The maiden, refreshed by the rest she had enjoyed, felt herself newborn

as she breathed the first exhalations of the flowers and the sharp

odour which is found in the desert alone. Without venturing to quit

the jacal, in front of which the tigrero was lying, she surveyed the

surrounding landscape, which, thanks to the elevation she stood at,

lay expanded at her feet for a long distance. The profound calmness

of reawakening nature, the powerful harmonies of the desert, filled

the maiden's heart with a gentle melancholy; she pensively indulged

in those thoughts which the great spectacles of nature ever arouse in

minds unaffected by human passions. In the meanwhile the sun ascended

the horizon, and the last shadows melted away in the dazzling beams

propelled by the daystar. Suddenly the girl uttered an exclamation of

delight, for she noticed a band of horsemen fording the stream, and

apparently coming in the direction of the hill. At the cry his foster

sister uttered, the tigrero bounded to his feet and stood by her side,

rifle in hand, ready to defend her if necessary.

"Good morning, tocayo," she said to him.

"Heaven keep you, niña!" he replied, with a shade of anxiety. "Have you

slept well?"

"I could not have done so better, Mariano."

"All right then; but why did you utter that cry?"

"I cried out, my friend, and scarce know why."

"Ah, yes--stay; look at those horsemen coming up at full speed."

"Caray! How they gallop! They will be here within half an hour."

"Do you think that Stronghand is among them?"

"I suppose so, niña."

"And I am sure of it," said Whistler, with a respectful bow to the

young lady; "I have recognised him, señorita; so will you allow that I

have kept my promise?"

"Most fully, señor; and I know not how to express my thanks for the

hearty hospitality you have given me."

"I have no claim to any thanks from you, señorita, as I have only

carried out my friend's intention; niña, it is to him alone you should

offer thanks, if you consider that you ought to make them."

In the meanwhile the camp was aroused; the hunters were yawning, and

turned to their daily avocations; some led their horses to the watering

place, others kindled the fires; some cut the wood requisite to keep

them up, while two or three of the older men acted as cooks, and got

breakfast ready for the party. The camp changed its appearance in a

minute; it lived the nervous, agitated life of the desert, in which

each man performs his task with the feverish speed of persons who are

aware of the value of time, and do not wish to lose it. The young lady,

at first surprised by the cries, laughter, and unaccustomed movement

that prevailed around her, began to grow used to it, and eagerly

watched the occupations of the men she had beneath her eyes. A sharp

challenge of "Who goes there?" suddenly made her raise her head.

"A friend!" a voice she at once recognised answered from without.

Suddenly a band of horsemen entered the camp, at their head being

Stronghand. The young man dismounted, and after exchanging a few words

with Whistler, he went straight up to the maiden, who was standing

motionless in the doorway of the jacal, and watching his approach

with amazement. In fact, as we have said, Stronghand was not alone;

several persons accompanied him, among them being Thunderbolt and Doña

Esperanza; the rest were confidential Indian servants. When Stronghand

came in front of the young lady, he bowed to her respectfully, and then

turned to the persons who accompanied him.

"Permit me, señorita," he said to her, "to present to you my mother,

Doña Esperanza, and my father; both love you, though they do not know

you, and insisted on accompanying me."

The maiden, blushing with joy at this delicate attention on the part

of the hunter, who thus placed their interview beneath the safeguard

of his father and mother, replied with emotion--"I am delighted,

señor, with this kind inspiration of your heart; it augments, were it

possible, the confidence I have placed in you, and the gratitude I felt

for the eminent services you have rendered me."

Doña Esperanza and the sachem embraced the girl, who, at once ashamed

and joyous at the friendship of these persons, whose exterior was at

once so imposing and so venerable, knew not how to respond to their

caresses and the kindness they evinced to her. In the meanwhile the

hunters had raised, with great skill and speed, a tent, under which

the four persons were at once protected from the curious glances of

the persons who surrounded them. Through that innate feeling of women,

which makes them love or detest each other at the first glance, Doña

Esperanza and the young lady at once felt attracted to each other by

a natural movement of sympathy, and leaving the gentlemen to their

occupations, they withdrew on one side, and began an animated and

friendly conversation. Doña Marianna, subjugated by Doña Esperanza's

seductive manner, and drawn toward her by a feeling of attraction for

which she did not attempt to account, as she felt so happy with her,

spoke to her open-heartedly; but then she was greatly surprised to see

that this lady, whom she was bound to suppose an entire stranger, was

perfectly acquainted with all that related to her family, and knew her

father's affairs better than she did herself; her amazement increased

when Doña Esperanza explained in the fullest details the reasons that

occasioned her presence in the hunter's camp, and the precarious

position to which the Marquis de Moguer was reduced.

"I could add many more surprising things, my dear girl," Doña Esperanza

continued with a smile, "but I do not wish to fatigue you at present;

sufficient for you to know that we really take an interest in your

family, and that it will not be our fault if your father is not soon

freed from all his cares."

"Oh, how good you are, madam!" the young lady exclaimed, warmly; "How

can I have merited such lively interest on your part?"

"That must not trouble you at all, my dear girl; the step you have

taken today to come to your father's assistance, and the confidence

you have placed in my son, are for us proofs of the loftiness of your

feelings and the purity of your heart. Although we are almost Indians,"

she added with a smile, "we have white blood enough in our veins to

remember what we owe to persons of that race."

The conversation went on thus between the two ladies on a footing of

frank friendliness, until the moment when Stronghand came to interrupt

it, by stating that breakfast was ready, and that they were only

waiting for them to sit down. The tigrero and the Canadian had both

been invited to share the meal, but they declined the invitation under

the pretext that they did not like to eat with persons so high above

them in rank, but in reality, because the worthy wood rangers preferred

breakfasting without ceremony. Stronghand did not press them, and

allowed them to do as they pleased. Doña Marianna bit her lips in order

to suppress a smile when the hunter informed her that they were about

to sit down to table; for, owing to her recent journey and her life on

the Indian border, the young lady was well aware that such meals were

extremely simple, and eaten on the grass. Hence her surprise was at its

height when, after passing into a separate compartment of the tent,

she perceived a table laid with a luxury which would have been justly

admired even in Mexico: nothing was wanting, even to massive plate

and valuable crystal. The dishes, it is true, were simple, and merely

consisted of venison and fruit; but all had a stamp of true grandeur,

which it was impossible not to appreciate at the first glance. The

contrast offered by this table, so elegantly and comfortably laid, was

the greater, because, behind the canvas of the tent, desert life could

be seen in all its simplicity.

The young lady seated herself between Thunderbolt and Doña Esperanza,

Stronghand sat down opposite to her, and two menservants waited. In

spite of the agreeable surprise which the impromptu comfort of this

repast, prepared for her alone, caused her, the young lady did not at

all display her surprise, but she ate heartily and gaily, thus thanking

her hosts for the delicate attentions they showed her. When the

dainties were placed on the table, and the meal was drawing to a close,

Stronghand bowed to Doña Marianna.

"Señorita," he said, with a smile, "before we begin a serious

conversation, which might, at this moment, appear to you untimely, be

kind enough to permit my mother to tell us one of the charming Indian

legends with which she generally enlivens the close of our meals."

Doña Marianna was at first surprised by this proposition, made,

without any apparent motive, at the close of a lively conversation;

but imagining that the hunter's remarks concealed a serious purpose,

and that the legend, under its frivolous aspect, would entail valuable

results for her, she answered with her sweetest smile--"I shall listen

with the greatest pleasure to the narrative the señora is about to tell

us, because my nurse, who is of Indian origin, was wont to lull me to

sleep with these legends, which have left a deep and most agreeable

impression on my mind."

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE LEGEND.

Doña Esperanza exchanged a look with the sachem, and after reflecting

a moment, as if recalling her ideas, she said to Doña Marianna, in

her gentle, sympathising voice--"My dear girl, before beginning my

narrative, I must inform you that I belong to the Aztec race, and am

descended in a direct line from the kings of that people. Hence, the

story you are about to hear, though simple in its form, is completely

exact, and has dwelt among us intact for generations. I trust," she

added, with a stress, "that it will interest you."

Then turning to one of the criados who stood motionless behind the

guests, she said--"The quipos."

