The _Don Cristoval_ having been captured with negroes actually on board,

the Mixed Commission promptly condemned her, while her crew were

committed for trial; and upon the day following her condemnation I

learned that the schooner had been purchased into the service for use

against some of her equally notorious sisters. There was one craft in

particular--a barque named the _Josefa_--that we were especially anxious

to lay hands upon, as hitherto she--or rather, her skipper--had simply

laughed at and defied us; but now, with the _Don Cristoval_ in our

possession, it was confidently believed that we should at length succeed

in capturing the too-successful barque, and bringing her insolent

commander and crew to justice.

To capture such a craft would be fame indeed, and would almost certainly

mean promotion as well--imagine, therefore, if you can, the delight with

which I shortly afterwards received the intelligence that, through our

skipper's representations, _I_ had been appointed to the command of the

_Don Cristoval_!

So rapidly did I push forward our preparations that on the eighth day

after our arrival we sailed again, my instructions being to thoroughly

beat up every known spot frequented by slavers, and especially to keep a

sharp look-out for the _Josefa_.

"From information received" I had been enabled to accurately fix the

date of the barque's last visit to the coast, from which I had no

difficulty in calculating pretty closely when she might be expected in

those waters again; and finding that I had plenty of time, I determined

to stand to the southward and take a look in at the Congo, gradually

working my way northward again from there.

We made rather a long passage of it, taking things very quietly, in the

hope that we might encounter some slave craft either making or running

off the coast, in which case I hoped that ignorance of the fact that the

_Don Cristoval_ had fallen into our hands might enable us to make one or

two very easy captures. But no such luck befell us, and it was not until

we arrived at Banana--a small trading settlement at the mouth of the

Congo--that we sighted a craft of any kind. There, however, anchored off

French Point, at the mouth of Banana Creek, we came upon quite a little

fleet, numbering eight sail in all, three of which were undoubtedly

honest traders, beamy, round-bowed, motherly-looking craft, the best of

which might possibly be capable of going seven--or maybe eight--knots

with a gale of wind over her quarter; while the remaining

five--consisting of a slashing brig, two smart brigantines, and two as

wicked-looking schooners as I ever set eyes on--were as undoubtedly

slavers. But in hoping, as I did, that I should catch some of these

gentry napping, I was reckoning without my host; whether news of the

capture of the _Don Cristoval_ had already got wind and been spread

along the coast, or whether there was something in the set of the

schooner's canvas or our method of handling her that aroused their

suspicions, I could not tell, but certain it is that when I boarded them

their skippers one and all produced papers which certified to their

absolute honesty, while they were virtuously indignant at the doubts

which led me to intimate that I must nevertheless take the liberty of

overhauling their holds. Of course no opposition was raised--they were

fully aware that anything of that kind would have been worse than

useless--but many a scowling look did I intercept, and many a muttered

execration reached my ear as I proceeded with my search. Needless to say

that my labour was all in vain; the rascals had been too smart for me; I

found neither irons, nor farina, nor any excess of water-casks on board

any of them to give colour to the suspicion that they were otherwise

than honest; but all the same I was perfectly well aware that there was

neither palm-oil nor ivory in anything like sufficient quantity in

Banana to account for the presence of so many craft off its wharves. And

upon my hinting as much to one of the traders ashore, he frankly

admitted that such was the case, but he explained that large quantities

of both were on their way down to the coast, and might be expected to

arrive at any moment. I remained at anchor there for the next three

days, prowling about on shore--taking the precaution to always go well

armed--and exploring in a boat the intricate network of creeks in the

neighbourhood, but I made no discoveries; and the only incident worthy

of note that occurred during this period was the sudden sailing of one

of the schooners within three hours of our arrival.

On the evening of the third day I weighed and stood out to sea under a

press of canvas, hauling up to the northward as soon as I had cleared

the mouth of the river, carrying on until dark, in the hope of

impressing those who I knew were watching me, with the belief that I

had somehow obtained important intelligence upon which I was acting. But

as soon as the night had closed down upon us sufficiently to conceal our

movements, I wore round and stood to the southward again, finally

anchoring in seventy fathoms of water at a distance of some twenty-two

miles north-west of Padron Point. Having done this, I ordered the royal,

top-gallant, and topsail yards to be sent down, and the fore-topmast to

be housed, after which there was nothing for us to do but to possess our

souls in patience and wait for some of the slavers to come out and fall

into our clutches, as I felt confident they would in the course of a day

or two, provided that in the meantime no inward-bound craft hove in

sight to tempt us from our watching-place, or to slip past us and give

the alarm. And I had every justification for this feeling of confidence,

for two nights later, as I was in the very act of going below to turn in

after chatting with the youngster who acted as my "first," and who was

in charge of the deck, the look-out aloft hailed--

"On deck, there!"

"Hillo!" I responded; "do you see anything?"

"Well, I ain't _quite_ certain yet, sir, but for the last ten minutes

I've been thinkin' that there's a small spot of darkness showin' out

again' the sky right ahead, and I thought I'd better let you know, sir,"

was the answer.

"Quite right, my lad," I responded. "Keep your eye on it, and I will

send up the night-glass to you by way of the signal halliards."

"Ay, ay, sir," the fellow answered; and in another half-minute the glass

was bent on and making its way aloft to the gingerly swaying away of the

quartermaster, while a faint murmur of eager anticipation came floating

aft from the forecastle upon the heavy, damp night breeze, which was

blowing off the land.

For several long minutes after the instrument had reached its

destination we were kept upon the tenterhooks of suspense; but at

length another hail, in low, cautious tones, came down from the

mast-head--

"On deck, there! there's _something_ coming out of the river, sir! No

mistake about it _this_ time, because her canvas has just shut out a

star that's risin'. And she's comin' along fast, too, sir; I can make

her out quite distinct with the naked heye."

"Capital!" I exclaimed; "that is good news indeed! Can you make out how

she is heading?"

"Well, only in a general sort of way, sir," was the reply. "She's

steerin' this way, o' course, but she's edgin' away to the nor'ard too.

I reckon that if we stays where we are now, she'll pass us about a

matter of three or four mile to the nor'ard."

"Very well," I responded. "Keep your eye upon her; do not lose sight of

her for an instant. Now, Mr. Adams," I continued to the midshipman in

charge of the deck, "have all hands called, if you please, and let some

of them man the capstan and get the anchor to the bows, while the rest

get the fore-topmast on end and the yards across. And, remember, they

will have to see with their _hands_, for no lights whatever must be

shown. With only ordinary care we ought to nab that fellow easily."

And we did, regulating our movements so accurately that, although we

were soon afterwards discovered, we contrived to get alongside her

within an hour, ranging up on her weather quarter and hailing her to

heave-to, which she did without attempting any resistance; and a few

minutes later we found ourselves masters of the _St. Iago de Cuba_--the

brig I had boarded in the river--with three hundred and eighty-four

slaves in her hold! I could spare but a very small prize crew to take

her into Sierra Leone, I therefore took the precaution to put the whole

of her people in irons; having done which, I sent her away in charge of

my senior mid and ten men, giving him instructions to carry on day and

night until his arrival. This done, we parted company, and I returned

to my former lurking-place off the mouth of the Congo, where I was next

day fortunate enough to capture a fine brigantine with three hundred and

twelve slaves under hatches.

CHAPTER III

"CAPITAN ST. CROIX"

The prize crew necessary to man this second capture left me so very

short-handed that, after due consideration, I decided to escort her to

Sierra Leone in the schooner, which would enable me to get my men back

quickly, and would at the same time afford me an opportunity to

replenish my stores and water. This I accordingly did, arriving only a

few hours later than the _St. Iago de Cuba_. I soon had reason, however,

to regret the decision at which I had arrived, for several unexpected

difficulties arose over the adjudication of my prizes, involving so

serious a delay that when at length we got to sea again I was tormented

with anxiety lest the _Josefa_ should have arrived upon the coast,

shipped another cargo of slaves, and slipped off again ere I could

obtain news of her. I had been given to understand, however, that,

although somewhat erratic in her movements, she chiefly frequented the

Congo; I determined, therefore, to make the best of my way back to that

river in the first place, trusting to chance for information as to her

whereabouts upon my arrival.

I was not destined, however, to wait so long, for while slipping across

the Gulf of Guinea, in the latitude of the island of St. Thomas, we

sighted a small felucca, to which we at once gave chase. This craft,

however, instead of attempting to avoid us, promptly bore up and came

running down to meet us. She ran down across our stern, and, in

response to my hail, rounded to on our lee quarter, lowered her single

lateen sail, and launched a boat from her gangway, in which her skipper,

with two hands as boat's crew, presently pulled alongside us. The man--a

bare-footed, decidedly unclean, and rather disreputable-looking

Frenchman, attired in a suit of once white nankin, topped by a

broad-brimmed straw hat--appeared to be labouring under much

ill-repressed excitement as he climbed our low side and stepped in on

deck, casting quick, anxious glances about him as he did so. When,

however, his gaze encountered me--I was wearing my uniform cap at the

moment--his anxiety appeared to subside to a considerable extent, and he

at once doffed his hat as he made me a sweeping bow, exclaiming at the

same time--

"Bon jour, monsieur! Have I ze honour to address an officer of Grand

Bretagne?"

"Yes, sir, you have, if you choose to put the matter that way," I

replied. "This vessel is his Britannic Majesty's schooner _Curlew_, late

the _Don Cristoval_; and my name is Farmer. Am I correct in supposing

that you have boarded me because you stand in need of assistance?"

"Ah, oui, monsieur, it is so," was the reply, given with much

gesticulation. "I have been hoping to fall in wiz a Breetish man-o'-war

evaire since I have sailed from ze Congo; it is two day since.

Saire"--here the fellow's excitement began to grow upon him again--"I

desire revenge! I have been rob, saire, by one rascal pirate who come

alongside my leetle sheep, as I sail out of ze Congo; he board me,

saire, with un bateau full of men, arm to ze teeth, as you Angleesh say,

and he take from me all my cargo of ivory and caoutchouc, leaving me wiz

only my leetle eighty barrel of palm-oil. Saire, I am ruin unless you

will get back my ivory and caoutchouc for me!"

"I shall be very pleased to do my best for you, certainly, if you can

put me on the track of the pirates who robbed you," answered I. "Where

did they go after they had cleared you out?"

"Saire," answered the Frenchman eagerly, "dhey did sail right into ze

Congo river, where dhey are doubtless now shipping a cargo of esclaves.

I know ze sheep well, for I have often see her when I have been waiting

for my ivory to come down."

"Oh!" exclaimed I interestedly, "so she is a slaver as well as a pirate,

is she?"

"Yais, yais, pirate and slavaire both, monsieur," answered the

Frenchman. "She is a large--what you call, eh?--un--un-_barque_--oui,

monsieur, a barque call ze _Josefa_, commande par un coquin----"

"The _Josefa_?" interrupted I. "Are you quite sure of what you say,

monsieur?"

"Oui, oui, monsieur," answered the fellow, "I am quite certaine; I have

made no mistake; I know ze barque well as I know my own poor leetle

_Muette_. I am not likely to make ze mistake when they have rob me of

all my ivory and caoutchouc!"

"Very well, sir," responded I; "I will make a bargain with you. Guide us

to where you suppose the _Josefa_ to be; and should I find her with your

assistance, I promise you that you shall have all the ivory and

caoutchouc that we may find on board her."

The man clasped his hands rapturously. "Bon, mon cher monsieur; bon!" he

exclaimed. "It is ze bargain; it is agreed!"

"Then that is all right," I remarked. "And now, monsieur, having made

our bargain, I shall be very pleased if you will do me the honour to

remain on board and dine with me; we can then talk over matters a little

more in detail, and you can explain to me where the _Josefa_ is to be

found."

The Frenchman--who, by the way, now introduced himself to me as "Capitan

St. Croix"--at once accepted my invitation; having done which, he sent

his boat back to the felucca, with instructions to his mate to make sail

and keep close in our wake, whereupon we filled upon the schooner and

resumed our course to the southward.

By the time that dinner was served in our hot, stuffy little cabin that

evening, I had succeeded in extracting from M. St. Croix the information

that the _Josefa_ would be found concealed in a certain creek of the

Congo, which had been so thoroughly fortified as to be practically

impregnable. This was bad news; moreover, I found it a little difficult

to clearly follow some of St. Croix' descriptions; but by the time that

he left me that night to return to his felucca, I had learned enough to

clearly understand that I must depend upon stratagem rather than force

for success.

