not to utter the words. Half-a-dozen bowstringstwang simultaneously, and as many arrows bury themselves in his flesh. His heart is pierced, and he falls, almost without uttering a groan!

A stream of dark forms pours into the open gateway. The guard, but halfawake, perish before they can lay hand upon their weapons!

And now the war-cry of the Wacoes peals out in earnest, and the hundredsof dark warriors rush like a torrent through the zaguan. 

They enter the patio. The doors of the _cuartos_ are besieged--soldiers, terrified to confusion, come forth in their shirts, and fallunder the spears of their dusky assailants. Carbines and pistols crackon all sides, but those who fire do not live to reload them. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a short but terrible struggle--terrible while it lasted. Therewere shouts, and shots, and groans, mingling together--the deep voice ofthe vengeful leader, and the wild war-cry of his followers--the crashingof timber, as doors were broken through or forced from their hinges--theclashing of swords and spears, and the quick detonation of fire-arms. Oh! it was a terrible conflict!

It ends at length. An almost total silence follows. The warriors nolonger utter their dread cry. Their soldier-enemies are destroyed. Every cuarto has been cleared of its inmates, who lie in bleeding heapsover the patio and by the doors. No quarter has been given. All havebeen killed on the spot. 

No--not all. There are two who survive--two whose lives have beenspared. Vizcarra and Roblado yet live!

Piles of wood are now heaped against the timber posterns of thebuilding, and set on fire. Volumes of smoke roll to the sky, minglingwith sheets of red flame. The huge pine-beams of the azotea catch theblaze, burn, crackle, and fall inwards, and in a short while thePresidio becomes a mass of smoking ruins!

But the red warriors have not waited for this. The revenge of theirleader is not yet complete. It is not to the soldiers alone that heowes vengeance. He has sworn it to the citizens as well. The wholesettlement is to be destroyed!

And well this oath was kept, for before the sun rose San Ildefonso wasin flames. The arrow, and the spear, and the tomahawk, did their work;and men, women, and children, perished in hundreds under the blazingroofs of their houses!

With the exception of the Tagno Indians, few survived to tell of thathorrid massacre. A few whites only--the unhappy father of Catalinaamong the rest--were permitted to escape, and carry their brokenfortunes to another settlement. 

That of San Ildefonso--town, Presidio, mission, haciendas, and ranchos--in the short space of twelve hours had ceased to exist. The dwellers ofthat lovely valley were no more!

It is yet but noon. The ruins of San Ildefonso are still smoking. Itsformer denizens are dead, but it is not yet unpeopled. In the Plazastand hundreds of dusky warriors drawn up in hollow square, with theirfaces turned inward. They are witnessing a singular scene--another actin the drama of their leader's vengeance. 

Two men are mounted upon asses, and tied upon the backs of the animals. These men are stripped--so that their own backs are perfectly bare, andexposed to the gaze of the silent spectators! Though these men nolonger wear their flowing robes, it is easy to distinguish them. Theirclose-cut hair and shaven crowns show who they are--the padres of themission!

Deep cuts the cuarto into their naked skin, loudly do they groan, andfearfully writhe. Earnestly do they beg and pray their persecutors tostay the terrible lash. Their entreaties are unheeded. 

Two white men, standing near, overlook the execution. These are Carlosthe cibolero and Don Juan the ranchero. 

The priests would move them to pity, but in vain. The hearts of thosetwo men have been turned to stone. 

"Remember my mother--my sister!" mutters Carlos. 

"Yes, false priests--remember!" adds Don Juan. 

And again is plied the cutting lash, until each corner of the Plaza haswitnessed a repetition of the punishment!

Then the asses are led up in front of the parroquia--now roofless andblack; their heads are fastened together, so that the backs of theirriders are turned toward the spectators. 

A line of warriors forms at a distance off--their bows are bent, and ata signal a flight of arrows goes whistling through the air. 

The suffering of the padres is at an end. Both have ceased to exist. 

I have arrived at the last act of this terrible drama; but words cannotdescribe it. In horror it eclipses all the rest. The scene is LaNina--the top of the cliff--the same spot where Carlos had performed hissplendid feat on the day of San Juan. 

Another feat of horsemanship is now to be exhibited. How different theactors--how different the spectators!