The criado went out, and almost immediately returned with a bag of

perfumed tapir skin, which he handed his mistress with a bow. The

latter opened it, and drew out several cords plaited of different

coloured threads, divided at regular distances by knots mingled with

shells and beads. These cords are called quipos, and are employed by

the Indians to keep up the memory of events that have occurred during

a long course of years, and thus represent books. Still, it requires

a special study to understand these quipos, and few people are capable

of deciphering them, the more so as the Indians, who are very jealous

about keeping their historical secrets, only permit a small number

of adepts to learn the explanation, which renders any knowledge of

Indian history almost impossible for white men. Doña Esperanza, after

attentively examining the quipos, selected one, replaced the others in

the bag, and letting the knots of the rope glide through her fingers,

much as a monk does with his beads when telling his rosary, she began

her narrative.

For fear of injuring this story, whose truth cannot be doubted,

and which we ourselves heard told in an atepetl of the Papazos, we

will leave it in all its native rudeness, without attempting to

adorn it with flowers of European metaphors, which, in our opinion,

would deprive it of its peculiar character. Doña Esperanza spoke as

follows:--"At a certain period of the year," she said, while beginning

to feel the quipos, which served her, as it were, as a book, "long

before the appearance of white men on the red territory, a numerous

band of Chichimeques and Toltequez, who originally dwelt at the lakes,

becoming dissatisfied, resolved to emigrate to the south-west in

pursuit of the buffaloes, and carried out their resolve."

"At Salt Lake they divided, and those who remained continued to

bear their primitive name; while the others, for an unknown motive,

assumed that of Comanches. These Comanches, more enterprising than

their brothers, continued their journey till they reached the banks

of the Rio Gila, where they encamped and divided again. One band,

which resolved not to go farther, was christened by the others, who

determined to press on, the 'Great Ears;' but the whites who first

discovered them called them 'Opatas.' The remainder of the band

continued to march in the same direction, and found the Rio Bravo

del Norte at the mouth of the Rio Puerco. They had only two principal

chiefs left, and gave themselves the name of Neu-ta-che, which means,

'those who reach the river's mouth.' One of the chiefs had an only son,

and the other a lovely daughter, and the young people loved each other.

But this raised the anger of the father of the unhappy girl to such a

height, that he made his band arm and prepare to fight. But the father

and the young man crossed the Rio Gila, and buried themselves with

their band in the territory afterwards called by the white man Señora

or Sonora, where they settled, and continued to reside peacefully

until the period when the whites, ever in search of new lands, arrived

there in their turn, and after many cruel wars, succeeded in gaining

possession of the country."

"The Comanches had founded several towns in Sonora, and, in accordance

with their constant habit, in the neighbourhood of the gold and

silver mines they discovered, and begun to work. One of their towns,

perhaps the richest and most populous, had for its chief a warrior

justly renowned for his wisdom in council, and valour in the combat.

This chief was called Quetzalmalin--that is to say, the 'Twisted

Feather.' His nobility was great, and very ancient; he justly declared

that he was descended in a direct line from Acamapichtzin, first

king of Mexico, whose hieroglyphic he retained on the totem of his

tribe, through that veneration which our fathers displayed for their

ancestors. This hieroglyphic, which his descendants have preciously

retained, is composed of a hand grasping a number of reeds, which is

the literal translation of the name of the noble chief of the race.

Twisted Feather had a daughter, eighteen summers old, lovely and

graceful: her name was Ova, and she ran over the prairie grass without

bending it; gentle, pensive, and timid as the virgin of the first

loves, her black eyes had not yet been fixed on one of the warriors of

the tribe, who all sought to please her."

"Ova wore a tunic of water-green colour, fastened round her waist by

a wampum belt, with a large golden buckle. When she danced before her

father, the old man's forehead became unwrinkled, and a sunbeam passed

into his eyes. Her father had often told her that it was time for her

to marry, but Ova shook her head with a smile; she was happy, and the

little bird that speaks to the heart of maidens had not yet sung to her

the gentle strains of love."

"Still a moment arrived when Ova lost all her careless gaiety. The

young girl, so laughing and so wild, became suddenly pensive and

dreamy--she loved."

"Ova went to find her father. The chief at this moment was presiding

over the great council of the nation in the great medicine calli. The

maiden advanced, and knelt respectfully before her father."

"'What is it, my daughter?' the chief said, as he passed his hand

gently through her long hair, which was fine as aloe threads."

"'My father,' she replied, looking down modestly, 'I love, and am

beloved.'"

"'My daughter, what is the name of the chief who is so happy that your

choice should have fallen on him?'"

"'He is not a chief, my father; he is, perchance, one of the most

obscure warriors of the tribe, although he is one of the bravest. He

works in the gold mine that belongs to you.'"

"The chief frowned, and a flash of anger sparkled in his glance."

"'My father,' the maiden continued, as she embraced his legs, 'if I did

not marry him, I should die.'"

"The chief gazed at his daughter for a moment, and saw her so sad and

resigned, that pity entered his heart. He, too, loved his daughter--his

only child; for the Master of Life had called away the others to the

happy hunting grounds. The aged man did not wish his daughter to die."

"'You shall marry the man you love,' he said to her."

"'Do you promise it to me on the sacred totem of the nation, father?'"

"'On the sacred totem of the nation I promise it; speak, therefore,

without fear. What is the name of the man you love?'"

"'He is called the Clouded Snake, father.'"

"The old man sighed."

"'He is very poor,' he muttered."

"'I am rich enough for both.'"

"'Be it so. You shall marry him, my daughter.'"

"Ova rose, sparkling with joy and happiness, bowed to the assembly, and

left the medicine lodge."

"Clouded Snake was poor, it is true--even very poor, since he was

constrained to work in the gold mine; but he was young, he was brave,

and was considered the handsomest of all the warriors of his age."

"Tall, robust, and muscular, Clouded Snake formed as complete a

contrast with Ova, who was pale and frail, as a noble buffalo does with

a graceful antelope. Perhaps their love emanated from this contrast."

"The young man, though he was so poor, found means to give his

betrothed perfumes of grizzly bears' grease, necklaces of alligators'

teeth, and wampum girdles."

"The young people Were happy. On the eve of the marriage, Clouded Snake

laid at Ova's feet buckles of gold and two bracelets of shells, mingled

with beads of pure gold."

"Ova accepted these presents with a smile, and said to her betrothed,

as she left him,--"

"'Farewell; we part today to see each other tomorrow, and tomorrow we

shall be united for ever.'"

"On the next day Clouded Snake did not come. Ova waited for several

months; Clouded Snake did not reappear."

"In vain, by the chief's orders, was the young man sought for

throughout the country; no one had seen him, no one had heard speak of

him."

"Clouded Snake no longer existed, except in the heart of Ova."

"She wept for him, and people tried to make her believe that he had

gone to fight the white men; but Ova shook her head, and wiped away her

tears."

"Forty times did the snow cover the summit of the mountains, and yet

it had been impossible to clear up the mystery of Clouded Snake's

disappearance."

"One day some labourers at work in the gold mine, which had belonged

to Ova's father, and was now her property, while going far down an old

gallery which had been abandoned for a long time, exhumed a corpse as

miraculously preserved as the mummies of the _teocallis_ are in their

bandages."

"The warriors flocked up to see this strange corpse, clothed in a dress

belonging to another age, and no one recognised it."

"Ova, who was then old, and who, to please her father had married

the great chief of his nation when her last hope expired, went with

her husband to the spot where the corpse was exposed to the sight of

visitors."

"Suddenly she started, and tears darted from her eyes; she had

recognised Clouded Snake, as handsome as on the day when she left him

with the hope of a speedy reunion. She, on the other hand, aged and

bowed down more by grief than years, was weak and tottering."

"Ova wished that the corpse of the man whom she had been on the point

of marrying, and whom the evil spirit had torn from her, should be

restored to the mine from which it had been removed after forty years.

The mine, by the orders of the chief's wife, although extremely rich,

was abandoned and shut up."

"Ova ordered a hieroglyphic to be carved on the stone that covers the

body of her betrothed, which may be thus translated:--'This sepulchre

is without a body; this body is without a sepulchre; but by itself it

is a sepulchre and a body.'"

"Such," Doña Esperanza added, as she finished the legend, and laid

down the quipos, "is the story of the lovely Ova, daughter of the

great chief Twisted Feather, and of Clouded Snake the miner, just as

it occurred, and just as Ova herself ordered it to be preserved by a

special quipos for future ages."