All this threw me into a perfect fever of impatience to get back to the

river, which was not lessened when I discovered that the wretched little

felucca seemed incapable of doing anything better than five knots under

the most favourable conditions that we were likely to meet with on our

voyage. I stood it for twenty-four hours, during which we in the

schooner jogged along under nothing but a double-reefed mainsail, fore

staysail, and jib, in order that we might not run away from our

slow-moving consort; and then my impatience so far mastered me that I

proposed to St. Croix that he should take up his quarters aboard the

_Curlew_--as we had renamed the _Don Cristoval_--and leave the felucca

to follow at her leisure. For two whole days the Frenchman obdurately

rejected my proposal; but on the third my perseverance triumphed, and

late in the afternoon we parted company with the _Muette_, having St.

Croix on board the schooner, and with him one of his Krumen--who, he

assured me, knew every creek on the river, from Shark Point up to

Boma--and a small canoe, which I understood him to say would be an

absolute necessity if we wished for success in our hazardous attempt.

We arrived off the mouth of the river on the following evening, about

half-an-hour before sunset, and, nothing being in sight, at once stood

in to make the entrance. The sky was overcast, and the night promised to

be dark; but this was all in our favour, since the darkness would help

to conceal our presence, while the mouth of the river being free from

dangers, we could easily feel our way in with the lead.

Fortunately for my impatience, a fresh breeze happened to be blowing

from the westward; we therefore crowded sail upon the schooner, and,

despite the strong current, fetched up abreast of Shark Point about

three bells in the first watch, when we rounded to and came to a single

anchor in three fathoms in Diego Bay, just inside the river's mouth.

In accordance with the plans which I had already made, it now became

necessary for me to leave the schooner, and to accompany St. Croix on a

reconnoitring expedition which I was given to understand would occupy

the whole of the next day, and, including the time necessary to return

to the schooner, a good part of the succeeding night. I had not made up

my mind to this very decisive step without due consideration, for I

fully recognised the exceedingly perilous character of the adventure;

but I felt convinced, from all St. Croix had told me, that my only hope

of success lay in taking the _Josefa_ and the slave factory by

surprise--so preventing the possibility of the slaves being driven off

to a place of safe hiding at the first alarm--and, to accomplish this

surprise successfully, it was absolutely necessary that I should make

myself fully acquainted, by personal observation, with every feature of

the position. Attiring myself, therefore, in an old suit of slops, I

embarked, with St. Croix and his Kruman, in the small canoe, leaving

the schooner in charge of young Adams; when, under the impulse of a

small sail, we shoved off and sped rapidly in the darkness up the river.

CHAPTER IV

TRAPPED!

The Kruman who acted as pilot undoubtedly appeared--as St. Croix had

asserted--to know the river thoroughly, for dark as the night was, he

evinced no sign whatever of doubt or hesitation. Perched up in the stern

of the canoe--which he steered with a short paddle laid out over the

quarter--he sat silent and motionless as a bronze image, holding the

boat's head straight for some unseen point, and never swerving a

hair's-breadth from his course until, at the expiration of about two

hours, we suddenly found ourselves entering a tolerably wide creek, only

distinguishable as such by the deeper and more palpable darkness that

enveloped us as the canoe slid in between its bush-lined banks. We were

a taciturn trio, St. Croix having scarcely uttered a word since we

shoved off from the schooner; while as for me, my thoughts were too full

of the adventure before me to leave me much inclination for speech.

We navigated this winding creek for about three quarters of an hour,

passing several branches on our way, and then, as the Kruman brought the

canoe noiselessly alongside a low, gravelly bank, St. Croix leaned

forward, and, laying his hand upon mine, remarked in a whisper--

"We land here, mon ami; the remainder of our journey we must perform on

our feet if we desire not our throats to be cut. Tread cautiously, for

ze bush it is full of snakes!"

That was a pleasant little item of news, truly, to be told on a dark

night while feeling one's way along a bush path so narrow and so

overgrown that the darkness was absolutely a thing _to be felt_! But it

was a part of the adventure, so I murmured an acknowledgment of the

caution and stepped over the gunwale of the canoe on to the bank, the

gravel of which crunched under my feet with alarming loudness in the

oppressive silence of the hot, damp night. As I did so, St. Croix said

something to the Kruman in a language which I did not understand, and

the next instant I received a crashing blow on the head from some hard,

heavy instrument, a thousand stars danced before my eyes as I reeled

forward under the impact of the stroke, and then I knew no more.

When I recovered consciousness, the first thing of which I became aware

was that I was suffering from a splitting headache; the next, that I was

again afloat, for I could hear the soft gurgle of water close to my ear

on either side; and the next, that it was still as dark as ever. I was

occupying a very cramped and uncomfortable position, lying on my right

side, or shoulder, rather, with my hands behind me, and my legs doubled

up so that my heels seemed to be tucked into the small of my back; but,

upon attempting to move, I made the unwelcome discovery that I was

lashed hard and fast, hands and heels together. Then, before my

bemuddled brain had time to do more than suggest an inquiry as to what

had happened, I heard St. Croix' voice.

Thereupon I spoke. "Are you there, St. Croix?" I inquired.

"Ay, I _am_ here!" he answered, in a tone curiously suggestive of

exultation.

"What has happened?" I next demanded.

"Happened?" he reiterated. "Why, you have simply fallen into ze

tr-r-r-ap zat I set for you, scélérat, and are now in my power!"

"Your power?" I repeated. "I don't understand. Pray explain yourself.

But, first of all, if you are free yourself, just cast off these

lashings of mine, will you? They hurt most abominably!"

"Ha! ha! zhey hurt, do zhey?" he retorted. "Bon! so much ze better-r-r;

I am glad! Listen, mon bon capitan! I am not Jules St. Croix at all; I

am Jules Lenoir, ze elder brother of ze man you killed vhen you capture

ze _Don Cristoval_, and I am also ze capitan of ze _Josefa_! Vhen I hear

zhat my brother vhas kill, I svear zhat I vill have my revanche; and

vhen ve hear zhat you have capture ze _St. Iago_ and ze _Mercedes_" (the

brigantine) "it vhas agree zhat you make yourself too troublesome, and

zhat you must be remove out of our way. So I plan vone leetle plan, and

go to sea in ze _Muette_ to look for you; and behold! here you are!"

"So!" ejaculated I; "I begin to understand. And, now that you have me,

pray what are you going to do with me? Murder me?"

"Non! non!" answered my captor, "I vill not stain my hands vith your

dirty blood; I vill make a present of you to my good friend King Plenty.

He vill know vhat to do vith you!"

King Plenty! I had heard of him as a most ferocious savage inhabiting a

spot on one of the creeks on the southern bank of the river, a potentate

who, thanks to his dealings with the slavers, had accumulated a vast

store of wealth in the shape of rum, muskets, and ammunition, and who,

with the aid of the two latter, had become quite a power among his

neighbour kings. Naturally, therefore, the objects of his deepest and

most concentrated hatred were those pestilent white men who were making

such strenuous efforts to suppress the slave-trade; and it was rumoured

that when, at rare intervals, one of these hated beings had the

misfortune to fall into his hands, the event was celebrated by a

festivity the principal feature of which consisted in putting the

captive to death with every refinement of torture that the savage

imagination could devise. And this was the individual into whose power

I was to be delivered, bound hand and foot!

And this--a cruel, lingering death at the stake, most probably--was to

be the end of all the high hopes and aspirations with which I had

entered upon this disastrous adventure! What a fool I had been to allow

myself to be so easily trapped, I reflected; and yet when I recalled all

that had passed between this villain Lenoir and myself, I could remember

no single word or look in the least calculated to arouse my suspicion;

the whole plot had been woven with such diabolical skill, the story told

had been so cunningly plausible, that, as it seemed to me, no man

anxious to do his duty could fail to have been caught by it. Well, I

could at least die game; I would not disgrace myself and my cloth by

showing fear or pleading for mercy; and, having come to this resolution,

I turned a deaf ear to all the revilings, the sneers, and the brutal

jocosities to which Lenoir treated me. Then, just as day was breaking, I

suddenly became aware of a group of tall trees towering overhead, and

the next instant the canoe gently grounded on a sandy beach. Lenoir at

once sprang to his feet and shouted something in a language that I did

not understand; and presently a great crowd of jabbering savages came

swarming round the canoe, and I was lifted out and carried off to a

palm-leaf hut, upon the floor of which I was unceremoniously flung. But

in the short interval of my transit from the canoe to the hut I managed

to catch a fleeting glimpse of a broad creek, with the _Josefa_ and a

schooner at anchor on its placid bosom, a native town of probably a

hundred and fifty huts, and two immense barracoons standing under the

shadow of a clump of enormously tall trees. Lenoir quickly followed me

into the hut, to examine my lashings, turning me over unceremoniously

with his foot to do so; when, having satisfied himself that I was

absolutely secure, he walked out again without uttering a word.

I was now left undisturbed for about a couple of hours, during which I

strove my utmost to loosen my lashings; but I might as well have striven

to fly, I was bound with new ratline, and it had been drawn so tight and

knotted so securely that I was as helpless as though chained.

All this while I was conscious of the sounds of many feet passing to and

fro outside the hut, and of a perfect babel of jabbering, excited

tongues; and at length a couple of natives entered the hut and by

significant gestures indicated that I was to rise and follow them. But,

bound as I was, the thing was impossible; so after prodding me

ineffectually several times with their spears they cut my feet loose,

and, seizing me by the arms, half led, half dragged me from the hut.

Once in the open air, I was immediately surrounded by a crowd of

laughing, shouting, gesticulating savages, who seemed to be vastly

entertained by my helpless appearance--for my limbs had become so

completely benumbed by the tightness of my bonds that I had no feeling

or strength in them. Thus surrounded, I was dragged for about a quarter

of mile to a great open space in the centre of the town, and there

securely bound to the trunk of an immense tree, the scorched, blackened,

and leafless branches of which told me only too well to what fiendish

purpose it was from time to time put. And here for the remainder of that

terrible day I was kept bare-headed, exposed to the full blaze of the

relentless sun, without either food or drink, while the natives swarmed

round me, discussing with great delight and animation what from their

looks and gestures I divined to be the subject of my approaching

torments.

What my sufferings, mental and physical, were during those few brief

hours, language has no words to express; but you may guess something

of what it was when I tell you that at last I actually _longed_ for

death to come to my relief, although I was well aware that the death for

which I longed was to be one of fiery torment!

[Illustration: "A gang of some fifty negroes appeared."]

At length, when the sun had declined to within about two hours of his

setting, a gang of some fifty negroes appeared, each bearing either a

heavy log or a large bundle of brushwood upon his shoulder, which they

forthwith began to arrange in a wide circle round the tree to which I

was bound. These fellows were speedily followed by others similarly

burdened, so that within half-an-hour I was hemmed in by a compact wall

of logs and brushwood standing about breast-high. I needed no

explanation of these sinister preparations; but, that I might be left in

no possible doubt, Lenoir made his appearance outside the barrier, over

which he shouted the intelligence that some time that night it would be

fired, and, when well ablaze, would be gradually pushed forward, so that

I might be slowly roasted to death!

The heat that afternoon was positively frightful, for the wind died away

to a breathless calm, and while the savages were building my funeral

pyre, I noticed the upper edge of a great bank of purple-grey cloud

soaring gradually into the western heavens, and spreading as it soared,

the sure precursor of one of those terrific thunder-storms to which the

Congo district is subject at certain periods of the year; so that, as I

reflected dismally, I was likely to go to my fiery doom in a

sufficiently picturesque and dramatic manner. When the sun at length

plunged behind this livid curtain, the latter had spread in a crescent

shape until a full quarter of the firmament was obscured, and I observed

that it was rising and spreading with great rapidity.

The darkness gathered early that night, and as it did so the savages

provided themselves with torches, gathering in such vast numbers round

the circle of combustibles that hemmed me in that it soon became almost

as light as day again, although not so light but that I could detect

through the yellow, smoky glare the flickering lightnings wherewith the

coming storm heralded its approach.

By-and-by the slow, measured beat of a tom-tom became audible through

the noisy chattering of the vast crowd that had gathered about me, and

immediately the excited jabbering subsided into an almost breathless

silence. Then another tom-tom joined in, and another, and another, until

there must have been a full dozen of them going, the beating becoming

momentarily more rapid, until my throbbing brain fairly reeled with the

giddy sounds, above which the low, sullen rumble of distant thunder now

made itself heard. Presently I became aware, by the increasing loudness

of the savage music, that the tom-tom beaters were approaching, and two

or three minutes later they wheeled into the open space in front of me,

and squatted down upon their haunches, with their tom-toms--now being

most furiously beaten--between their knees. They were followed by about

a hundred men fully armed with spear and shield, in the midst of which,

borne aloft on a sort of rude throne supported upon the shoulders of

eight stalwart negroes, sat an enormously fat man, black as ebony, naked

save for a leopard skin apron about his loins, armed with some

half-dozen long, broad-bladed, cruel-looking spears. This potentate,

whom I rightly surmised to be King Plenty, halted his bearers square in

front of me, scrutinised me curiously, and with a savage leer of delight

upon his bloated features, for fully ten minutes. Then he made a sign by

raising his right hand in the air, and on the instant some thirty or

forty savages sprang forward with a shout and thrust their blazing

torches into the heart of the combustibles by which I was surrounded.