Upon the tongue that juts out two men are seated upon horseback. Theyare not free riders, for it may be noticed that they are tied upon theirseats. Their hands do not grasp a bridle, but are bound behind theirbacks; and their feet, drawn together under the bellies of their horses, are there spliced with raw-hide ropes. To prevent turning in thesaddle, other thongs, extending from strong leathern waist-belts, staythem to croup and pommel, and hold their bodies firm. Under such aligature no horse could dismount either without also flinging thesaddle, and that is guarded against by the strongest girthing. It isnot intended that these horsemen shall lose their seats until they haveperformed an extraordinary feat. 

It is no voluntary act. Their countenances plainly tell that. Upon thefeatures of both are written the most terrible emotions--cravencowardice in all its misery--despair in its darkest shadows!

Both are men of nearly middle age--both are officers in full uniform. But it needs not that to recognise them as the deadly enemies ofCarlos--Vizcarra and Roblado. No longer now his enemies. They are hiscaptives!

But for what purpose are they thus mounted? What scene of mockery is tobe enacted? Scene of mockery! Ha! ha! ha!

Observe! _the horses upon which they sit are wild mustangs_! Observe!_they are blinded with tapojos_!

For what purpose? You shall see. 

A Tagno stands at the head of each horse, and holds him with difficulty. The animals are kept fronting the cliff, with their heads directed tothe jutting point of La Nina. 

The Indians are drawn up in line also facing to the cliff. There is nonoise in their ranks. An ominous silence characterises the scene. Infront is their chief mounted upon his coal-black steed; and upon him theeyes of all are fixed, as though they expected some signal, his face ispale, but its expression is stern and immobile. He has not yet reachedthe completion of his vengeance. 

There are no words between him and his victims. All that has passed. They know their doom. 

Their backs are towards him, and they see him not; but the Tagnos whostand by the horses' heads have their eyes fixed upon him with asingular expression. What do these expect? A signal. 

In awful silence was that signal given. To the right and left sprangthe Tagnos, leaving free the heads of the mustangs. Another signal tothe line of mounted warriors, who, on receiving it, spurred their horsesforward with a wild yell. 

Their spears soon pricked the hips of the mustangs, and the blindedanimals sprang towards the cliff!

The groans of agonised terror that escaped from their riders weredrowned by the yells of the pursuing horsemen. 

In a moment all was over. The terrified mustangs had sprung out fromthe cliff--had carried their riders into eternity!

The dusky warriors pulled up near the brink, and sat gazing upon eachother in silent awe. 

A horseman dashed to the front; and, poising his horse upon the veryedge, looked down into the abysm. It was the White Chief. 

For some moments he regarded the shapeless masses that lay below. Hesaw that they moved not. Men and horses were all dead crushed, bruised, and shattered--a hideous sight to behold!

A deep sigh escaped him, as though some weight had been lifted from hisheart, and, turning around he muttered to his friend--

"Don Juan! I have kept my oath--_she is avenged_!"

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The setting sun saw that long line of Indian warriors filing from thevalley, and heading for the plain of the Llano Estacado. But they wentnot as they had come. They returned to their country laden with theplunder of San Ildefonso--to them the legitimate spoils of war. 

The cibolero still rode at their head, and Don Juan the ranchero was byhis side. The fearful scenes through which they had just passedshadowed the brows of both; but these shadows became lighter as theydwelt on the prospect before them. Each looked forward to a happygreeting at the end of his journey. 

Carlos did not remain long among his Indian friends. Loaded with thetreasure they had promised, he proceeded farther east, and established aplantation upon the Red River of Louisiana. Here, in the company of hisbeautiful wife, his sister, Don Juan, and some of his old servants, heled in after years a life of peace and prosperity. 

Now and then no made hunting excursions into the country of his oldfriends the Wacoes--who were over glad to see him again, and stillhailed him as their chief. 

Of San Ildefonso there is no more heard since that time. No settlementwas ever after made in that beautiful valley. The Tagnos--released fromthe bondage which the padres had woven around them--were but too glad togive up the half-civilisation they had been taught. Some of them soughtother settlements, but most returned to their old habits, and once morebecame hunters of the plains. 

Perhaps the fate of San Ildefonso might have attracted more attention inother times; but it occurred at a peculiar period in Spanish-Americanhistory. Just then the Spanish power, all over the American continent, was hastening to its decline; and the fall of San Ildefonso was but oneepisode among many of a character equally dramatic. Near the same timefell Gran Quivira, Abo, Chilili, and hundreds of other settlements ofnote. Each has its story--each its red romance--perhaps far moreinteresting than that we have here recorded. 

Chance alone guided our steps to the fair valley of San Ildefonso, --chance threw in our way one who remembered its legend--the legend of the_White Chief_. 