Doña Esperanza stopped, and there was a moment's silence.

"Well, señorita," the sachem asked, "has the legend interested you?"

"Through its simplicity it is most touching, señor," the young lady

answered; "still, there is something vague and unsettled about the

whole story, which impairs its effect."

Thunderbolt smiled gently.

"You find, do you not, that we are not told the precise spot where

the events of the narrative occurred, that Sonora is very large, and

that the town in which Twisted Feather commanded is not sufficiently

indicated?"

"Pardon me, señor," the young lady remarked, with a blush, "such

geographical notions, though doubtless very useful in settling the spot

where events have occurred, interest me personally very slightly. What

I find incomplete is the story itself; the rest does not concern me."

"More so than you suppose, perhaps, señorita," the sachem remarked;

"but pray be good enough to state your objections more fully."

"Excuse me, señor, but I have not yet recovered from the surprise which

the events that have occurred during the last few hours have occasioned

me, and I explain myself badly, in spite of my efforts."

"What do you mean, señorita, and to what events are you referring?"

"To those which are taking place at this very moment. Having started

from home to ask an interview of a wood ranger, whom I naturally

supposed encamped in the open air, and shared the life of privations

of his fellows, I meet, on the contrary, persons who overwhelm me

with attentions, and, under an Indian appearance, conceal all the

refinements of the most advanced civilization. You can understand how

this strange contrast with what surrounds me must surprise, almost

frighten me, who am a young girl, ignorant of the world, and have

undertaken a step which many persons would disapprove if they knew it."

"You are going too far, my dear child," Doña Esperanza replied, as

she tenderly embraced her; "what you have seen here ought not to

surprise you. My husband is one of the principal chiefs of the great

Confederation of the Papazos; but he and I, in other times, lived the

life of white men. When we withdrew to the desert, we took with us our

civilized habits, and that is the entire mystery. As for the step you

have taken, it has nothing that is not most honourable to you."

"I thank you for these kind remarks, and the interpretation you are

pleased to give to a step conceived, perhaps, a little too giddily,

and executed more giddily still."

"Do not regret it, señorita," said Thunderbolt; "perhaps it has helped

your father's affairs more than you suppose."

"As for the story of Ova," Doña Esperanza continued, with a gentle

smile, "this is how it ended:--the poor woman died of despair a few

days after the discovery of the man she ought to have married, and whom

she had held in such tender memory for so long a time. At her last hour

she expressed a desire to be united in death to the man from whom she

had been separated in life. This last wish was carried out. The two

betrothed repose side by side in the mine, which was at once closed

again, and no one has dreamed of opening it up to the present day."

"I thank you, señora, for completing your narrative. Still," Marianna

said, with a sigh, "this gold mine must, in my opinion, be very poor,

since the Spaniards, when they seized the country, did not attempt to

work it."

"Not at all, my dear child; on the contrary, it is excessively rich.

But Ova's secret has been so well kept that the Spaniards remained in

ignorance of its existence."

The two ladies were by this time alone, as the sachem and his son had

left the tent.

"It is strange," the maiden murmured, answering her own thoughts rather

than Doña Esperanza's remark.

The earnestness with which the lady insisted on referring to the legend

astounded and interested her. A secret foreboding warned her that the

story had a hidden object, whose importance still escaped her, though

she was burning to discover it. Doña Esperanza attentively followed in

her face the various feelings that agitated her, and were reflected

in her expressive face as in a mirror. She continued--"This is why

the mine was not discovered when the Spaniards seized the town where

it was situated. It had been stopped up for a very long time. The old

inhabitants were killed or expelled by the conquerors; and those who

escaped were careful not to reveal this secret to their oppressors.

The latter destroyed the town, and built an immense hacienda over its

mines."

"But--pardon me for questioning you thus, señora--how have all these

facts come to your knowledge?"

"For a very simple reason, my dear child. Ova was my ancestress, and

the knowledge of this mine is consequently a family secret for us. I

am, perhaps, the only person in the world who at the present day knows

its exact position."

"Yes, I understand you," the young lady said, becoming very pensive.

"Still you are trying to discover, are you not, my dear child?" the old

lady continued, kindly interrogating her, "Why, instead of letting you

speak of the important matters that brought you here, my son urged you

to ask this story of me; and why, without pity for your filial sorrow,

I consented to do so; and why, now that it is ended, I am anxious for

you to learn the minutest details."

The girl hid her face in the old lady's bosom, and burst into tears.

"Yes," she said, "you have understood me, madam, and pray pardon me."

"Pardon you for what, my dear child? For loving your father? On the

contrary, you are quite right. But yours is no common nature, my

child; though we have only been acquainted for a few hours, you have

sufficiently appreciated my character, I think, to recognise the

interest I take in you."

"Yes, yes, I believe you, madam; I must believe you."

"Well, console yourself, my dear girl; do not weep thus, or I shall be

forced to follow your example; and I have still some details to add to

this interminable story."

The maiden smiled through her tears. "Oh, you are so kind, madam," she

answered.

"No, I love you, that is all, and," she added, with a sigh, "I have

done so for a long time."

Doña Marianna gazed at her with amazement.

"Yes, that surprises you," she continued, "and I can well understand

it. But enough of this subject for the present, my darling, and let us

return to what I wanted to say to you."

"Oh, I am listening to you, madam."

"I will now tell you where Ova's town stood, and its name. It was

called Cibola."

"Cibola!" the girl exclaimed.

"Yes, dear child, the very spot where the Hacienda del Toro was

afterwards built by your ancestor, the Marquis de Moguer. Now do you

understand me?"

Without replying, Doña Marianna threw herself into the old lady's arms,

who pressed her tenderly to her bosom.

CHAPTER XXXII.

KIDD REAPPEARS.

Kidd had left the atepetl of the Papazos with rage in his heart, and

revolved in his mind the most terrible schemes of vengeance. Not

that the bandit had in his gangrened heart any sensitive chord which

noble sentiment could cause to vibrate; to him it was a matter of the

slightest importance that he had been publicly branded and expelled

like the lowest scoundrel; humiliation glided over him without

affecting him, and what most enraged him was to see the fortune dried

up which Don Marcos de Niza had momentarily flashed before his greedy

eyes, and which he hoped, by dissimulation and treachery, to invest

in his capacious pocket in the shape of gold ounces. Now he could no

longer dream of it; the slightest information he could henceforth

accidentally pick up would not be sufficiently important to be paid for

at the price given for the first.

There was something desperate in such an alternative for a man like

the bandit; but what should he do? With all his other qualities, the

adventurer combined the rather strange one, for him, of only being

brave like the Coyotes, which only attack in pairs, and when they are

certain of conquering; that is to say, he was an utter coward when

compelled to meet an enemy face to face, although he would not hesitate

to kill him from behind a bush. The adventurer did not deceive himself

about this peculiarity of his character, and the mere idea of picking

a quarrel with Stronghand caused him an instinctive terror, externally

revealed by a general trembling.

He therefore very sadly and despairingly proceeded, along the road to

the Real de Minas, not knowing yet whether he should enter the pueblo,

or push further on and seek fortune elsewhere, when his attention was

attracted to the left hand of the road he was following by an unusual

and continuous undulation of the tall grass. The bandit's first impulse

was to stop, dismount, and conceal himself and his horse behind an

aloe tree, which afforded a temporary shelter. It is extraordinary to

see how villains, who care nothing for the life of others, display

remarkable instinct of self-preservation, and what tricks they employ

to escape an often imaginary danger. When the bandit believed himself

in safety, at least for the moment, he began watching most carefully

the undulation of the grass, which incessantly drew nearer to him.

A quarter of an hour passed thus; then the grass parted, and the bandit

perceived three horsemen coming towards him, entirely dressed in black.

With that peculiar scent scoundrels have for detecting policemen,

Kidd did not deceive himself; he at once recognised the three persons

as belonging to the noble corporation of Alguaciles. A fourth, also

dressed in black, in whose ugly features an expression of bestial craft

and wickedness seemed to be reflected, was evidently the leader of the

party,--an Alguacil mayor, a race of rapacious vultures, without heart

or entrails; a manso Indian, dressed in torn trousers, and with bare

head, arms, and legs, was running in front of the others, and evidently

acting as guide.