"Thank God," thought I, "it will soon be over now!" and I only regretted

that there was no wind to blow the smoke my way and suffocate me out of

my misery. But the air was breathless, and the brown wreaths of pungent

smoke went curling straight upward to the black heavens in an unbroken

circle.

Meanwhile the storm was gathering apace; the lightning was rapidly

becoming more vivid and frequent; the thunder louder, deeper, and nearer

every moment; and I remember wondering whether the fire, when fully

ignited, would have power enough to withstand the pelting torrents of

rain that would by-and-by come, and whether I should be still alive to

feel its refreshing coolness.

[Illustration: "Borne aloft on a sort of rude throne supported upon the

shoulders of eight stalwart negroes."]

But, rapidly as grew the storm, the fire grew more rapidly--for the

savages had been careful to collect only thoroughly dry wood--and within

ten minutes of its ignition the zone of flame which encircled me had

become a roaring furnace, giving out an amount of heat that was already

scarcely endurable, while fresh supplies of wood were being thrown upon

the blazing pile, and the savages were pushing it slowly inward toward

me with long poles.

Another ten minutes and I could tell by the smell that my clothing was

scorching on my body, while the skin of my face and hands began to

blister here and there under the influence of the fierce heat that now

played upon me, and the air that I breathed burnt my nostrils like

flame. The tom-toms were still being furiously beaten, the lightning was

flashing and quivering continuously athwart the black heavens, and the

thunder was booming overhead like the salvoes of artillery from hostile

fleets in close action, but I was only dimly conscious of it all. I had

attention for but one thing--the fierce, intolerable heat that played

about me, searing my eyeballs, and leaping toward me in long, crackling

tongues of roaring flame that momentarily threatened to envelop me as a

garment.

I was tottering upon the very verge of insensibility--or was it

death?--when I was aroused by the splashing of a few heavy drops of

delicious coolness upon my upturned, blistering face; another breathless

moment, during which a terrific flash of sun-bright lightning clove the

darkness and dimmed even the fierce light of the flames that encompassed

me, and down came the rain in true tropical style, a perfect cascade of

sweet, tepid water that in an instant drenched me to the skin, and

revived me as though the shower had been the very elixir of life. I

opened my mouth and allowed the blessed drops to fall upon my cracked

lips and parched tongue; and so great was the refreshment of them that I

actually forgot the fire that roared and crackled and hissed about me!

In a moment I found myself enveloped in a dense cloud of steam, through

which the leaping flames flickered and dwindled, growing less and less,

until, almost before I had time to realise what was happening, the fire

was extinguished, and I found myself plunged in darkness and silence,

save for the frequent glare of the lightning, and the almost continuous

crash of the thunder. The storm having extinguished the fire, the

natives had beaten a hasty retreat to their huts, leaving me to the

tender mercies of the elements. A few minutes later, however--by which

time the storm was raging furiously, thunder and lightning, wind and

rain, seeming to be striving together in one tremendous effort of

destruction--Lenoir, wet to the skin, and with the rain literally

streaming off him, suddenly appeared beside me, and in another moment I

felt him trying my lashings. Apparently they were secure enough to

satisfy him, for presently he came round in front of me, and, watching

me by the continuous flickering glare of the lightning, remarked--

"So ho, mon ami, how do you like dis after your roasting? Quite cool and

refreshing, eh? Ah, but perhaps it is _too_ cool! Veil, nevaire mind,

mon cher, it vill not last long; ze sun vill rise again to-morrow and

warm you, and to-morrow night ze good King Plenty he vill light anoder

fire for you! You vill not mind staying here all night, eh? No, of

course not. But I--I am afraid of ze fevaire, so I vill go aboard, dry

myself, and turn in; because, you see, dere is a big cargo of esclaves

coming down for me to-morrow, and aftaire I have shipped dem I vill only

stay to see ze last of you, and den I vill be off. Bon soir, mon cher! A

pleasant night and happy dreams I vish you!"

And, so saying, he bowed ironically, and disappeared in the darkness.

I was, however, not destined to endure the sufferings to which this

scoundrel so exultingly looked forward; for scarcely had he disappeared

when I became aware of the presence of another visitor. I suddenly felt

that some one was manipulating the lashings that Lenoir had so

carefully scrutinised a few minutes previously, and presently, to my

inexpressible surprise and delight, I discovered that I was free. At the

same moment a small, soft hand grasped mine, and gently drew me round to

the other side of the tree, where I found myself confronted by a young

native girl, who promptly intimated the necessity for caution by placing

her finger on her lips. We waited where we were for a few seconds, until

an unusually vivid flash of lightning rendered the whole scene as bright

as day, and then, in the opaque darkness that followed, I felt myself

being led swiftly out of the circle of half-burnt logs into the

concealing shadows of a dense clump of bush that grew at no great

distance. Here we paused again for a few brief seconds, taking advantage

of the short and uncertain intervals of darkness that followed the

lightning flashes to flit from clump to clump of bush, until in a few

minutes we found ourselves deep in the heart of the bush, secure from

discovery by prying eyes, and moving rapidly along a bush path that I

presently discovered was winding round toward the river. Ten minutes

later we emerged upon a small strip of sandy beach occupying the angle

of a bend of the creek, about a hundred yards or so above the spot where

I must have been landed, for _below_ me I just caught sight indistinctly

of the _Josefa_ and the schooner, riding dark and silent on the

rain-lashed bosom of the creek. There were a dozen or more canoes, of

different sizes, drawn up on this strip of beach, and, selecting the

smallest of them, my companion slid it gently into the water. Then

motioning me to enter, she placed a paddle in my hand, pointed _up_ the

creek, and with a vigorous push sent the canoe surging a dozen yards

toward mid-channel, motioning me to paddle hard. I lost no time in

obeying her behest, paddling first on one side and then on the other,

and managing the canoe with little or no difficulty. As soon as my

deliverer saw that I was all right, she waved her hand above her head

by way of farewell, and at once disappeared into the bush again.

[Illustration: "She waved her hand above her head by way of farewell."]

I was by this time chilled to the marrow with the drenching to which I

had been exposed, and so stiff from being tightly lashed for so many

hours that I could scarcely move, while I was still dazed at my sudden

and unexpected deliverance from a cruel death; nevertheless I had sense

enough to understand that my situation was still one of the utmost

peril, out of which I must extricate myself without loss of time, so I

paddled away with all the vigour I could muster, and presently had the

satisfaction of shutting in the _Josefa_ and her consort round the bend

of the creek, without the occurrence of anything to indicate that my

escape had been discovered. The exertion of paddling soon restored my

circulation, and I made fairly rapid way down the creek, observing, by

the glare of the lightning, that the waterway broadened rapidly as I

went. I kept on thus for about twenty minutes, and then, to my great

joy, discovered that I was nearing some very considerable expanse of

water, which a few minutes of further paddling convinced me must be

nothing less than the main stream of the Congo, into which I presently

shot. But at the junction of the creek with the main stream I sheered

the canoe in alongside the bank, and, holding on by the branches of an

overhanging bush, securely lashed my pocket-handkerchief to a bough in

such a manner that it could readily be seen at some considerable

distance. Then I shoved off again and turned the canoe's head down

stream.

The wind was blowing more than half a gale by this time, but it was

fortunately from the southward, so that by hugging the southern bank

pretty closely I was fairly well sheltered; and fortunate was it for me

that it was so, for at the distance of a quarter of a mile from the bank

the whole surface of the river was a boiling caldron of breaking seas,

that would have swamped the canoe in five minutes. I managed fairly

well, however, venturing as far out as I dared, so as to secure the

utmost benefit possible from the strong downward current; and so well

did this befriend me that in little more than an hour and a half I

sighted the _Curlew_ riding at anchor where I had left her; and in

another ten minutes I once more stood on her deck, free and _safe_!

Late as was the hour, I found everybody wide awake and on the look-out

aboard the schooner, with young Adams, clad from head to heel in

oilskins, anxiously pacing the deck--for, although I was by no means

overdue, he informed me that he was already growing extremely anxious as

to my safety--and it was pleasant, indeed, to observe the air of relief

that seemed to pervade the ship upon the discovery that I had returned

safe, and apparently not much the worse for wear. I quickly told my

story, and, ere I had well finished it, all hands were on deck, and,

without waiting for orders, were busying themselves in getting the

schooner under way; and from a few muttered remarks that I overheard I

gathered that the men had made up their minds to visit with dire

retribution the treachery that had involved me in such deadly peril and

suffering. Adams--spirited lad that he was--implored me to go below and

turn in, pledging himself faithfully that not one of the slavers should

escape him; but, of course, that was not to be thought of for a moment,

so I contented myself with a change of clothing and a fairly hearty meal

off the viands that the steward had immediately produced, and then

returned on deck to take charge.

By the time that I was once more in the open air the schooner was under

way and foaming up the river under all the canvas she dared show to the

piping breeze. The rain had ceased, the storm had swept across the river

and was now flashing and muttering intermittently some seven or eight

miles away, and a few stars were peeping out here and there overhead

and to the southward. It took the schooner but half-an-hour to traverse,

against the current, the distance that I had taken three times as long

to cover in the canoe, and I had not been on deck many minutes when a

hail came from the forecastle of--

"There's somethin' white flutterin' from a bough in-shore there on our

starboard bow! Is that your handkercher, sir?"

"Likely enough," I answered, peering over the rail at the dark shadow to

windward. "Can you see anything like the opening of a creek near it?"

"Yes, sir," came the answer; "there's a blackness just to the east'ard

of it that looks like a break in the bushes."

"Then that will be it," I remarked to young Adams. "Ay, I can see the

handkerchief now--there it is! Clew up and furl your topsail, Mr. Adams,

and settle away the peak and throat of your boom foresail. Ready about!"

The men sprang to their stations; the topsail and foresail were taken

in; the schooner was hove round on the port tack, and two or three

minutes later we were gliding up the creek under mainsail and jib, with

the wind scuffling wildly overhead among the bush and trees that

bordered the creek on either hand. Once fairly within the creek, I

ordered the remainder of our canvas to be taken in, feeling assured that

the schooner would hold her way long enough to carry us alongside the

_Josefa_; and, this done, the men, with drawn cutlasses, stood by to

heave the grappling-irons and board, my hope being that I should take

both craft by surprise. But as we rounded the bend in the creek which

brought us within sight of our quarry, a low hum and clamour of voices

became audible, and a glare of torches shone through the bushes from the

shore; moreover, the creek was full of canoes paddling excitedly hither

and thither. Unless I was greatly mistaken, my escape had been

discovered, and the savages were all out in pursuit of me.

[Illustration: "Before he could pull the trigger I had struck up the

weapon."]

A great shout went up from the occupants of the canoes as the schooner

glided round the bend, and there was an instant and general retreat

toward the shore. There was also a sudden shouting and confusion aboard

the barque and the schooner; but before anything could be done we were

alongside and fast to the _Josefa_, with our lads pouring over her rail

after me. The first individual I encountered was Lenoir, who was raving

at his crew like a madman in an unavailing effort to rally them. Upon

seeing me he snatched a pistol from his belt and levelled it at my head,

but before he could pull the trigger I had struck up the weapon, and the

next instant he crashed to the deck, struck senseless by a blow fair

between the eyes which I let him have with all the energy and good-will

of which I was capable. That settled the matter so far as the _Josefa_

was concerned, for her crew, taken by surprise, could do nothing against

our people, they simply retreated to their forecastle and were there

promptly battened down. Nor did the schooner fare any better, for

although her people cut her cables and tried to get the canvas on her,

young Adams--who with a few men remained by my orders on board the

_Curlew_ to take care of her--at once opened fire with his larboard

broadside with such effect that her people were compelled to run her

ashore to save her from sinking under them. They made good their escape

into the forest, but we set fire to the schooner and burned her to the

water's edge. As for King Plenty and his people, they evacuated their

town at the first sound of the firing; but as soon as I had secured the

_Josefa's_ people I landed with a party of bluejackets, and we burned

the slave barracoons and the King's "palace"--a collection of some

thirty huts surrounded by a strong palisade. I felt sorely tempted to

destroy the entire town, but refrained for the sake of the girl who had

taken compassion upon my helplessness and set me free.