APPENDIX. 

NOTES. 

"_Sierra Blanca_. "--Page 1. The Sierra Blanca is so called because thetops of this range are usually covered with snow. The snow of theSierra Blanca is not "eternal. " It only remains for about three partsof the year. Its highest peaks are below the snow-line of thatlatitude. Mountains that carry the eternal snow are by the SpanishAmericans denominated "Nevada. "

"_The Grand Prairie_. "--Page 2. This name is somewhat indefinite, beingapplied by some to particular portions of prairie land. Among thehunters it is the general name given to the vast treeless region lyingto the west of the timbered country on the Mississippi. The wholelongitudinal belt from the Lower Rio Grande to the Great Slave Lake is, properly speaking, the Grand Prairie; but the phrase has been used in amore restricted sense, to designate the larger tracts of open country, in contra-distinction to the smaller prairies, such as those of Illinoisand Louisiana, which last are separated from the true prairie country bywide tracts of timbered surface. 

"_Settlements of Nuevo Mexico_. "--Page 2. The settlements of New Mexicocovered at one time a much wider extent of country than they do now. The Indians have been constantly narrowing the boundaries for the lastfifty years. At present these settlements are almost wholly restrictedto the banks of the Del Norte and a few tributary streams. 

"_Gramma grass_. "--Page 2. The _Chondrosium_, a beautiful and mostnutritions herbage that covers many of the plains of Texas and NorthMexico. There are several species of grass known among Mexicans as"gramma"; one in particular, the _Chondrosium foeneum_, as a food forhorses, is but little inferior to oats. 

"_Cackle of his fighting-cock_. "--Page 7. There is no exaggeration inall this. Every traveller in Mexico has witnessed such scenes, and manyhave borne testimony to these and similar facts. I have often seen thefighting chanticleer carried inside the church under the arm of itsowner, while the latter entered to pray!

"_Fiestas principales_. "--Page 7. The more noted Saints' days, orreligious festivals, as Saint John's, Good-Friday, Guadalupe, etcetera, are so styled to distinguish them from the many others of lessercelebrity. 

"_Tailing the bull_. "--Page 7. "Bull-tailing" (_coleo de toro_) and"running the cock" (_correr el gallo_) are favourite sports in mostparts of Mexico, but particularly in the Northern provinces. They werealso Californian games while that country was Spano-Mexican. 

"_The Apache_"--Page 8. One of the largest tribes of the "Indiosbravos" or wild Indians, _i. E. _ Indians who have never submitted to theSpanish yoke. Their country lies around the heads of the Gila, extending from that stream to the Del Norte, and down the latter to therange of another large and powerful tribe--the Comanches--also classedas "Indios bravos. "

"_Familias principales_. "--Page 8. The "first families, " a UnitedStates phrase, is the synonym of "familias principales" of Mexico. 

"_Comerciante_. "--Page 8. Merchant or extensive trader. Merchandise isnot degrading in Mexico. The rich merchant may be one of the "familiasprincipales. " Although there is still an old _noblesse_ in the Mexicanrepublic, the titles are merely given by courtesy, and those who holdthem are often outranked and eclipsed in style by the prosperousparvenu. 

"_Alcalde_. "--Page 8. Pronounced Alkalde. The duties of the Alcaldeare very similar to those of a magistrate or justice of the peace. Every village has its Alcalde, who is known by his large gold orsilver-headed cane and tassel. In villages where the population ispurely Indian, the Alcalde is usually either of Indian or mixeddescent--often pure Indian. 

"_Mode de Paris_!"--Page 8. The upper classes in Mexico, particularlythose who reside in the large cities, have discarded the verypicturesque national costume, and follow the fashions of Paris. In allthe large towns, French tailors, modistes, jewellers, etcetera, may bemet with. The ladies wear French dresses, but without the bonnet. Theshawl is drawn over the head when it becomes necessary to cover it. Thehideous bonnet is only seen upon foreign ladies residing in Mexico. Thecity gentleman of first-class wears a frock-coat, but the cloth jacketis the costume of the greater number. A long-tailed dress-coat isregarded as an _outre_ affair, and never appears upon the streets of aMexican town. 

"_Gachupino_. "--Page 9. A Spaniard of Old Spain. The term is usedcontemptuously by the natives, or Creoles (Criollos), of Mexico, whohate their Spanish cousins as the Americans hate Englishmen, and for avery similar reason. 

"_Hijo de algo_. "--Page 9. Literally, "son of somebody. " Hence theword _hidalgo_. The "blue blood" (_sangre azul_) is the term for pureblood or high birth. 