"Hold, José!" the most important of the men shouted to the Indian,

employing the general nickname of these poor fellows. "Hold, José!

Mind you do not lead us astray, scoundrel, if you do not want to have

your ribs broken; we must arrive this night at the Real de Minas of

Quitovar, whither important business summons us."

"You would arrive there before two o'clock, Excellency," the Indian

answered, with a crafty laugh, "if instead of riding at a foot pace

you would consent to give your mule the spurs; if not we shall not get

there till after sunset."

"_¡Válgame dios!_" the first speaker said, angrily; "What will my

honourable client, El Señor Senator Don Rufino Contreras say, who

must have been awaiting my arrival for several days with the utmost

impatience?"

"Nonsense, Excellency! You will arrive soon enough to torture honest

people."

"What do you dare to say, scoundrel?" the bailiff exclaimed, raising

the chicote he held in his hand.

The Indian parried with a stick the blow which would have otherwise

fallen on his loins, and answered drily, as he seized the mule by the

bridle, and made it rear, to the great alarm of the rider,--

"Take care, señor; though you call me José, and treat me no better nor

worse than a brute, we are no longer in one of your civilized towns,

but on the prairie; here I have my foot on my native heath, and will

not put up with the slightest insult from you. Treat me as an idiot,

if you like, and I shall not care for it, as it comes from one whom I

utterly despise; but bear this in mind,--on the slightest threatening

gesture you make, I will immediately thrust my knife into your heart."

And while saying this, the man flashed in the bailiffs terrified face a

long knife, whose blue blade had a sinister lustre.

"You are mad, José--quite mad," the other answered, affecting a

tranquillity he was far from feeling at the announcement; "I never

intended to insult you, and I shall never do so; so let go my mule's

bridle, pray, and we will continue our journey in peace."

"That will do," the Indian said, with his eternal grin; "that is the

way you must speak for us to remain good friends during the period we

shall have to pass together."

And after letting go the mule, he began trotting in front with that

swinging pace of which Indians alone possess the secret, and which

enables them to follow a trotting horse for several days, without

becoming tired.

The conversation had taken place sufficiently near to Kidd's lurking

place for him to overhear every syllable. Suddenly he started. An idea

doubtless crossed his mind, for after allowing the horsemen to go on,

but not too far for him to catch them up, he left his thicket, and

went after them, growling between his teeth,--"What the deuce relations

can these birds of night have with Don Rufino Contreras? Well, we shall

soon see."

On turning into the track he saw the party a short distance ahead of

him. The latter, whom the sound of his horse's hoofs stamping on the

dry ground, had already warned, looked back rather anxiously, the more

so because the bandit, in spite of the ease he tried to effect, had

nothing very prepossessing about his appearance or face. Policemen

could form no mistake about him. Hence they did not do so, and at the

first glance recognised him as what he really was--that is to say,

a bandit. But in Mexico, as in many other countries which pretend,

rightly or wrongly, to be civilized, policemen and ruffians have the

best possible reasons for living on friendly terms; and had it not

been for the solitary spot where he was, Don Parfindo Purro (such was

the Alguacil's name) saw nothing very disagreeable in meeting the

adventurer. The latter continued to advance, talking to his horse,

tickling its flanks with his spur, galloping, with his fist proudly

placed on his hip, and his hat pulled impudently over his right ear.

"_Santas tardes, caballeros_," he said, as he joined the party of men

in black, and slightly checked his horse, so that it should keep pace

with the others, "by what fortunate accident do I meet you so late on

this desolate road?"

"Fortune is with us, caballero," Don Parfindo answered, politely;

"this accursed Indian has led us a roundabout road; I really believe,

whatever he may say, that we have lost our way, or shall soon do so."

"That is possible," Kidd observed; "and without being too curious, will

you allow me to ask whither you are going? Moreover, to set you at your

ease by displaying confidence, I will inform you that I am going to

Quitovar."

"Ah!" said the bailiff, "That is very lucky."

"Why so?"

"Because I am going there too, in the first instance. Are we still a

great distance from the pueblo?"

"Only a few leagues; we shall arrive before two o'clock, and if you

will allow me to take your guide's place, I shall be delighted to show

you the way, which, I confess, is not very easy to find."

"Your proposal delights me, caballero, and I most heartily accept it."

"That is agreed; if you do not know the pueblo, I will take you to a

capital house, where you will be excellently treated."

"I thank you, caballero; it is the first time I have been to Real de

Minas. I am a bailiff at Hermosillo."

"A bailiff!" the bandit said; "¡Caray! That is a famous profession."

"At your service, were I competent for it," Don Parfindo said, puffing

himself out.

"I do not say no," Kidd continued, giving himself an air of importance.

"When a man carries on a large business, as I do, the acquaintance

of a caballero so distinguished as you appear to be can only be most

advantageous."

"You confound me, señor."

"Oh, do not thank me, for what I say I really think; I was speaking

about it only a few days back to Don Rufino Contreras, who is also very

rich, and consequently has numerous trials."

"Do you know Don Rufino?" the bailiff asked, with rising respect.

"Which one?--The illustrious senator?"

"Himself."

"He is one of my most intimate friends. Are you acquainted with him

too?"

"He has instructed me to proceed in his name against certain debtors of

his."

"_¡Viva Dios!_ This is a strange meeting," the adventurer exclaimed,

with a radiant face.

"What a worthy señor!" the bailiff remarked, "And so honourable!"

The two scoundrels understood each other. The acquaintance was formed,

and confidence sprang up quite naturally. The conversation was

continued on the best possible terms; Kidd adroitly led the other to

make a general confession, and the latter, believing that he had to do

with an intimate of Don Rufino, told him the secret of the negotiations

he was intrusted with, without any visible pressure. Altogether this is

what the adventurer learned:--Don Rufino Contreras, impelled by some

motive unknown, had secretly bought up the claims of all the persons to

whom the Marquis de Moguer was indebted. So soon as he held them, he

had taken out writs, through a third party, against the Marquis, so as

to dispossess him of the small property left him--among other things,

the Hacienda del Toro, which he evinced a great desire to possess. His

proposal to marry Doña Marianna was only a bait offered to the good

faith of Don Hernando, in order to lull his prudence and remove his

suspicions. What he wanted was to become, at any price, proprietor of

the hacienda. But still, wishing to retain the mask of friendship, by

the aid of which he had hitherto deceived the Marquis, he had put the

matter in the hands of a man of his own, who had orders to push matters

to extremities, and accept no arrangement. Don Parfindo Purro was the

bailiff selected: he was the bearer of the most perverse instructions

and strictest orders, and was resolved to accomplish to the letter

what he emphatically called his duty.

In Mexico, we are compelled to allow that justice is the most derisive

buffoon and horrible thing imaginable. The judges, most of whom are

utterly ignorant, and who act _gratis_, as their salaries are never

paid, requite themselves for this annoyance on the contending parties,

whom they plunder without pity or shame; and this is carried to such

an extent, that, so soon as the trial is begun, it is known who will

win and who lose. It is little consequence whether the trial be

criminal or civil. Money decides everything. To give only one instance:

A man commits a murder, the fact is confirmed--known by all; the

assassination has been performed in bright day, in the open street, and

in the presence of a hundred persons. The relations of the victim go

before the _juez de lettras_--that is to say, the criminal judge; he

lets them explain the affair in its fullest details, and gives no signs

of approval or disapproval; but when they have finished, he asks them

the simple question--

"Have you any witnesses?"

"Yes," the relatives answer.

"Very good; and these witnesses are doubtless men of good position and

of a certain value?"

"Certainly. Each of them is worth a thousand piastres."

"Well," says the judge, "and how many may there be?"

"Ten."

"What a pity!" he then continues, in his mildest accents; "Your

adversary, who between ourselves, appears to me a highly distinguished

caballero, has exactly the same number of witnesses as you; but his are

far more important people, for each is worth two thousand piastres."

The matter is settled. If the relatives of the murdered man are not

rich enough to make a higher bid, the assassin is not only acquitted,

but discharged without a stain on his character, and is at perfect

liberty, if he think proper, to kill another of his enemies on the

same day and the same terms. Such is the way in which the Mexicans

understand justice. We can therefore understand how an enormously rich

man like Don Rufino Contreras could defeat the Marquis, the state of

whose fortune did not allow him to buy the judges.