Five days later we arrived at Sierra Leone with the _Josefa_ in company,

and in due course the latter was condemned and her crew committed for

trial. But I knew nothing of it, having succumbed to a sharp attack of

fever within a few hours of clearing the Congo; and when I regained my

senses it was to find myself in hospital, weak as a new-born babe, but

high in favour with everybody for what they were pleased to term my

"dashing exploit," and with my commission as commander in my pocket.

Lenoir and nine of his companions were subsequently hanged for piracy

and murder upon the high seas upon evidence of the most convincing

character.

ON A MEXICAN RANCHE

BY G. A. HENTY

There were few wider estates in Texas than that of Don Garcia Novales.

It lay on the western frontier, and indeed nearly half of it lay on the

Mexican side of the frontier line. Thousands of horses and tens of

thousands of cattle ranged over its broad expanse. It is true that, with

few exceptions, the whole of these animals were almost, if not quite

wild. That was indeed rather an advantage, as they gave but little

trouble to their owners till the time came when they were wanted for the

market. Ten years before they were almost valueless, for there were no

purchasers; but with the severance of Texas from Mexico a great change

had taken place. American enterprise was changing the whole state of

things. Capitalists were taking up great tracts of hitherto almost

useless land, purchasing the titles for a trifle from the Mexican

owners, and stocking them with cattle which they purchased from great

ranches like that of Don Garcia Novales.

Speculators bought herds to drive east into the border States, breaking

them up and disposing of them by scores or hundreds to settlers there.

The animals, therefore, which had hitherto been so valueless that they

had scarcely been reckoned as one of the sources of income of their

owner, now became an important item in his possessions. Don Garcia

himself would gladly have dispensed with the addition. Like most of his

countrymen, he hated the men who had disturbed the sleepy tranquillity

of life in Texas. His income from his tobacco plantations, his mines in

Mexico, the hides, and his cotton-fields, was larger than sufficed for

his needs. His table was supplied from the estates. Horses, when

required, could be lassoed, brought in, and broken in in any numbers.

Indian corn, rice, sugar, the chief items of food of the slaves, were

all raised on the estates, while meat was forthcoming to any amount.

Save for dresses and jewels for his daughter, and a few imported

luxuries, such as wine, the calls upon his purse were insignificant.

The changes, then, that went on were a source of almost unmixed

annoyance: there were complaints from his herdsmen, of cattle being

driven off by parties of reckless whites; disputes arose with the

cowboys of an American company which had purchased a large tract of land

to the north, and more than one fray had taken place between his peons

and their men, owing to the cattle of one or other party straying beyond

their limits and getting mixed with those of their neighbour. He had, so

far refused to resort to the method adopted by many other Mexican

proprietors, of engaging several white overlookers and cowboys. These

were paid but a small salary, but were given a fixed proportion--a third

or a fourth--of the increase of the herds they looked after. It was

therefore to their interest to guard them closely, and to protect them

both from cattle-stealers and from the cowboys of other ranches. It was

found that much trouble was saved by this method, and quarrels avoided

with their unwelcome neighbours, while the profits were larger than

those made when matters were looked after by the indolent natives. Don

Garcia had for some time refused to adopt this method; but he hated

trouble, and there were such constant complaints of theft from his herds

that he began to feel that it would be necessary to adopt the practice,

at any rate on the northern part of his estates. He had now, with his

daughter, been paying a visit to a friend whose estate lay eighty miles

to the south. The trip had its business side. Don Ramon de Vaga had a

son, and the two fathers had agreed that an alliance between their

houses would be a desirable matter.

[Illustration: "Horses, when required, could be lassoed."]

Some months before, Don Ramon and his son Don Pedro had paid a visit to

the ranche of Don Garcia, but the result had not been altogether

satisfactory. Pedro, a hot-headed young fellow who had never been

thwarted in a single wish, had indeed been greatly struck with Isabella

Novales. But the young señora had by no means been favourably impressed

with him; his temper was an ungovernable one, and the violence with

which on two or three occasions he treated his grooms for some trifling

act of disobedience or forgetfulness, had excited her indignation and

disgust. In her home, slaves were kindly treated; her father was of easy

temper; he was proud of his race, which was of the purest Spanish,

without the admixture of a single drop of Indian blood, and very proud

of his daughter. He would have resented any slight upon the part of his

equals; but so that everything went on with its usual regularity at the

hacienda, he was content, and left its entire management to his

major-domo, Sancho Valdez, in whom he had implicit confidence.

The return visit was intended to undo the bad effect of the first. Don

Ramon had assured his friend that he had spoken very strongly to his

son, and pointed out to him that unless he put some restraint on

himself, there was no probability that the match on which he had already

set his mind would come off. Their visit, however, had not been

altogether a success. Don Pedro had been most attentive to Isabella, and

had studiously kept his temper in check; but the girl saw plainly enough

that the slaves were all in the greatest fear of him, and that they

shrunk as if expecting a blow when he addressed them.

"It is no use, father," she said one day before the termination of the

visit, when she was alone with Don Garcia, "for you to promise my hand

to Don Pedro; nothing could induce me to marry him. I would rather a

thousand times enter a convent, though I have always thought that

anything would be better than a life between four walls, brought up as I

have been, to mount my horse and gallop across the country as I choose;

but even that would be preferable to a life with Don Pedro. He is

handsome and can be agreeable, but he is a tyrant among his own people,

and I should be most wretched; and I am convinced that the idea had

better be altogether abandoned."

Isabella was now between fourteen and fifteen, an age at which girls are

not unfrequently married in Mexico, where they reach maturity some years

younger than among Northern people. She was strikingly pretty, even for

one of her race and age, and bade fair to be a beautiful woman in

another year or two. She had lost her mother when she was but a year

old, and had been the constant companion of her father from the time

when she had learnt to sit on a quiet pony. By the time she was ten she

could ride any broken horse on the estate, and was absolutely fearless

in the saddle. Thus, while her figure retained the grace so general

among the women of her race, her life in the open air had given it a

firmness and vigour rare among them. She was a good shot with the rifle,

and was often away on horseback with her dogs from early morning until

dusk, when she would return with her game slung from the saddle behind

her.

Her position as the young mistress of the hacienda, within whose wide

limits she reigned as a little queen, and her close intercourse with her

father, had given her a certain decision and firmness in strong contrast

to the languor and love of careless ease of Mexican girls. She was

acquainted with every man on the estate, and was so thoroughly

acquainted with its working, that her father frequently consulted her as

to any changes he proposed making in the arrangements; and when she

affirmed, with even more than her usual decision, that nothing could

induce her to marry Don Pedro de Vaga, her father acquiesced in her

decision, saying--

[Illustration: "Was often away on horseback with her dogs."]

"Well, Isabella, if that is so, there is an end of the matter. I own

that I am not myself altogether pleased with the young man. When I gave

my word to his father that he should marry you, it was some years ago,

and it appeared a very suitable match in all respects; but I guarded

myself by saying that 'while I agree most heartily, Don Ramon, to your

proposal, and will do all in my power to bring the match about, I say

fairly that I have made up my mind that when the child comes to an age

to know her own mind, I shall in no way force her inclination. My

estates now are larger than one man can well manage, and it is not to

increase them that I would marry my daughter to your son, but because

you and I are old friends, and that I would gladly see our families

united by a closer bond; therefore, while I will in every way further

your son's suit, I will put no force upon her should she in time, though

I have little fear of such a thing happening, feel repugnance to the

match.'"

"Thank you, father. I am sorry indeed that in this case I cannot do as

you would wish me, but Don Pedro is absolutely hateful to me; he is a

tyrant, and I would rather pass my life as the poorest peon on the

estate than trust myself to him. I believe him to be capable of

anything, and the very thought of a life spent with him frightens me."

"Well, we will say no more about it, dear. I have already told Don Ramon

that I feared it could never be, but I am sorry to say that my old

friend would not take the refusal as final, and insisted that it was but

a girlish freak on your part, and that in time you would come to look at

matters more sensibly."

"Well, father, he will get the same answer whenever he comes, and the

more seldom he comes the better I shall be pleased; but if he came once

a month until I am a hundred, his answer would be always the same."

"At any rate, Isabel, we must receive him hospitably when he comes. I

could not all at once explain the full extent of your dislike of the

match to Don Ramon, and though I said that I did not think that you

would alter your mind, I told him that at any rate his son would be

welcome when he came, and if as time went on you should look more

favourably on his suit, that matters could go on as we proposed. An

abrupt statement of your views would have led to an estrangement between

the families, which would be very painful to me, and I should be sorry

indeed to have a quarrel with my old friend. In time I will write to him

and tell him that your resolve is immovable."

Don Garcia and his daughter started on their return journey in the

family carriage drawn by six mules. Isabella's maid sat on the box with

the driver, and four well-armed servants rode beside it. On the second

day of the journey, as they were passing through a wood in a narrow

valley, a shot was fired, and one of the servants fell from his horse;

it was followed by a scattered discharge, and six men sprang out from

the trees. Another of the servants was shot, the other two were pulled

from their horses, while a man climbing on to the box with a pistol in

his hand compelled the driver to alight and lie down in the road. The

Spaniard and his daughter were then ordered to alight. As the former's

pistols were unloaded, he was forced to obey, and was in the act of

handing Isabella out when the sound of a horse's tread at full gallop

was heard, and a moment later a young man dashed up. He was armed with a

revolver, at that time a novel weapon; the pistol cracked twice, and two

of the Mexicans fell, both shot through the head. Their companions with

loud imprecations rushed at him, discharging their pistols and drawing

their knives. He shifted the revolver to his left hand, and two more of

the Mexicans fell, while the others with a shout of terror plunged into

the wood.

"You had better loose your servants, señor," the young man said quietly.

"I don't think the fellows will return; but it is as well to be prepared

for them, and just at present I am not up to further fighting."

The Don at once released the two servants, and angrily commanded the

maid, who had been screaming loudly from the moment the first shot was

fired, to be silent; gave the coachman a kick and told him to rise, and

then turned to thank their rescuer. He had dismounted and was leaning

against his horse, and Isabella was eagerly inquiring as to his injury.

"Do not alarm yourself, señora," he replied, "it is of no consequence.

My right arm is broken by a pistol bullet, and I have got another

somewhere near my hip, I think; but do not trouble about me. I know

some people a few miles away, and shall manage to get there somehow."

"I cannot think of such a thing, señor," Don Garcia said; "you have most

nobly saved us from a great peril, and I cannot dream of leaving you

here. You take your place in the carriage again, Isabella. I will see to

this gentleman's wounds; I have had some experience that way, as you

know."

The arm was broken a short distance above the elbow. By Don Garcia's

direction the coachman cut a strip of bark a foot long from a tree some

four inches in diameter. The wound was first carefully bandaged, and

then laid in the case of bark, which was tightly wound round it; a

similar piece of bark was used as a sling to the forearm. To the other

wound, which was an inch or two in front of the hip, nothing could be

done save applying a bandage to stop the bleeding, which was, however,

but slight.

"Now, señor," he said, "you must let us place you in my coach. I am Don

Garcia de Novales; my hacienda is three days' journey, but by pressing

the mules we will get there by to-morrow night, then you will have every

care and attention, and I will send off one of my servants to-morrow

morning, so that he may get a surgeon there by the time we arrive. The

journey is a long one, but I think that you will do well to come with

us; you certainly cannot sit your horse, and can hardly be so well

attended to in any place about here."

The young man murmured something about not liking to give trouble, but

he was too faint to offer anything like a vigorous protest. Isabella was

called out of the carriage, two pieces of wood were laid between the

seats, and on these one of the cushions was placed, so that he could

rest, and indeed lie down, for the carriage was a large one. While the

Spaniard had been dressing the wound, the two servants had dug a shallow

grave by the roadside, and in this they placed the bodies of their dead

comrades and covered them with earth. They now assisted Don Garcia and

the coachman to lift the young man into the coach, where he was laid in

a reclining position, with blankets and rugs under his head and

shoulders. The Spaniard took his place beside him, and Isabella occupied

the remaining seat. The servants then mounted.

"We shall not stop where we intended," Don Garcia said to the coachman,

"we must get home to-morrow evening. We had best stop for the night at

San Lorenzo, we can find accommodation at the priest's there. Be careful

how you drive; you must go fast, but avoid all stones and rough places."