"_Poblanas_. "--Page 9. A _poblana_ is, literally, a village girl orwoman, but in a more specific sense it signifies a village belle, orbeauty. It is nearly a synonyme of the Spanish "maja. "

"_Don Juan Tenorio_. "--Page 9. Don Juan Tenorio--a celebrated characterof Spanish romance and drama. He is the original from which Byron drewhis conception of Don Juan. He is the hero of a thousand love-scrapesand "_desafios_, " or duels. The drama of "Don Juan Tenorio" still keepsthe Spanish stage, and Spaniards can hardly find words to express theiradmiration of its poetry. It requires two nights to play this piece, which is about twice the length of a regular five-act play. 

"_Teniente_. "--Page 9. "Lugar-teniente" is lieutenant in Spanish, butthe "lugar" is left out, and "teniente" stands for the title of thesubaltern. 

"_Quien sabel_. "--Page 10. A noted phrase which figures largely inSpanish dialogue. Literally, "Who knows?"

"_Gambucinos and rancheros_!"--Page 10. _Gambucino_, a petty miner, whodigs or washes gold on his own account. _Ranchero_, the dweller in a_rancho_, or country hut. The ranchero class corresponds pretty nearlyto that known as "small farmers, " though in Mexico they are more oftengraziers than agriculturists. 

"_Enaguas_. "--Page 10. Sometimes written "nagua, "--the petticoat, usually of coarse blue or red cotton stuff, with a list of white or someother colour forming the top part. 

"_Reboso_. "--Page 10. The scarf of greyish or slaty blue, worn by allwomen in Mexico, except the ladies of the Upper Ten Thousand, who use itonly on occasions. 

"_Allegria_. "--Page 11. A singular custom prevails among the women ofNew Mexico, of daubing their faces all over with the juice of a berrycalled by them the "allegria, " which gives them anything but a charminglook. The juice is of a purplish red colour, somewhat like that ofblackberries. Some travellers allege that it is done for ornament, asthe Indians use vermilion and other pigments. This is not a correctexplanation. The "allegria" is used by the New Mexican belles topreserve the complexion, and get it up towards some special occasion, such as a grand _fiesta_ or "fandango, " when it is washed off, and theskin comes out clear and free from "tan. " The "allegria" is the wellknown "poke-weed" of the United States (_Phytolacca decandra_. )

"_Sombrero_. "--Page 11. The black _glaze_ hat with low crown and broadleaf is a universal favourite throughout Mexico. It is often wornseveral pounds in weight, and that, too, under a hot tropic sun. Somesort of gold or silver lace-band is common, but frequently this is ofheavy bullion, and costly. 

"_Pueblos_. "--Page 11. There are many towns in New Mexico inhabitedexclusively by "Pueblos, " a name given to a large tribe of civilisedIndians, --_Indios mansos_ (tame Indians) such tribes are called, todistinguish them from the _Indios bravos_, or savages, who neveracknowledged the sway of the Spanish conquerors. 

"_Peons_. "--Page 12. The labouring serfs of the country are _peons_. They are not slaves by the wording of the political law, but most ofthem are in reality slaves by the law of debtor and creditor. 

"_Petates_, " etcetera--Page 12. A "petate" is a small mat about thesize of a blanket, woven out of palm-strips, or bulrushes, according tothe district; it is the universal bed of the Mexican peasant. 

_Tunas_ and _pitahayas_ are fruits of different species of cactus. 

_Sandias_ are water-melons. 

_Dulces_ are preserves. 

_Agua-miel_ and _limonada_, refreshing drinks peculiar to Mexico. 

_Piloncillos_, loaves of coarse brown sugar, met with in all parts ofMexico, and very much like the maple-sugar of the States. 

_Tortillas_, the often-described daily bread of the Mexican people. 

_Chili Colorado_, red pepper. 

_Ollas_, earthen pots of all sizes--almost the only sort used in theMexican kitchen. 

_Atole_, a thin gruel resembling flour and water, but in reality madeout of the finer dust of the maize, boiled and sweetened. 

_Pinole_, parched maize mixed with water and sweetened. 

_Clacos_, copper cents, or half-pence, --the copper coin of Mexico. 

_Punche_, a species of native-grown tobacco. 

_Aguardiente_, whisky distilled from maize, or sometimes from the aloe--literally, _agua ardiente_, hot or fiery water. It is the common whiskyof the country, and a vile stuff in most cases.