The adventurer listened with the most earnest attention to the

revelations the bailiff made with a certain degree of complacency.

Kidd, who was accustomed to fish in troubled waters, had found an

opportunity for a famous haul in these revelations. His plan was

at once formed, and so soon as he came in sight of the pueblos his

arrangements were made. It was late when the travellers reached the

barriers of the Real de Minas; the sun had set long before, and the

sentries, although they recognised the adventurer as one of their side,

made some difficulty about letting him and his companions into the

town. They were engaged for nearly an hour in parleying outside, and

it was only by the express orders of the commandant that they obtained

permission at last to enter the pueblo, which had been converted into a

regular fortress.

Kidd, still continuing to act as guide to his comrades, led them

straight to a mesón, where he left them at liberty to rest themselves,

after warmly recommending them to the landlord. Then the bandit, after

placing his horse in the corral, and carefully wrapping himself up in

his zarapé, and pulling the brim of his hat over his eyes to escape

recognition, glided through the darkness to the house of Don Marcos de

Niza, which he entered. The captain, as we said, was accessible at all

hours of the day or night, to any person who had news to communicate.

At this moment he was in the same study where he had already held a

conversation with Master Kidd. On noticing the adventurer, the captain

raised his eyes, and without leaving his chair, he said--"Ah, is that

you, Master Kidd? Your absence has been long; but for all that, you are

welcome, if you bring good news."

The bandit gave a meaning smile.

"My news is excellent, captain," he said, laying a marked stress on the

words, "especially for you."

"_¡Cuerpo de Cristo!_ I hope so, for am I not commandant of the town?"

"Yes; but I am not going to talk with you about politics at present,

Excellency."

"In that case, go to the deuce, scoundrel," the captain said, shrugging

his shoulders angrily; "do you think I have nothing more important to

do than listen to the rubbish you may please to invent and tire my ears

with?"

"I invent nothing, Excellency. Fortune has this very day granted me

the opportunity of catching a secret it is most important for you to

know--that is all."

"Well, tell me what this mighty secret is."

"It relates to your private affairs, Excellency."

"My affairs!" the captain repeated, bursting into a laugh; "Hang it

all! Have I any?"

"If the secret does not relate directly to you, it interests in a most

eminent degree one of your nearest relatives?"

"Ah! who is he?"

"The Marquis de Moguer."

The captain became serious; he frowned with a menacing expression,

which made Kidd tremble in spite of his well-bred effrontery.

"Speak, and be brief," he said to him.

"Nothing will suit me better."

The captain took several ounces from the table drawer, which he threw

to the bandit, who caught them in their flight, and stowed them away

with a grin of satisfaction in his huge pockets.

"You will not regret your money, Excellency," he said.

"I hope not; and now go on, scoundrel, as you are paid."

Kidd, without further pressing, related in its fullest details all that

had occurred between himself and the bailiff on the road. The captain

listened with the most earnest attention.

"Is that all?" he asked, when the other stopped.

"Yes, Excellency."

"Good; now be off. You will continue to watch this man, and report to

me all he does."

And he dismissed him with a wave of the hand. The adventurer bowed, and

went away. When alone, the captain reflected for a few minutes, and

then wrote a letter, sealed it, and summoned his orderly, who at once

made his appearance.

"Isidro," the captain said to him, "at all risks this letter must be in

the hands of the Marquis de Moguer within six hours at the most. You

understand me? --at all risks?"

"It shall be done, captain."

"Take this for yourself,"--and he handed him some gold coins,--"and

this pass, which will enable you to go in and out. You must be off at

once."

Without replying, the soldier withdrew, after concealing the letter in

the breast of his uniform.

"And now," the captain muttered to himself; "let them come on."

CHAPTER XXXIII.

COMPLICATIONS.

After leaving the captain's study, Kidd halted in the anteroom, not

because he had any plan formed, but through that instinct which urges

villains of his species not to leave a good place till compelled. He

had heard the captain summon his asistente. The latter, after a few

moments' absence, returned to the anteroom with a look of importance

which at once caused the adventurer to reflect, and suggested to him

the idea of knowing what the conversation was the soldier had held

with his chief. Isidro, the captain's asistente, was an Opatas Indian,

of tried bravery and fidelity. Unluckily, though he did his duty in

the battlefield, his intellect was rather restricted, and, like all

Indians, he had a propensity for strong liquors, which had several

times brought him to great grief. Kidd was familiar with the soldier,

and knew his weakness; hence his plan was formed in a moment.

"Since you remain here," he said to him, "I shall be off: when I came

to speak to the captain, I left a nearly full bottle of mezcal at the

tocanda of Master Cospeto, and on my word I feel inclined to go and

finish it. I will not invite you to accompany me, for your duty keeps

you here; otherwise you may be assured that I should be delighted to

empty it with you."

"My duty does not keep me here," the Indian answered; "on the contrary,

I have a long ride to make this very night."

"A long ride!" the adventurer exclaimed; "¡Caray! It is the same case

with me, and as I know no better preservative against the night cold

than mezcal, that is why I meant to empty the bottle before mounting.

If your inclinations lie the same way, it is at your service."

We will allow that the asistente hesitated.

"Have you also a ride to take?" he asked.

"Yes, and I suspect that yours is as long as mine: well, I am going a

long distance; what direction do you follow?"

"The captain sends me to Arispe," the bandit answered, boldly.

"Why, how singular that is! We shall follow the same road."

"That is indeed strange. Well, is it settled?--Will you drink the

stirrup-cup with me?"

"Upon due reflection, I see no harm in it."

"Let us make haste, then," the brigand continued, for he feared lest

the captain might catch him with his asistente; "we have no time to

lose."

For reasons best known to himself, the adventurer left the Indian at

the house door, bidding him bring his horse to Cospeto's rancho, where

he would join him in a few minutes, and they would set out on their

journey together. Kidd merely wanted to warn the mesonero, with whom he

had lodged the bailiff, not to let him go away on any excuse--"Watch

him closely, and at the slightest suspicious movement go and inform

Captain Don Marcos Niza"--who, for reasons connected with the public

safety, did not wish to let these strangers out of sight. The mesonero

promised to carry out his instructions faithfully; and, re-assured on

this point, the adventurer fetched his horse from the corral, and went

to join the Opatas at Señor Cospeto's rancho, as had been agreed on.

On reaching the inn by one street, to his great satisfaction he saw

the orderly arriving by another, mounted, and ready to start. The two

friends entered the rookery to which we have already conducted the

reader.

The adventurer honourably kept his word: not only did he order a bottle

of mezcal, but at the same time one of excellent Catalonian refino.

The Indian's prudence was entirely routed by such generosity; the

more so because he had no reason to distrust the bandit, with whom he

had already made several excursions, and regarded him as an excellent

comrade. Kidd, in order to avoid any doubts on the part of his comrade,

was careful not to ask him any questions; he merely poured him out

glass after glass, and when the bottles were empty, the Indian had

drunk the greater part of their contents, as Kidd desired to retain his

coolness. When they had finished, the bandit rose, paid the score, and

called for another bottle of refino.

"This is for the road," he said.

"An excellent idea," remarked the asistente, whose eyes flashed like

carbuncles, and who was beginning to have a very vague notion of the

state of affairs. They left the rancho, and mounted their horses.

Kidd was rather anxious as to how he should get out of the rancho, as

he had no pass of any sort; for if it were difficult to get into the

Real de Minas, it was quite as much to get out of it. Luckily, for the

adventurer, Isidro's pass was in perfect order, and when he showed it

at the gate, where he was perfectly well known to all the soldiers on

duty, he said, pointing to Kidd, "This caballero goes with me." The

soldiers, aware that Isidro was the confidential man of the captain,

did not offer the slightest difficulty, but allowed them to pass, and

wished them a lucky journey. When the adventurer found himself in

the open country he drew a deep breath of relief, as he gave his too

confiding comrade a sarcastic glance.

"Now," he said, "we must take the shortest road, in order to arrive

sooner."

"What, are there two roads?" Isidro asked.

"There are ten," Kidd replied coolly; "but the shortest runs almost in

a right line, and passes close to the Hacienda del Toro."

"Let us take that, then."

"Why that more than another?"

"Because I am going to the hacienda."