The young man who had so opportunely come to their rescue was apparently

scarce twenty years old, and though bronzed to a deep brown by the sun,

his hair showed that his complexion was naturally fair. He was attired

in a coloured flannel shirt, Mexican trousers with fringed sides, and

high riding-boots. On his head he wore one of the thick stiff hats with

wide brim, encircled with a scarlet and gold cord, in use alike by the

cowboys and Mexican vaqueros. Isabella filled a cup with water and

acidulated juice of fruit from a bottle hanging from the roof of the

carriage, and handed it to her father, who held it to the young man's

lips. He drank it eagerly.

"I am ashamed to be of so much trouble," he said faintly.

"Why should you be ashamed?" Don Garcia asked heartily; "you have

rendered us an invaluable service. Doubtless they would have put us to a

very heavy ransom, if worse had not befallen us. You are an American, I

presume?"

"No, I am English, señor; my name is Harry Denham; but I have been

knocking about this country for the last five years, sometimes working

on a ranche, sometimes hunting. I have been staying for the last few

days with a vaquero and his family. I was just starting north to look

for work, as I could hear of none here, and as I came down upon the road

I saw your coach ahead of me. I was a quarter of a mile behind when I

heard some shots fired, and thinking that I might be of some use, I rode

on at full speed, and of course did what I could."

He was speaking very faintly now, and Don Garcia said, "We will talk it

all over later on; at present it would be best if you could doze off to

sleep."

Harry Denham, although still little more than a lad, had led a life of

adventure for the past five years. He was but fourteen when his father,

a consulting physician, died suddenly. Harry had been a year at Rugby,

and would have returned to school in the course of a few days, when his

father's death deranged everything. His mother had died some years

before, and his brother Tom, who had now been a year at Cambridge, was

his only near relative. The day after the funeral Tom returned from a

visit to the office of his father's trustee, with whom he had had a long

talk.

"What day do you think I had better go down to school, Tom?"

"Well, Harry, I am sorry to say that I think there is very little chance

of your going back at all, or of my returning to Cambridge."

Harry opened his eyes in surprise--"Why not?"

"Well, because as far as I can see at present we are in a hole

altogether. Mr. Ellerman has been telling me that, so far as he knows,

there is really no property whatever. You see father had for years very

uphill work. When ten years ago he moved into Harley Street, and set up

as a consulting physician, he thought that, having made his mark as one

of the staff of Guy's, and having a good private connection, he could

soon obtain a practice. However, for the first three or four years it

came in but slowly. Of course his expenses were heavy with this house

and his carriage and all that sort of thing, and he had to borrow

money. Things got better, and gradually he paid, I believe, most of this

loan off. Still, he saw his way and was able to send me to Harrow. Then,

of course, you have been for the last four years at an expensive school,

preparing for Rugby, and everything was going on well till eighteen

months ago he fell ill, as you know, and had to go away to the south of

France for four months. That, of course, meant not only a heavy expense,

but the loss of practice.

"He told me something about it before I went up last year, and, of

course, I said at once that I would give up going to the 'Varsity, and

would go in for the army or anything else he liked. I said that I would

enlist for a year or two, and then, if things went on all right, he

could buy me a commission--anyhow I did not want to be an expense to

him; but he said, 'There is no occasion for that, Tom, things will soon

improve again; I have no doubt that in a few months I shall be straight

again.' Well, he was right, as far as the practice was concerned. I

spoke to him about it when I came down last, and he said that he was now

doing better again, and that there was no occasion for him to make any

alteration in his plans for me or for you, and that in the course of a

few months he expected that he should be a free man again, and could

calculate upon making a clear £2000 a year.

"Well, you see, Harry, he did not have more than two months, and the

result is that I was not surprised to-day, on talking the matter over

with Mr. Ellerman, to hear that, although the loan he had obtained on

his furniture is partly paid off, there is practically nothing left but

the balance of what the furniture and the horses and carriage will

fetch. Of course there are bills to be paid, and one thing and another,

and I fancy that a couple of hundred pounds is about all that we shall

have between us. The question is, What is to be done? It has not come

quite as a surprise to me. For the last year, you see, I have known

that everything depended on his health, and though I never thought of

this, I did think that he might be obliged, as he was before, to give up

practice again and go away to a warm climate, and I made up my mind that

if he did so I would go out to America and rough it there.

"I spoke to Mr. Ellerman about it to-day--he was father's solicitor as

well as trustee, you know--and he says that he thinks that it is about

the best thing that I could do, and that a client of his has a large

ranche down in Texas, and that he is sure that if he speaks to him about

it he will give me an introduction to his agent, and that he will put me

on to some work. That is all straightforward enough. The question is,

What is to be done with you?"

"Why cannot you take me out with you, Tom? I could do something, you

know--I don't know what, but I suppose a boy is worth something out

there, just as he is here; at any rate, I might earn my food, and not be

much bother to you. Even if there were money to keep me at school, I

would a thousand times rather do that than be here all by myself.

Besides, I could not go to a good school, and I should hate to go to

some beastly little place after being at Rugby. Besides, what could I do

when I left school?--get a place in an office? I would a thousand times

rather go out with you if you will take me."

"Well, you are a little beggar for that sort of thing, Harry," his

brother said, looking at him as if estimating his strength.

"I am not little at all for my age, Tom; and I could thrash any fellow

in my form at Rugby, anyhow."

"Well, I must think it over," Tom said. "Of course I should like to have

you with me; as you say, you might be able to earn your grub, and anyhow

that cannot cost much out there, and I dare say there will be something

left after paying our passage out; but it will be rough work for you,

you know--precious hard work."

"Well, it will be much pleasanter work, at any rate, Tom, than grinding

away at Greek and algebra."

Tom did think it over, and the result was that after a consultation with

Mr. Ellerman he told Harry that he would take him with him. Their

trustee had fallen in with the idea at once. He was a man with a large

family of his own, and the problem what to do with Harry had been on his

mind ever since his client's death, and this solution of the difficulty

was very welcome to him. Two months later Tom and his brother arrived at

the ranche in Texas. Tom was at once attached to one of the parties of

cowboys, and Harry was kept at the home station, and was to make himself

generally useful in aiding the men in looking after the horses and herds

maintained there.

It was not long before he learnt to sit the most vicious _broncho_, and

to throw a lasso fairly; then he was sent out as boy with one of the

outfits. Here his duties were to look after the bunches of cowboy

horses. He was earning wages now, whereas at the home station he had

only got his grub; and when not engaged with the horses, he practised

continually with his revolver--the greatest ambition of all the boys out

on the plains being to become first-rate pistol shots.

Six months later he received the sudden news that his brother Tom had

been shot by one of the other cowboys in his outfit, a man who was

notorious as one of the best shots there, and who in a quarrel had shot

Tom down before the latter could even lay his hand on his pistol. This

was a terrible blow to Harry, who had only seen his brother a few times

since they came out, and who had hoped ere long that he should be posted

to the same outfit with him. He learned that the deed had aroused such

indignation among the other cowboys that Jake Swindon had been obliged

to leave the ranche.

Had the occurrence been altogether opposed to the rules governing the

conduct of the cowboys in such matters, he would have been shot down at

once; but there had been a serious quarrel, and according to their

notions Tom should have been ready to draw when his companion did so;

still, it was felt that as dealing with a young hand who had never been

engaged in such an affair before, Jake had not given him a fair chance.

Tom's belongings were handed over to Harry. For the next three years

Harry practised assiduously with his revolver, and at the end of that

time was acknowledged as being the best shot in his outfit. He was now

regarded as no longer a boy, but took his place as a cowboy; he was now

nineteen, and the life he had led had hardened and strengthened him

exceedingly; he stood five feet ten, he was lithe and sinewy, and the

muscles of his arms and shoulders stood up in cords through his clear

skin.

It now came to his knowledge that Jake was at work in an adjoining

ranche, and taking two of his comrades with him, he rode over there. As

usual, they were at once, on their arrival, invited to sit down and join

the others at supper.

"I cannot do that," Harry said, "until I have settled accounts with one

Jake Swindon."

A figure sprang at once to his feet with his hand behind him, but

already Harry's pistol was levelled at his head.

"Hands up," he shouted. "Now," he went on, "I am not going to murder you

in cold blood, as you murdered my brother, Tom Denham; I am going to

give you a fair chance--more than a skunk like you deserves. Now, Dick,

do you take thirty paces; we will be placed that distance apart, with

our backs to each other, and when the word is given we will shoot as we

like. That is fair, isn't it, boys?"

There was a murmur of assent.

"Very well. Now my two mates will walk with that fellow to his mark, I

would not trust him not to shoot directly my back is turned. Two of you

can walk with me if you like; but as I have not shot him now when I

could do so face to face, I am not likely to do so when his back is

turned. Now I want two others of you to stand close to us, pistol in

hand, till the word is given, and if either of us moves before that,

shoot him down. I want a third to give the signal; when you say one, the

men standing by will draw back, and the two with pistols will level them

at us; at the word three we turn round and can fire as we like. No one

can say that I have not given this fellow a fair chance."

"No; that is fair enough," the other cowboys agreed, all greatly

interested in this arrangement for a duel of a kind quite unknown to

them, as in cowboy disputes the custom is for each to draw at once and

fire as quickly as he can. Jake was led off, livid with rage. As a

matter of formality, two of Jake's companions walked with Harry to the

firing point, and two others drawing their colts, placed themselves a

couple of yards from the combatants. There was a dead stillness for a

moment, and then a voice asked, "Are you ready? One," and the four men

standing by the combatants stepped back; "Two," and then after a pause,

"Three."

As if moved by a spring, Harry and his opponent faced round. Both were

confident in their skill, and neither held their fire a moment. Two

shots rang out as one. Harry felt as if a hot iron had passed along his

cheek. Jake's passion at being thus bearded by a mere lad had slightly

unsteadied his hand, while Harry's arm was as steady as if carved in

marble. Jake fell back with a bullet in the centre of his forehead. Even

among the man's comrades there was no feeling of regret at his death; he

was disliked and feared among them; he had in the course of his career

killed a dozen men, and the retribution that had fallen upon him was

felt to be richly deserved.

A week later Harry rode in to headquarters, and told the manager that he

had better send another man out to take his place, for that he wanted a

change for a bit, and intended to go shooting. He drew the hundred

pounds remaining after paying their expenses out, and which Tom had

deposited in the manager's care, and paying for the horse that he had

ridden in, which was the best of those he had used at his work, he rode

to the nearest town, some sixty miles away, bought a rifle and a large

store of ammunition, some tea, sugar, and flour, and started out again

for the plains. Here for six months he hunted game, taking the skins in

for sale occasionally to the towns, paying his expenses and enjoying the

life. Then he rode down south in search of employment on one of the

Mexican ranches, but failing to find anything to suit him, was returning

north when he came upon the band engaged in the attack on Don Garcia's

carriage.

It was a month before Harry Denham was convalescent. The surgeon had

fortunately found and extracted the ball from his hip on the day

following his arrival at the hacienda; but he had for several days lain

between life and death. Then youth and a constitution hardened by hard

exercise, and the life he had been leading, triumphed, and he slowly

recovered. Don Garcia had been unremitting in his attention to him;

Isabella had visited his sick-room several times each day, and had seen

to his comforts. When he began to recover, the father and daughter

talked over what should be done for him.

Many times indeed they had discussed how they could best recognise the

service that he had done for them. After hearing from him his story they

felt that he would strongly resent the offer of any pecuniary payment.

But one day when he had been saying that he liked the life he had been

leading, and that although without capital it could not be said to be a

paying one, it seemed to him that there was a fascination about the

constant adventure and excitement, the life in the open air, and the

hard exercise, that as soon as he got well enough to take part in it

again, he should look for a fresh berth, Don Garcia said to his

daughter, "Do you know, last night a scheme occurred to me by which he

will better his fortunes without hurting his feelings."

"What is that, father?" she asked eagerly.

"You know that we have been having constant bothers with the new people

of the north, and several of our vaqueros have been killed, and I can

obtain no redress, for the white cowboys all declare that the vaqueros

are the aggressors. This young fellow is accustomed to the work, and I

don't think that I could do better than place him in charge of the

northern herds, paying him by commission on their increase, giving him

say a third. The thing would be mutually advantageous to us. I should

let him choose his own hands, and he could either take vaqueros or

American cowboys, and I should get rid of a great deal of trouble, while

he, in a few years, would have a good chance of making a fortune. I

believe there are some 20,000 head of cattle up there, for the most part

cows, and the increase, if they were well managed, should be 15,000 a

year. Perhaps the best way would be to give him half, and let him pay

his own hands."

Isabella's face showed that she heartily approved of the plan, and the

next day, when Harry was called into the veranda, Don Garcia proposed it

to him. "It will be a mutual accommodation to us, Señor Denham," he

said, after unfolding the plan. "I have had continual trouble there for

the last three years, and it has lately been getting intolerable. The

Americans care nothing for our vaqueros; but if we work cattle on their

system with white men or with a mixture of whites and vaqueros, we

should have no more trouble. What do you say?"

"I can only say that I gratefully accept your offer, señor; it is a

magnificent chance for me, far better than anything that I have ever

dreamt of. I know that herds are often worked on shares, but not a herd

so large as yours. I accept your offer gratefully."

"Well, you must make haste and get strong again, so as to take charge

before I have any fresh troubles. Here comes my daughter, she will be

pleased to hear that the matter is arranged."

A month later Harry Denham entered upon his duties as overseer of the

northern herds. He had already sent a message to some of the best men on

the ranche on which he had worked, and they had at once thrown up their

berths and joined him. He had also six vaqueros chosen from those

working on the estates; these he had only selected after he had gained

strength enough to ride out with the herds, and had seen them at work. A

negro cook completed the outfit. Don Garcia had advanced him a sum of

money for the payment and keep of the men, until the sales of animals

should commence. One of the cowboys who had before been boss of an

outfit was appointed as head of the party. Harry himself had to look

after the general supervision and provisioning; for although able to sit

on a horse, he was unfit for the hard work of a cowboy's life, and in

order to avoid the heat of the plain he erected a hut for himself among

the hills some five miles from the headquarters of the outfit.

Here he would be able to do a little hunting and shooting, so as to vary

the diet of the camp, while he was conveniently situated, riding over to

the hacienda seven miles away to procure supplies. Six months passed;

everything had gone well; the work of branding the calves was over, and

had passed off without trouble. He had found that it was impossible to

prevent the cattle at times from wandering from the limits of the estate

or to restrain others from entering it; he had therefore, with Don

Garcia's approval, adopted the system in use at the American ranches, by

which the cattle were by no means confined to a certain tract of

land, but wandered indiscriminately, sometimes mixing with other herds,

and being separated only once in six months, on the occasion of the

great assemblage of all the cattle, known as the round up.

[Illustration: "The great assemblage of all the cattle, known as the

round up."]

At the hacienda Denham was received most cordially by Don Garcia, who

always insisted on his coming in and smoking a cigar with him, and who,

after the usual report as to the state of the herd, asked many questions

as to his own country. Isabella was generally present, or if out of the

room when he first came, was sure to appear, shortly followed by a

servant with a jug of cooling drink, which she would herself pour out

and place before her father and Harry. Six months after he had commenced

his duties as overseer, Don Garcia said to him, "I told you the errand

from which we were returning when you rescued us from those brigands."

"Yes, señor, it was the question of the marriage of the señoretta."

"That affair is quite over now; the young man wrote very handsomely,

saying that he would do everything in his power to curb his hasty

temper, assuring her that he loved her passionately. I was touched by

his letter, which my daughter showed me, and by one which I myself

received from his father, and was in favour of giving the young man a

chance; but as my daughter is even more determined than before to have

nothing to say to him, I fear that it will cause a quarrel between the

two families."

"I should say that that was of very slight consequence compared with the

happiness of your daughter, señor. In our country a father may object to

his daughter marrying a person of whom he does not approve, and may

even, according to law, prevent her doing so before she comes of age;

but he would never dream of compelling her to marry a man to whom she

objected--he would have no shadow of right to do so."

"With us matters are settled by the parents, Don Henry," the Spaniard

said gravely, "and I think it is far better so in most cases; but having

lost my wife many years ago, and Isabella being my only child, I have

been too indulgent, and let her have too completely her own way, and I

certainly could not bring myself to offer her the alternative of taking

the veil or marrying the man I choose for her."

"But I understand, señor, that although you at first thought of this Don

Pedro as your son-in-law, you yourself, on closer acquaintance with him,

felt that he would not make the Señoretta Isabella happy."

"Yes, that is so; but I think that I was a little hasty and harsh; his

letter is a charming one."

Harry Denham remained silent.

"No one could have written better," the Don went on, and there was an

interrogation in his tone.

"I do not know Don Pedro, señor. As for writing a charming letter, it

seems to me that any one could do that. I cannot help thinking that the

señoretta, who is good and kind to every one, would not have taken such

a strong objection to him without there being some good reason for so

doing."

"It is a caprice on her part," the Don said irritably; "he has good

manners, he is handsome, rich, and of a family equal to her own. He is

passionate, I admit, and I do not like his ways with his slaves and

peons, but, after all, I suppose there is no one perfect."

"I should think, señor," Harry said quietly, "that your daughter, who

loves you dearly, as all can see, would not have opposed your wishes

upon a mere caprice; a man who is harsh to his servants, or even to a

horse or a dog, would be likely to be harsh to his wife."

"Well, at any rate, it is settled," the Spaniard said, lighting a fresh

cigar with short irritable puffs; "I have this morning sent off a letter

of regret to my friend, saying that my daughter's inclinations remain

unchanged, and that, as her happiness is my first consideration, it is

impossible that the proposed match can take place. Now, I suppose, I

shall have trouble. It is too annoying, coming just when I have got rid

of the troubles with the Americans. Somehow one never seems to have

peace."

Looking round the luxuriously furnished room, and thinking of the wide

possessions and easy life that he led, Harry had difficulty in

repressing a smile at the querulous tone of the complaint. The

conversation was in Spanish, which Denham had learned to speak fluently

during his five years' residence on the plain, where, among his

companions, were generally a proportion of Mexicans.

The next evening, as he was sitting with his men after his supper was

over and their pipes lighted, he said, "By the way, do any of you know

anything about a young Mexican named Pedro de Vaga? His father's

hacienda is some eighty miles to the south."

"I know the place," one of the men said: "it is a big estate, not so

large as this in point of size, but better land, and he owns a good many

more slaves than Don Garcia does. I was working down near there two

years ago, and I heard a good many stories of this Don Pedro. The old

man, they say, is a kind master; but the young one is a tyrant, and his

people are looking forward with dread to the time when he will be boss

of the estate. Fortunately for them he is not very much there, being

fond of going to the big towns, where he gambles, they say, heavily. I

have heard that when he comes into them it will require a large slice of

the estates to pay off the money-lenders, though his father has paid

large sums for him over and over again. I heard that he was at New

Orleans three years ago, and was lucky in getting off on board a ship

before he was arrested; so that it must have been something pretty bad,

as they are not squeamish at New Orleans."

"He is a very bad man," one of the vaqueros, who spoke a little English,

put in. "I worked on the estate four years back, and he was the worst

sort of a fellow. He has had a slave flogged to death more than once. A

man pretty nearly put an end to him; he struck him one day in a fit of

passion, and Lobe pulled out his knife and laid his shoulder open with

the first blow, and would have killed him with the next had he not

pulled out his pistol and shot him dead. It was a pity that Lobe bungled

the first stroke. There was a rumour some months ago that our señorita

was going to marry him; he and his father came over here, and Don Garcia

took her down there. _Caramba_! I would have put my knife between his

ribs, if I swung for it afterwards, rather than see a pretty young lady

sacrificed to him."

"Right you are, Nunez," the cowboy who had first spoken said; "you may

count me in; the señorita is a daisy, you bet, and if there is any talk

of this marriage, I am with you in anything you may do to stop it."

Donna Isabella was indeed immensely popular among the men, and on the

occasion of a round up, or of any assemblage of the herds, she would be

sure to be there, with her attendant behind her, watching the

proceedings with the greatest interest, and flushing with excitement

over any deed of daring horsemanship. She had several times been out to

the northern camp since it had been formed, and would stand by her

horse, by the circle round the fire, asking questions as to the work,

and chatting brightly with the men, all whom she knew by name, and

before she rode away would be sure to produce from a basket a bottle or

two of pulque, a quantity of fruit, or some other luxury.

"I am glad to tell you, Don Henry," the Mexican said one day a month

after his conversation with Harry Denham, "that the matter I spoke to

you of has passed off without trouble. I received an answer shortly

afterwards from Don Ramon, saying that he deeply regretted my

daughter's decision, but that, as I was unwilling to use my authority as

her father, he could but acquiesce in it. Three days ago I received a

manly letter from his son, saying that deeply as he regretted the

destruction of his fondest hopes, he trusted that the circumstance would

not lead to any breach in the friendship between the two families, and

he hoped to be allowed to pay me a visit in order to assure me of his

undiminished regard. Nothing could be more excellent than the tone of

his letter, and of course I have answered it in the same spirit."

Harry Denham made no remark, but when alone that evening in the hut he

thought deeply over it. The style of letter was in such entire

contradiction to what he had heard of Don Pedro's character, that it

filled him with distrust. The man was probably fond of Donna Isabella;

that he could easily understand; but he doubtless had reckoned upon the

dowry he would receive with her to repair his own fortune, and perhaps

to silence pressing creditors, until at the death of Don Garcia he would

come into a noble inheritance. It was therefore certain that his

decisive rejection would not only humiliate him, but rouse him to fury.

This letter, then, could only be a cloak to hide his real sentiments,

and his proposed visit certainly foreboded no good to Isabella.

Harry Denham was perfectly conscious that he loved the Spanish girl. Her

kindness to him when ill, her bright companionship during his

convalescence, and the frank welcome that she gave him whenever he went

to the hacienda, completely won his heart. He did not for a moment dream

that anything could come of it. She and her father were grateful to him

for the service that he had rendered them. They were good enough to

treat him as a friend rather than as an inferior, and the position that

they had given him was a substantial proof of their gratitude; but that

he, her father's overseer, could aspire to the hand of one of the

richest heiresses in Texas, was simply absurd.

That, however, need not prevent his doing what he could to shield her

from being molested or annoyed by this Don Pedro, who was, by all

accounts, in every respect unworthy of her. There was no saying what

such a fellow might do. Her fortune was evidently of the most importance

to him, and heiresses had been carried off in Texas and Mexico as well

as elsewhere. One day a month later he shot an unusually fine mountain

lion in a ravine a mile from his hut, and having carefully skinned the

animal, he had it prepared by the wife of one of the vaqueros, who was

famous for her skill in such matters, and then took it over on his next

visit to the hacienda as a present to Isabella. The girl was in the

garden as he rode up, and was delighted with the skin.

"It is one of the finest that I have ever seen," she said, "and there is

not a single scratch on it. Most of the skins are disfigured by the

wounds the animals give each other in their fights."

"I fancy he must have been a young one," Harry said, "though so

immensely large."

"I do not even see a bullet mark."

"No, it does not show. I came upon it suddenly, and had just time to

drop my rifle in my hand and fire, as it was about to spring. The ball

struck it just in the centre of its throat, so that when the skin was

divided the cut passed through the bullet hole."

As they were speaking there was a step behind them, and turning, Harry

Denham saw a remarkably handsome man who had just come out of the house

unnoticed. He was regarding him with an evil look, but the expression

vanished at once, as Isabella also turned, and he said courteously, "I

have come, señora, on the part of my father, who is somewhat indisposed,

or he would have accompanied me to pay my respects to Don Garcia and

yourself."

"You are welcome, Don Pedro," the girl said coldly; "my father will

always be glad to see the son of his old friend, Don Ramon de Vaga. This

is Don Henry Denham, the gentleman who saved my father and myself when

attacked by brigands on return from your father's. Don Henry, this is

Don Pedro de Vaga."

[Illustration: "Shot an unusually fine mountain lion."]

It seemed for a moment that the Spaniard was going to speak, but he

pressed his lips together and made the slightest inclination of his head

in reply to the equally distant salutation of Harry.

"Let us go into the house," the girl said. "You will come in, of course,

Señor Denham, and show my father the beautiful skin that you have

brought me."

"Thank you, señora, but I have to ride out to the camp at once; there

are several matters I have to attend to at once." So saying, he sprang

on to his horse and lifted his solbero and rode off.

Don Pedro did not speak as he re-entered the house with Isabella. He

knew that if he did so, he should ruin any chance that he might have of

winning her by fair means. A feeling of passionate jealousy had seized

him as he saw the girl standing by the side of this stranger and heard

her chatting pleasantly with him, and the changed manner and tone as she

had addressed him added to his anger. By the time that they entered the

room where Don Garcia was sitting, he had mastered himself.

"Look at this lovely lion's skin that Don Henry has brought me," she

said, going over to her father and showing him the skin, that she had

got over her arm.

"Yes, it is a beautiful skin," he said, examining it closely; "there is

not a blemish in it. He shot it himself, I suppose?"