"Ah," the adventurer said, pleasantly, "let us take a drink, and

start." Uncorking the bottle, he took a pull, and then handed it to his

companion, who imitated him, with an evident expression of pleasure.

"You say, then," Kidd resumed, as he smacked his lips, "That you are

going to the Hacienda del Toro?"

"Yes, I am."

"It is a good house, and most hospitable."

"Do you know it?"

"¡Caray! I should think so. The majordomo is my intimate friend. What

happy days I have spent with that excellent Señor Paredes!"

"Since it is your road, why not call there with me as you are certain

of a kind reception?"

"I do not say I will not; I suppose you are going to ask the Marquis

for some men, as soldiers are scarce at the pueblo?"

"I do not think that is the case. Don Hernando has already authorized

the captain to enlist his miners, and the peons left him he will need

to defend the hacienda in the event of an attack."

"That is true; besides, it is no business of mine. Let every man have

his own secrets."

"Oh, I do not think there is any great secret in the matter: the

captain is a near relation of the Marquis; they often write to each

other, and the letter I am ordered to deliver will only refer, I

expect, to family matters and private interests."

"That is probable; the more so, because it is said that the Marquis's

affairs are in a very bad state at present."

"So it is said; but I have heard that they are about to be settled."

"¡Caray! I wish it with all my heart, for it is a pity to see one of

the oldest families of the province reduced. Suppose we drink the

health of the Marquis?"

"With pleasure."

The bottle was hugged for the second time by the two companions. A

man may be an Opatas Indian, that is to say, of herculean stature,

with a breast arched like a tortoiseshell; but he cannot swallow with

impunity such a prodigious quantity of alcohol as Isidro had absorbed

without beginning to feel intoxicated. The asistente, strong though he

was, tottered on his horse: his eyes began to close, and his tongue to

grow thick. But, excited as he was by liquor, the more difficulty he

experienced in speaking the more he wanted to do so. The adventurer

eagerly followed the progress of his comrade's intoxication, while

careful not to let him see that he was aware of his condition.

"Yes, yes," the Indian continued, "the affairs of the Marquis might

easily be arranged sooner than is supposed, comrade."

"With his name it cannot be difficult for him to procure money."

"Nonsense! That is not the point, and I know what I know."

"Exactly, Señor Isidro; and as what you know may be a secret, I will

not urge you to tell it me."

"Did I say that it was a secret?" the Indian objected.

"No, but I suppose so."

"You are wrong to suppose so; and, besides, you are my friend, are you

not?"

"I believe so," the adventurer answered, modestly.

"Well, if you are my friend, I have nothing to conceal from you."

"That is true; still, if you consider it your duty to hold your

tongue--"

"Hold my tongue! Why so? Have you any pretence to silence me?"

"I? Heaven forbid, and the proof is, here's your health."

The Indian began laughing.

"That is what is called an unanswerable argument," he said, as

he placed the bottle to his lips and threw back his head, as if

contemplating the stars.

He remained in this position till all the remaining liquor had passed

down his throat.

"Ah!" he said, with an accent of regret, "It was good."

"What do you mean?" Kidd exclaimed, with pretended surprise; "Is there

none left?"

"I do not think so," the Indian remarked, with a drunkard's gravity;

"it is a pity that these bottles are so small."

And with that he threw it into the road.

"I agree with you that the rancheros are robbers."

"Yes," said the asistente, with a hiccough, "robbers; but soon--we

shall drink as much as we like."

"Eh, eh, that will not be unpleasant; but where will it be?"

"Where? Why, at the Hacienda del Toro."

"Yes, they never refuse a draught of mezcal to an honest man in that

house."

"Nonsense, a draught! You are jesting, comrade; whole bottles would

be nearer the truth. Besides, do you fancy the Marquis will look into

matters so closely at his daughter's marriage."

"What?"

"Where on earth do you come from, that you are ignorant of that?

Nothing else is spoken of in the country."

"It is the first I have heard of it."

"Well, all the better; I will tell you. Doña Marianna, a pretty girl,

caray, is going to marry a senator, no one less."

The adventurer suddenly pricked up his ears.

"A senator?" he repeated.

"This seems to surprise you. Why should not a pretty girl marry a

senator? I consider you a curious comrade to doubt my word."

"I do not doubt it."

"Yes, you do; ugly brute that you are."

The intoxication of the Opatas was at its height. Excited even more by

the horse's gallop and the adventurer's artfully managed contradiction,

Isidro felt passion mount to his head. The intoxication of Indians is

horrible: they become raving madmen; their heated brain gives birth

to the strangest hallucinations, and under the influence of spirits

they are capable of the greatest crimes. The bandit was aware of all

these peculiarities, by which he hoped to profit; he had drawn from

the Indian all that he wanted to learn from him; he had squeezed him

like a lemon, and now only wanted to throw away the peel. We need

hardly say that at this hour of the night the road the two travellers

were following was completely deserted, and that Kidd did not fear

any overlookers of what he intended doing. They were riding at this

moment along the course of a small stream, a confluent of the Rio Bravo

del Norte, whose wooded banks afforded sufficient concealment. The

adventurer made his horse bound on one side, and drawing his machete,

exclaimed--

"Brute yourself, you drunken Opatas!" At the same moment he dealt the

poor follow such a sudden blow that he fell off his horse like a log.

But he rose to his feet tottering, and though stunned by the attack,

and seriously wounded, he drew his sabre, and rushed on the bandit with

a yell of fury. But the latter was on his guard; he attentively watched

his enemy's movements, and urged his horse forwards. The Indian, thrown

down by the animal's chest, rolled on the ground where he lay without

stirring. Was he dead? Kidd supposed so; but the bandit was a very

prudent man, Indians are crafty, and this death might be a feint. Kidd

therefore watched quietly a few paces from his victim, for he was in no

hurry.

A quarter of an hour elapsed, and the Indian had not made a movement.

Reassured by this complete immobility, the bandit resolved to dismount

and go up to him. All at once the Opatas rose; with a tiger leap he

bounded on the adventurer, twined his arms round him, and the two

men rolled on the ground, uttering savage yells, and trying to take

each other's life. It was a short but horrible struggle. The Opatas,

in spite of his wounds, derived a factitious strength from the fury

that animated him and the excitement produced by intoxication, which

was heightened by his ardent desire to take revenge for the cowardly

treachery of which he was the victim.

Unhappily, the efforts he was compelled to make opened his wounds,

and his blood flowed in streams; and with his blood he felt his

life departing. He made a supreme effort to strangle the miserable

adventurer in his clenched fingers; but the latter, by a sudden and

cleverly calculated movement, succeeded in liberating himself from

the Indian's iron grasp. He rose quickly, and at the moment when the

asistente recovered from his surprise, and prepared to renew the fight,

Kidd; raised his machete, and cleft the poor fellow's head.

"Dog! Accursed dog!" he yelled.

The Indian remained on his feet for a moment, tottering from right to

left; he took a step forward with outstretched arms, and then fell with

his face to the ground and the death rattle in his throat. This time he

was really dead.

"Well," Kidd muttered, as he thrust his machete several times into

the ground, in order to remove the blood, "that was tough work; these

demons of Indians must be killed twice to make sure they do not

recover. What is to be done now?"

He reflected for a few moments; then walked up to the corpse, turned

it over, and opened the breast of the uniform to obtain the letter.

He had no difficulty in finding it; he placed it in his own pocket,

and then stripped his victim, on the chance that he might want to use

his uniform. But two things troubled him: the first was the soldier's

horse; the second, his bag. The horse he made no attempt to seize; so

soon as its master was wounded, the animal started off at a gallop into

the wood; and as it would have been madness to try and find it on so

dark a night, the adventurer did not attempt it. Still the flight of

the horse alarmed him. Any person who found it would take it back to

the pueblo, and then suspicions would be aroused which might soon be

fixed on him, although he felt almost certain that the soldiers who saw

him leave the town with the asistente had not recognized him; but his

absence from the pueblo would appear suspicious to the captain, who was

acute, and as he knew Kidd so well, would not hesitate to accuse him.