"Yes, in that ravine that runs from the valley half a mile from this

house. Fortunately the shot struck it in the centre of the throat, and

so you see it did not hurt the skin."

"Who is this gentleman?" Don Pedro asked quietly of the haciendorer. "My

father heard from you on your return that you had got into some trouble

with some rough men, and that there was a skirmish between them and some

young fellow--I think you said an English cowboy--who intervened in the

matter."

"I did not put it at all in that way, Don Pedro, nor was the affair so

trifling as you represent. Two of my servants were killed, and the other

two bound. I myself had alighted from the coach, and was handing my

daughter out under the pistols of these five ruffians, when this

gentleman arrived. He shot four of them, and himself received wounds

that for some time seemed likely to be fatal. I may at that time have

written of him as a cowboy; but I had not at that time learned, as I

have since done, that he is a gentleman of an honourable family in

England. He is now overseer of the northern herds on my estates, and in

addition to my gratitude for the immense service he rendered us, I have

the fullest confidence in him, and esteem for his character."

"Oh, he is an overseer, is he? I thought his attire would hardly be in

accordance with the title of Don, by which the señora introduced him. I

suppose you have other evidence besides his word as to his family. I

believe most of these cowboys claim to be members of noble families."

Don Garcia was about to reply when Isabella broke in passionately: "You

are insulting the man who saved my father and myself from the greatest

peril, and whom I introduced to you as my friend, Don Pedro. We have the

best evidence that he is a gentleman--that of his own manners and

conduct, sir--who might be imitated in both these respects with

advantage by men who do not hesitate to boast of the purest Spanish

blood."

"Silence, Isabella," her father said sternly; "I am here, and able to

defend my absent friend. I should have thought, Don Pedro, that

professing, as you do, a regard for our family, you would have shared to

some extent our gratitude towards a young man who had done us such

signal service, instead of sneering at him. With your feeling towards

him, however, I have nothing to do; but I expect, at any rate, that

courtesy will be shown in my house to any guest I and my daughter choose

to invite here."

Don Pedro bowed in silence, and then the Spaniard went on more

cordially: "Do not let us make too much of this, Don Pedro. Of course,

you were not fully aware of our obligation to this gentleman, or you

would not have spoken as you did. Let us forget the matter altogether,"

and he at once began to talk upon another subject.

Three days later Don Pedro left, after a stormy interview with Isabella.

"I see that it is of no use remaining longer," he said. "I came here in

hopes that, in spite of your prejudice against me, I might still succeed

in winning your love. I see now that it is useless, and can understand

the real reason of your refusal of it. I am not blind; and when I heard

you speaking to that young Englishman as you had never spoken to me, I

comprehended the whole matter."

The girl flushed angrily.

"You insult me," she said. "I am not one of your slaves, Don Pedro; and

my father will not forgive any one, whosoever he may be, who insults his

preserver. As to your insinuation, it is contemptible. You know full

well I informed my father, after your first visit here, that nothing

would induce me to marry you, and I would rather enter a convent than do

so. My visit to your house confirmed me in that determination; but at

that time I had never even seen this Englishman. Your insinuation proves

to me how rightly I judged your character. I would rather marry the

lowest peon on my father's estate than you. You are here on false

pretences, sir. You declared in your letter to my father that you

acquiesced in his and my decision, and that you wished to come only as a

friend; it seems now that this was false."

"It was false, señora, and I intend to make you my wife. You may be

cruel, you may be unjust, you may even love another, but that will not

turn me from my purpose. Mine you shall be, by all the saints;" and,

without waiting to hear the indignant reply, he left the room.

"I am going, Don Garcia," he said abruptly, as he met the latter coming

from the stables. "My love is stronger than my power of repressing it. I

had hoped that I had to some extent conquered it, but I cannot do so,

and it may be, Don Garcia, that you may some day be sorry that you did

not give my suit the support that my father and I hoped and expected. I

understand now the reason of my refusal. There is another more fortunate

than I am, and you may some day bitterly regret that your kindness of

heart led you to open your doors to an adventurer;" and without waiting

he hurried forward to the stable, called for his horse, and ordered the

three men who had accompanied him to saddle at once and follow him, and

then rode furiously away. He drew rein after riding a mile, and waited

until his followers came up. He called one of them up to him, and with

him went slowly on, the other two falling behind.

"You have followed the orders I gave you the first day we came here,

Juan?"

"I have, sir; I have found out all about him: he does not live with the

others at the camp, but has a small hut in a lonely valley some miles

from here; he shoots and hunts early in the morning, and then generally

he breakfasts, and afterwards rides over to the camp."

"That is excellent. I want you to stay behind here, Juan, and put a stop

to his riding--you understand. You will be well paid for the business."

The man nodded. "I will do it, señor. It is rather risky, for they say

that he is a first-rate shot."

"Well, then, you must manage so that he doesn't get a shot at you, Juan.

He is alone in the hut?"

"Yes, except that he has a dog Don Garcia gave him, a fierce beast that

would let no one into the hut without awakening its master. It cannot be

done that way. When he is away I must hide in the bushes near his hut,

and shoot him as he returns."

"Well, don't blunder over the business, Juan. If you are doubtful about

yourself, hire a man or two to help you, there is never any difficulty

in picking up a man for that sort of work."

"I can put my hand on the men. My brother was one of those who made the

attack on Don Garcia and his daughter, and this Englishman shot him,

therefore I should be ready to do the job without being paid for it,

though I don't say it is not sweeter to get both gold and revenge at

one stroke. I know where the two men who got away are, and they will be

glad to join me; they are but two days' ride away, but I suppose a few

hours earlier or later would make no difference to you. It is on the

road back to the hacienda."

"That will do very well. Mind you do not bring my name into the matter

with them; simply say you want to revenge your brother's death."

"I understand, señor," and Juan dropped back to his comrades. Before the

end of the day, however, Don Pedro had formed another plan, which he

communicated to Juan that evening.

"You understand," he said, "you will get those two men you spoke about,

and half-a-dozen others; I shall get eight or ten of our own men, say

twenty in all--that will be enough. My business must be settled first;

after we have gone, you and the other two can carry out this affair with

that accursed Englishman. There will be no risk in it, for when I have

once got the girl, Don Garcia will be glad enough to hush up the

affair."

Three weeks afterwards Harry Denham was preparing his breakfast, which

consisted of slices of venison that he had shot an hour before, when the

dog suddenly pricked up its ears with a low warning growl.

"What is it, Don? Is some one coming? Yes, you are right," he went on,

after stopping to listen for a moment, "I can hear horses' hoofs." He

went to the door, and opening it, looked out; then he gave a sudden

exclamation, ran in and seized his rifle, and then ran out again. At a

distance of a hundred yards Isabella Novales was riding at full gallop,

while half that distance behind were some twenty horsemen, evidently in

hot pursuit of her.

"Go in, Don," he said sternly as the dog was about to leap forward; "go

in and lie down."

[Illustration: "I struck Violetta sharply and she galloped off like an

arrow."]

The girl drew up her horse suddenly as she reached the hut, and leaped

off.

"Lead the horse in, señora," Harry exclaimed, as levelling his rifle he

fired, and one of the horsemen fell from his saddle, while a yell of

rage broke from the others. There was not a moment to be lost, and

running in he closed the door and fastened the stout bar across it; then

catching up a double-barrelled gun, he thrust it through the window and

discharged both barrels into the crowd as they rode up. Two more men

fell. The rest dismounted, and flung themselves against the door, but

three shots of a revolver through a small sliding panel caused them to

draw back, and a moment later, in spite of the angry shouts of one of

their number, they ran off with their horses, and taking refuge in the

bushes, opened a straggling fire on the hut.

"What does it all mean, señora?" Harry asked, turning to the girl, who

had without a moment's hesitation seized the rifle he had dropt, and

began to load it from a powder-horn hanging from a peg in the wall.

"I don't know," she said. "I was out for a ride this morning, when a

number of mounted men suddenly dashed out from a clump of trees, and I

saw another party ride out of some bushes farther on, evidently

intending to cut me off. From the glimpse I had of them it seemed to me

that their faces were all blackened. I turned my horse to ride back, but

some more men had posted themselves there. I struck Violetta sharply and

she galloped off like an arrow. I had to pass close to one of the party,

and I was afraid they might lasso me. One man did take up his lariat as

he galloped, but another shouted, 'No, ride her down,' and I shot by

them, though they were within a few yards of me.

"I thought of the camp, but I knew that at this hour most of the men

would be out with the herds. Then I thought of your hut. I knew it was

up this valley, though I had never been here. I was sure that if you

were in you would protect me; if you were not, I should have ridden on.

They must be brigands who intended to carry me off to get a ransom for

me; but it seemed to me when that man shouted to the others not to lasso

me, that I knew his voice, and I feel almost sure it was Don Pedro. He

said when he went away he would marry me some day, and I cannot help

thinking that perhaps he has made up his mind to carry me off. What is

to be done, señor? I would kill myself rather than fall into his hands.

Why should he want to marry a girl who hates him?"

"Because, as I hear, he wants money, señora. I hear that he has very

heavy debts, and has already gambled away much of the estate that will

come to him at his father's death. Now, señora, I must send a few shots

back in answer to their fire, or they will be making another rush, and

the door was never made to stand a serious assault. I only hope that if

Don Pedro is there he will let me get a shot at him."

He took out some moss that had been thrust into several chinks in the

wall, and fired several shots into the bush. A loud yell told that at

least one had taken effect.

"That will do for the present," he said; "now let us think over what had

best be done. I fear there is little chance of this firing being heard;

the herd is eight or ten miles away. Your horse is fast, and you might

possibly get there before you were overtaken; but some of these men will

be well mounted, and it would be a risk. They have stopped firing, but

are certainly round the hut, and might lasso you before you had gone

twenty yards. If I had my horse here I could have ridden with you, and

could have beaten off any well-mounted men who might come up; but he was

grazing a hundred yards away when I came in, and there is no getting at

him. I see nothing to do but to wait and see what they intend to do

next. If they were only brigands they might give it up; but if your

suspicions are correct, and they have Don Pedro with them, I fear there

is no chance of that. I know a cave, four miles away, that I could hold

against them for any time, while this hut is not meant to stand a siege,

but there is no getting there."

"What are you growling at, Don? Do you hear some one creeping up there?"

A moment later there were three crashes as a heap of faggots were thrown

down against the end of the hut. He sprang towards that direction,

pushed the moss from a loop-hole, and thrusting his rifle out, shot a

man who was approaching with a blazing brand.

"Too late," he exclaimed bitterly a minute afterwards, "it has fired the

dry grass; the wind is towards us, and those faggots will be kindled,

and the flames will light the dry shingles."

"I will go out and surrender," Isabella said suddenly; "you shall not

throw away your life, Don Henry."

"Your surrender would not save my life, señora, even if I were to

venture to make the sacrifice. I have killed five or six of them, and

you may be sure that they would not spare me."

"Then let us both get on to my horse and try to escape; she is very

fast."

"We should be overtaken before we had gone half a mile, even if we had a

fair start. She is a pretty thing, but light, and would soon tire under

the double weight. Let me think for a minute;" he closed his eyes and

stood in thought.

Already the pungent odour of the smoke filled the room, and there was a

cracking noise, increasing in volume every moment, that told the faggots

had caught fire. Suddenly he looked up.

"I have it, señora, if you will not mind doing it."

"I will do anything you tell me to do," she said quietly.

"The horse is getting restive; I will hold him as you go to the other

end of the room and take off your dress, and wrap in it the pillow and

blankets as quickly as you can. As soon as you have done so, I will

mount your horse, open the door, and ride out with the dummy in front of

me. Seeing your dress, they will naturally suppose that it is you, and

will all dash off in pursuit of me. I shall make for the cave I spoke

of. They are principally below us, and would cut me off from making

either for the hacienda or the camp. The moment they are fairly after

me, do you make your way off on foot. If you can catch my horse, you

might get me help from the camp."

"You will be throwing away your life, señor."

"Not at all. I am a heavy weight for your mare, but I think she will

carry me as far as the cave, and they will not like to fire lest they

might, as they would suppose, hurt you. At any rate it is a chance for

us both, and I see no other. Pray do not lose a moment."

"I will do it," she said.

The hut was full of blinding smoke, the dog barked and howled, and the

mare struggled so violently that he had the greatest difficulty in

pacifying her. When at last he did so, she was trembling from head to

foot. It was not two minutes before Isabella stood beside him and thrust

the bundle into his arms.

"I have pulled the blankets up above the dress," she said, "and pinned

my riding-hat on the top. Quick, it is stifling here." Then she

passionately threw her arms around his neck. "The Holy Virgin shield

you!" she exclaimed. "I love you, Harry, I love you. I have brought this

upon you, and if you die I will remain a widow all my life for your

sake."

"God bless you, Isabella," he said hoarsely.

Isabella took down the bar and unlocked the door. The mare for a moment

refused to move. He leaned forward on her neck and struck the spurs into

her, and she flew like an arrow through the door, at which the dog had

already rushed out with a joyous bark. Harry Denham had slung his

double-barrelled gun across his shoulder. In one hand he held his

revolver, which he had recharged after using it; in the other the reins,

and pressed the dummy figure against him. A loud shout burst from the

bushes as he issued out.

[Illustration: "A loud shout burst from the bushes as he issued out."]

"Don't fire, on your lives, don't fire," a man shouted; "you might hit

the lady."

A dozen horsemen sprung out, but most of them were just below the hut,

being sure that when the defenders sallied out they would make that way.

There were but three that barred the way up the valley. Harry rode right

at them. One made a grasp at his rein, but the revolver cracked out and

he pitched head foremost out of the saddle. When he was past them,

turning round he fired again, and one dropped the reins with an oath as

the ball struck him in the shoulder. The other reined in his horse until

joined by his comrades from below.

"Steady, steady, keep together," their leader shouted. "We must have

them; the mare will soon tire."

To their surprise, although they were riding their hardest, the mare for

three miles maintained the lead of some seventy yards that she had

gained.

"_Caramba_!" the leader of the pursuers muttered, "she must be the

devil; no horse her size could carry double weight so far without

failing." But although far less heavily loaded than her pursuers

imagined, Harry's weight was telling, and he could feel that the mare

was beginning to flag. He cheered her on with hand and voice, abstaining

from using the spur, for the gallant little horse was doing her best. He

would not look round, for that would have encouraged his pursuers, and

they might press their horses to make a rush; but listening intently, he

was sure that they were gaining somewhat upon him, and he was confirmed

in his belief by a shout of triumph behind. The cave, however, was now

but a short distance away. The valley had narrowed to a ravine, occupied

in the rainy season by a torrent. The pursuers, confident that the end

was not far off, and that the mare would ere long founder, had not

pressed their horses, and as they could no longer ride more than two

abreast, they had fallen somewhat farther back.

Those in front gave a yell of exultation as they saw the mare suddenly

stop and the rider leap from its back, but were astonished when they saw

him go to the horse's head and apparently lead it into the solid rock,

followed by the dog, which had kept close to its heels. They rode

cautiously now, not knowing what to expect, and checked their horses,

when they saw an opening no more than a yard wide in the face of the

rock, and realised that the fugitives had taken refuge within it.

Volleys of execrations poured from the leader of the band. He at once

ordered the men to dismount, which they did willingly enough, but they

refused to attempt to enter the cleft.

"It would be certain death," one of them said; "he has got a

double-barrelled gun and that pistol, and he can shoot us down the

moment we appear before the hole."

The fact was so evident that the leader, although half mad with passion,

saw that it was useless to urge them to the attack at present.

"Well, we must think of some plan," he said. "There is no hurry, they

cannot escape us; we are in the heart of the hills, and no one dreams of

what has taken place. We burnt them out of their last place, and if we

can find no other way, we can starve them out of this. They can eat the

horse, but they can't go very long without water. You may as well get

some food out of your sacks and make a meal while we think the matter

over."

The men obeyed sullenly. They had entered on the affair solely for the

money they were to receive for it, and it had turned out most

disastrous: there were twenty of them to begin with, while there were

now but thirteen--six had been killed and one wounded. They were,

however, somewhat cheered when their leader told them that their

comrades' shares would be divided among them, and that each would

therefore get half as much again as he had expected.

"I will double that," he said, "if you will attack the place."

But there was no response. Presently one of them went up to the leader,

who was sitting apart.

"Why not try fire again, señor; we could not burn them out, but we might

smoke them out."

"That is a good idea, Juan. Directly the men have finished eating, do

you go down with four of them and cut faggots and bring them up; there

are plenty of bushes half a mile lower down. Put plenty of green wood

in it; it is smoke we want and not fire. They will come out quickly

enough as soon as we light them; but if they don't, we must pull the

faggots away and drag her out--she would be of no use dead."

Five men went off, the others taking their post, pistol in hand, near

the mouth of the cave, should the fugitives try to escape. The men had

taken their horses with them to bring up the faggots, and half-an-hour

later the sound of horses' hoofs was heard coming fast up the ravine.

"They have been wonderfully quick about it," Juan said to the leader

uneasily.

"They have; they may have found bushes enough on the lower side of the

ravine without going right down to the bottom."

"I did not notice any, señor--and listen, it seems to me that noise is

more than five horses would make."

"So it is. Stand to your horses, men."

A moment later the head of the party came in sight. There was a shout in

English of "Come along, lads, here are the skunks." For a moment the men

could not believe their eyes, for by the side of a cowboy rode a female

figure. She was in her white petticoats, and had on a scarlet shirt,

strapped at the waist by a belt; her head was bare, and though nearly a

hundred yards away, Don Pedro recognised at once Isabella Novales. A

terrible oath broke from his lips.

"Forward, men," he shouted, "ride for your lives; we have been duped,

and the girl has brought these cowboys upon us."

At the head of his men Don Pedro dashed up the ravine, but as he passed

the opening to the cave, a flash of fire spurted out and struck him on

the side of the head with a full charge of heavy shot, and he fell dead

from his horse. The man Juan, who followed him, met with the same fate;

but the others dashed past, and a minute later eight cowboys galloped in

pursuit. Isabella Novales drew her horse aside to let them pass, and

then sprang to the ground. Her fears of Henry's safety had been allayed.

She learned from one of the five men whom they had seized just as they

began to cut brushwood, that he had gained the cave, and that, not

daring to attack it, his foes were about to smoke him out. The news had

gained him his life. The cowboys were afraid to fire lest the sound

should reach the ears of the brigands, but they had without a moment's

loss of time strung the other four up by their lariats to a tree growing

close to the spot where they had been captured.

"Are you safe, my beloved?" she said, as she threw herself into Harry's

arms with the passionate abandon of her race.

"Quite safe," he replied; "you have saved me, Isabella. I was close to

the mouth of the cave and could hear them talking, and I knew that

unless help came in time it was all over. Your mare carried me

splendidly; but another half-mile and they would have had me. I and my

gun made up nearly twice the weight she is accustomed to carry. And you,

how did you manage? I see that you went to the camp."

"I threw myself down close to the door for a moment to get fresh air,

then I ran out. At first I thought of making for the hacienda, but it

was two miles farther; they would be too long in getting ready. I

luckily came upon your horse, mounted it, and galloped to your camp.

When I rode in, the men had just finished their breakfast, and had

already mounted; another two minutes and they would have gone. I told my

story. One of them ran into the tent and brought me a shirt and a belt,

which I was very glad to put on, though till then I had never thought

for a moment about being so undressed before a number of men. We

galloped as if we had been racing. We passed the hut, or what was the

hut, for there was nothing of it but a smoking beam or two. Just above

that we passed a dead man lying on the ground, and the cowboy who was

riding next to me said, 'Cheer up, señora, that is Harry Denham's

handiwork; he has ridden through them here.'

"Is not that," she broke off, as she looked at the two dead men lying

close to her, "Don Pedro? it looks to me like his figure."

Harry went and turned the bodies over.

"You are right," he said, "it is he; Don Pedro will never trouble you

again. Now let us mount and go slowly down; the others will overtake us

presently. I doubt whether they will overtake the brigands. They have

ridden nine miles at full speed, and the other horses have had more than

one hour's rest."

They mounted, and rode down the ravine, the dog trotting behind them.

"I can hardly believe that I have not dreamt what you said in the hut,

dearest."

She coloured brightly.

"You knew it before, and I knew what you thought." Then she added shyly,

"I shall tell my father directly we get in."

"I am afraid that he will never consent," Harry said gravely.

"He loves me," she said confidently; "I am his only child, and he will

do as I wish him. You are a gentleman by birth, Harry--what can he want

more? If you were as rich as I am, what good would it be?"

Harry shook his head.

"That is true enough, Isabella; but fathers do not see things in that

light. However, I will ride with you home, and leave you to tell your

story. If he says no, as I fear he will, I must leave here; I cannot

remain as his overseer after this."

"If you were as faint-hearted in fighting as you are in love," the girl

said with a bright smile, "you would never have won me. I do believe you

would never have spoken had not I spoken first."

"I am sure I never should," he replied. "I have known for months that I

loved you. It would not have been right that I, one of your father's

overseers, should ever speak of my love to his daughter."

The cowboys came up presently and crowded round Harry Denham, shaking

hands with him warmly.

"We wiped out five of the skunks," one of them said, "but the others

were too well mounted for us. If we had had time to choose our horses,

not one of them would have got away."

"It does not matter," Harry said; "the man who was the author of all

this has fallen. The rest were only hired brigands, and they have paid

heavily for it."

"Are you coming to the camp, Harry?"

"Not at present, I must conduct the señora home; but I may be out this

evening."

The men exchanged a significant glance, and when the way separated at

the charred remains of the hut, one said, "We shall not see much more of

Denham at the camp. I don't know what the Don will say about it, but

there is no mistake about the señora. Poor little thing, how white she

was when she rode up! She looks all right again now, and has got plenty

of colour in her cheeks; but she was as pale as death then. She didn't

say much, but there was no question where her heart was."

When Harry Denham left Isabella, he promised her that he would return in

two hours and wait at the gate until she came to him. She was there

before him, and he saw at once that she had judged her father better

than he had.

"Come in, Harry," she said, "my father is expecting you."

Don Garcia came out to meet them as they approached the house.

"Don Harry, you have saved her life, at the risk of your own, twice," he

said, "and you have fairly won her; I give her to you willingly. It

would have been a blow to my pride, had you not been a man of good

family, but I could not have said no to her even then. As it is, there

is nothing I can wish for better. Money she has no need for; but she has

need of an honest gentleman as her protector, and such she has found in

you."

Three months later they were married. Till Don Garcia's death ten years

later, they lived with him always at the hacienda. After that Harry

Denham took his wife to Europe for six months, and then returned to

Texas, into which a flood of immigration was pouring. There he still

lives, one of the richest and most popular land-owners in the State.

THE END

Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.

Edinburgh & London.

* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes:

The text contains some inconsistent hyphenation (i.e. "firearm" vs.

"fire-arm"; "warship" vs. "war-ship"); these have been retained, as they

may reflect the preferences of different authors within the collection.

Additionally, archaic spellings (i.e. "sticking-plaister") have been

retained.

Page x, added missing period after "Mr" ("Mr. Urquhart tried the effect

of the nine-pounders")

Page 2, changed oe ligature to "oe" for Latin-1 compatibility; the

HTML edition retains the ligature ("... it had been manoeuvred under

water...")

Page 20, changed "possesion" to "possession" ("One of these took

possession of the tug, while the other, in which sat the exulting spy,

ranged alongside the dumping scow.")

Page 49, added missing period and changed "Who's" to "Whose" ("Yes, he

seems inclined to remove us one by one. Whose turn next, I wonder!")

Page 59, changed "Berthas" to "Bertha" ("Truly a derelict vessel; no

living thing, save a few birds, was near her until the "_Bertha_"

approached.")

Page 104, added missing close quote ("_La la ha il Allah! Vras! Vras!_")

Page 112, changed "aint" to "ain't" ("... the Turkish orficer ain't a

Turk at all, but a Frenchman.")

Page 121, removed duplicate "before" ("And then, before the stranger had

time to answer, he added...")

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that Lochaber axe upon the wall.")

Page 135, added missing close quote ("Alan refused to accept this offer

of friendship.")

Page 139, added missing close quote ("... in company with his son Neil.")

Page 147, changed "Bendding" to "Bending" ("Bending his head, he crept

upward, holding the lantern in his extended hand.")

Page 157, changed single quote to double quote at end of sentence ("Will

you leave off interrupting me?")

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at him if they heard...")

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going on...")

Page 272, removed extraneous quote at end of paragraph ("As the arrow

flies through the air swiftly and slays, so the Indian will drop down

into your midst, and the scalps of the white men will be his reward,"

said Will Narburton.)

Page 352, changed "Josepha" to "Josefa" ("There was one craft in

particular--a barque named the _Josefa_--that we were especially anxious

to lay hands upon...")

Page 364, changed "you they" to "you? They" ("... cast off these lashings

of mine, will you? They hurt most abominably!")

Page 422, added missing close quote ("... might get me help from the

camp.")