The affair was embarrassing; but luckily for him, the adventurer was a

man of resources. Any other person would have fastened a stone to the

body, and thrown it into the stream, but the bandit carefully avoided

that. Such an expeditious method, while getting rid of the victim,

would only have increased the suspicions; besides water is not a good

keeper of secrets; one day or another the body would rise perhaps to

the surface, and then the nature of the wounds would reveal the hand

that dealt them. Kidd hit upon a more simple or sure plan, or at least

he thought so. With horrible coolness he scalped the corpse, and threw

the scalp into the stream, after rolling it round a large stone; this

first profanation accomplished, he made a cross cut on the victim's

chest, plucked out his heart, which he also threw into the river, and

then plaiting together a few flexible lianas, he formed a cord, which

he fastened to the feet of the corpse, and hung it from the main branch

of a tree.

"There!" he said, with satisfaction, when the horrible task was

completed, "That is all right, caray! I am ready to wager my share of

paradise with the first comer that the cleverest people will be taken

in. The Indians are in the field at this very moment, and hang me if

everyone will not be convinced that this drunken scoundrel was scalped

by the Apaches."

In fact, all the hideous mutilating which this villain has made his

victim undergo is employed by the Indian bravos upon their enemies.

Frightful though the deed was, Kidd consequently, in the impossibility

he found of disposing of the body, had employed the best mode in which

to divert suspicion.

Before leaving the scene of the murder, the bandit carefully washed the

soldier's clothes, and removed any blood stains from his own; then,

after assuring himself by a searching glance that there was nothing

to denounce the crime of which he had been guilty, he whistled up his

horse, and mounted, after carefully fastening the soldier's uniform

behind him. He rolled a cigarette, lit it, and set out again, with

the satisfaction of a man who had just succeeded in a most important

affair, which had caused him great anxiety.

It was somewhat by chance that Kidd originally told the asistente that

he was proceeding to Arispe; but the discovery of the letter, and

the soldier's confidential remarks, had converted this chance into

certainty. The bandit had discovered, amid all poor Isidro's drunken

maundering, one leading idea, and scented a profitable stroke of

business. He comprehended of what importance it would be to Don Rufino

to be informed of all that was going on at the pueblo at the Hacienda

del Toro, that he might be able to arrange his plans with certainty.

Consequently, the adventurer resolved to ride at full speed to Arispe,

determined to make the senator pay dearly for the news he brought,

while making a mental reservation, with that adventurous logic he was

so skilful in, to betray Don Rufino on the first opportunity, if his

own interests demanded that painful sacrifice of him. All this being

thoroughly settled in his mind, the bandit started at full speed in the

direction of Arispe, which city he reached by sunrise.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

TWO VILLAINS.

As Kidd was well known, he easily obtained admission to the town;

but when he had passed the gates, he reflected that it was too early

for him to call on the senator, who would still be asleep. Hence he

proceeded straight to a rancho he knew, a suspicious den, the usual

gathering place of fellows of his sort, where he was certain of a

hearty welcome by payment. In fact, the ranchero, who on first seeing

him assumed an ill-omened grimace, greeted him with the most agreeable

smile when he flashed before his eyes some piastres and gold coins.

The adventurer entered the rancho, left his horse in the corral, and

immediately began to arrange his toilette, which was as a general rule

neglected, but which his struggle with the asistente and his hurried

ride had rendered more disorderly than usual; and then waited, smoking

and drinking, for the hour to arrive when he should pay his respects to

Don Rufino.

The ranchero, who was thoroughly acquainted with his man and his

habits, prowled round him in vain to try and sound him and learn the

causes of his appearance in Arispe, where, for certain reasons the

police did not care to see him. This rendered his journeys to that town

rather few and far between; for the police there, as elsewhere, are

very troublesome to a certain class of citizens. But vainly did the

ranchero try all his cleverest ruses, his most delicate insinuations;

Kidd only answered his questions by insignificant phrases, crafty

smiles and winks; but in the end he remained perfectly impenetrable, a

want of confidence by which the ranchero was greatly insulted, and he

swore to himself to be avenged on the bandit for it some day.

When the Cabildo clock struck nine, Kidd thought it was time to be off;

he rose, majestically threw a piastre on the table in payment of his

score, wrapped his zarapé round him, and left the house.

"Whom can he have assassinated to be so rich?" the ranchero asked

himself, as he cunningly watched him depart.

A reflection which proved that the worthy ranchero was well acquainted

with his man.

Kidd felt he was watched, and hence carefully avoided going straight to

the senator's house; on the contrary, affecting the careless demeanour

of a lounger, he set out in the diametrically opposite direction. The

adventurer then walked about the town for half an hour, while carefully

avoiding the more frequented streets, for fear of attracting attention

on himself; thus he gradually approached the senator's mansion, and

hurriedly slipped under the zaguán, after assuring himself by a glance

all around that no one had seen him enter.

"Halloa, you fellow!" a voice suddenly shouted to him, making him start

and stop; "Where the deuce are you going like that? And what do you

want here?" The adventurer raised his eyes, and saw an individual of a

certain age, easily to be recognized as a domestic by his clothing, who

was standing in the hall door, and resolutely barring his way.

"What do I want?" the bandit repeated, to give himself time to seek an

answer.

"Yes, what do you want? That is clear enough, I suppose?"

"¡Caray! It is clear; what can I want except to see his Excellency,

Senator Don Rufino Contreras?"

"Excellent," the other said, derisively; "and do you suppose his

Excellency will receive you without knowing who you are?"

"And why not, if you please, señor?"

"Because you do not look like drawing room company."

"Do you think so?" the bandit said, haughtily.

"Why, that is plain enough; you much more resemble a lepero than a

caballero."

"You are not polite, my good fellow; what you say may be correct,

but the remark is uncalled for; patched clothes often conceal very

honourable caballeros, and if I have been ill treated by fortune, that

is no reason why you should throw it in my teeth so sharply."

"Enough of this, and be off."

"I shall not stir till I have seen the senator."

The manservant gave him a side look, which the other endured with

imperturbable coolness.

"Do you mean that?" he asked him.

"I really do."

"For the last time, I order you to be gone," the valet went on,

menacingly.

"Take care of what you are doing, comrade; I have to talk with the

señor, and he is expecting me."

"Expecting you?"

"Yes, me!" the scoundrel answered, majestically. The servant shrugged

his shoulders contemptuously: still he reflected, and asked with a more

conciliatory tone than he had yet employed--"Your name?"

"You do not want to know it; merely tell your master that I have just

come from the Hacienda del Toro."

"If that is the case, why did you not tell me so before?"

"Probably because you did not ask me. Go and announce me to your

master; you have kept me waiting too long already."

The domestic went off without replying, and Kidd took advantage of his

departure to instal himself in the vestibule. For a hundred reasons

he did not like the vicinity of the street, and he was glad to be no

longer exposed to the curious glances of passers-by. The absence of the

servant was not long, and when he returned, his manner was entirely

changed.

"Caballero," he said, with a bow, "if you will do me the honour of

following me, his Excellency is waiting for you."

"Fellow! Too insolent before, too humble now," the adventurer said,

crushing him with a contemptuous glance; "show the way."

And, laughing in his beard, he followed the footman, who was red with

anger and shame at this haughty reprimand.

Mexican houses, except in the great cities, are ordinarily built but

one story high; they are generally very slightly constructed, owing

to the earthquakes, which are extremely frequent in intertropical

countries, and destroy in a few seconds towns, and entirely ruin them.

The result of this mode of building is that nearly all the apartments

are on the ground floor; and then there are no staircases to ascend

or descend, which, in our opinion, is very agreeable. The adventurer

remarked with some degree of pleasure that the valet led him through

several rooms before reaching the one in which the senator was sitting;

at length he turned the handle of the door, threw it open, and stepped

aside to let the bandit pass. The latter walked in boldly, like a man

certain of a hearty reception.

"Ah!" said the senator, starting slightly at seeing him, "It is you."

"Yes," he replied, with a graceful bow.

"Retire," Don Rufino said to the valet; "I am not at home to anyone,

and do not come in till I call you." The valet bowed, went out, and

closed the door behind him. As if by common accord, the two stood

silently listening till the valet's footsteps died away in the

distance; then, without saying a word, Kidd threw open the folding

doors.

"Why do you do that?" Don Rufino asked him.

"Because we have to talk about serious matters; the _tapetes_ spread

over the floors of your rooms deaden footsteps, and your servant has an

excellent spy's face."

The senator made no remark; he doubtless recognised the correctness of

his singular visitor's argument.

"It is you then, bandit," he said at last.

"I fancy I can notice that you did not expect me?"

"I confess it; I will even add that I did not in the slightest desire

your visit."

"You are very forgetful of your friends, Don Rufino, and it makes me

feel sorry for you," the bandit answered, with a contrite air.

"What do you mean, scoundrel, by daring to use such language to me?"

Kidd shrugged his shoulders, drew up a butaca, and fell into it with a

sigh of relief.

"I must observe," he said, with the most imperturbable coolness, "that

you forgot to offer me a chair."

Then, crossing one leg over the other, he began rolling a cigarette,

a task to which he gave the most serious attention. The senator

frowningly examined the adventurer; for this bandit to dare assume such

a tone with him, he must have very powerful weapons in his hands, or be

the bearer of news of the highest importance. In either case he must be

humoured. Don Rufino immediately softened the expression of his face,

and handed the adventurer a beautifully chased gold mechero.

"Pray, light your cigarette, my dear Kidd," he said, with a pleasant

smile.

The bandit took the mechero, and examined it with admiration.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, with a splendidly feigned regret, "I have dreamed

for years that I possessed such a toy, but, unluckily, fortune has ever

thwarted me."

"If it please you so much," Don Rufino answered, with a mighty effort,

"I shall be delighted to make you a present of it."

"You are really most generous. Believe me, señor, that any present

coming from you will always be most precious in my eyes."

And, after lighting his cigarette, he unceremoniously placed the

mechero in his pocket.

"Of course your visit Has an object?" the senator said, after a

moment's interval.

"They always have, señor," the other answered, as he enveloped himself

in a cloud of blue smoke, which issued from his nose and mouth; "the

first was to see you."

"I thank you for the politeness; but I do not think that is sufficient

reason for forcing your way in here."

"Forcing is rather a harsh word, señor," the bandit said, sorrowfully;

but he suddenly changed his tone, and assumed his usual sharp, quick

way. "Come, Don Rufino, let us deal fairly, and not waste our time in

compliments which neither of us believes."

"I wish nothing better; speak, then, and the plague take you."

"Thank you. I prefer that mode of speech, for at least I recognise you.

I am about to give you an example of frankness; I have come, not to

propose a bargain, but to sell you certain information, and a letter of

the utmost importance to you, which I obtained--no matter how--solely

on your account."

"Good; let us see whether I can accept the bargain."

"In the first place, allow me to say two words, so as to thoroughly

establish our reciprocal position. Our situation has greatly changed

during the last few days; I no longer fear you, but you, on the

contrary, are afraid of me."

"I afraid of you?"

"Yes, señor, because I hold your secret, and you can no longer threaten

to kill me, as you did at our last interview."

"Oh! Oh! And why not, if you please?" the senator asked.

"Because we are alone, you are unarmed, I am stronger than you, and

at your slightest movement would blow out your brains like those of

a wild beast. Do you now comprehend me, my dear sir?" he added, as he

drew a brace of pistols from under his zarapé; "what do you think of

these playthings?"

"They are tolerably good, I should fancy," the senator replied, coldly;

"and what do you say to these?" he added, as he uncovered a brace of

magnificent pistols hidden under the papers scattered over the table at

which he was seated.

"They are detestable."

"Why so?"

"Because you would not dare use them."

The senator smiled ironically.

"Laugh, if you like, my master; I like best to see you treat the

matter in that way; but I repeat that you are in my power this time,

instead of my being in yours. I have delivered to Captain Don Marcos

Niza certain papers, which, were they opened by him, might, I fear,

gravely compromise you: there is one among them, the tenor of which

is as follows:--'I, the undersigned, declare that my valet, Lupino

Contrarias, has treacherously assassinated and deserted me in a

frightful desert, and there plundered me of everything I possessed,

consisting of two mules laden with gold dust, and two thousand three

hundred gold ounces in current money. On the point of appearing before

my God, and not hoping to survive my wounds, I denounce this wretch,

etc. etc. Signed--.' Shall I tell the name of the signer? But what is

the matter with you, my dear sir? Do you feel ill? You are as pale as a

corpse."

In truth, on hearing the narrative, which the bandit told with a

species of complacency, the senator was seized with such a violent fit

of terror, that for a moment he was on the point of fainting.

"It is extraordinary," the bandit continued, "how nothing can be

trusted to in this world. Just take the case of this excellent Lupino,

who had arranged a most delicious trap in the adroitest manner: for

more surety, he waited till they were on the other side of the Indian

border, at a spot where not a soul passes once in two years; he fires

his pistols point blank into his master's back, and goes off, of course

taking with him the fortune so honourably acquired. Well, fatality

decrees that the master whom he had every reason for believing dead is

not quite so; he has time to take out his tablets, and write in pencil

a perfectly regular denunciation, and then this demon of a fatality,

which never does things by halves, brings to these parts a hunter,

who picks up the tablets. It is enough to make a man turn honest,

deuce take me if it is not, had he not quite made up his mind to the

contrary."

During this long harangue the senator had time to recover from the

shock, and regain his coolness. By a supreme effort of the will he had

restored calmness to his face, and forced his lips to smile.

"¡Caray!" he said, with a laugh that resembled gnashing of teeth, "that

is a wonderful story, and admirably arranged. Permit me, dear señor, to

congratulate you on your inventive faculty; it is charming, on my word.

But who on earth do you expect to believe such a story?"

"You, first of all, señor, for you know the truth of the story better

than anybody."

"Nonsense! You are mad, upon my honour."

"Not quite so mad as you fancy, for the proofs are in my hands."

"I do not say they are not; but admitting the reality of the facts you

allege, they took place a long time ago; this Lupino Contrarias has

disappeared; he is dead, perhaps: as for his master, the pistols were

too well loaded to give him a chance of escape. Who takes any interest

in a dead man--especially in our country?"

"How do you know that the weapons were so carefully loaded?"

"I suppose so."

"Suppositions are always the plague in business matters. Between

ourselves, do you think it would be so difficult to find this Lupino

Contrarias in Rufino Contreras? I think not."

The senator felt his face flush involuntarily.

"Señor," he said, "such an insinuation--"

"Has nothing that needs offend you," Kidd interrupted him, calmly; "it

is a supposition, nothing more; now, continuing our suppositions, let

us admit for a moment that this master, whom his valet is persuaded he

killed, should be, on the contrary, alive and--"

"Oh, that is quite impossible."

"Do not interrupt me so, señor. And, I say, were to lay his hand on

his valet's shoulder, as I lay mine on yours, and assert, 'This is my

assassin!' what answer would you give to that?"

"I--I!" the senator exclaimed, wildly; "What answer should I give?"

"You would give none," the bandit continued, as he took and thrust into

his belt the pistols which the senator, in his trouble, had let fall;

"overcome by the evidence, and crushed by the very presence of your

victim, you would be irretrievably lost."

There was a second of horrible silence between these two men, who

looked at each other as if about to have a frightful contest. At length

the senator's emotion was calmed by its very violence; he passed his

hand over his damp forehead, and, drawing himself up to his full

height, said, sharply--

"After this, what would you of me?"

"I am waiting to hear your resolution before I offer any conditions."

Don Rufino Contreras remained for some minutes plunged in deep thought.

Kidd watched him attentively, ready to make use of his weapons if

he saw the senator attempt any suspicious movement; but the latter

did not even dream of it. Annihilated by the adventurer's staggering

revelation, he looked round him wildly, racking his mind in vain to

discover some way of escape from the terrible dilemma in which he was

placed. At length he raised his head, and looked the bandit fiercely in

the face.

"Well, yes," he said to him resolutely, "all that you have narrated

is true. I cowardly assassinated, to rob him of his fortune, the man

who offered me a helping hand in my misery, and treated me as a friend

rather than a servant. But this fortune, however badly it may have

been acquired, I possess; by its means I have acquired a position in

the world; by roguery and falsehood I have succeeded in imposing on

everybody; I have rank and a name; and death alone could make me resign

this position, so hardly attained. Now that I have spoken frankly

with you, it is your turn to do the same. Tell me the conditions you

intend to impose on me, and if they are fair, I will accept them; if

not, whatever the consequences may be, I shall refuse them. Take care,

for I am not the man to remain at the mercy of a villain like you;

sooner than accept so horrible a situation I would denounce myself, and

drag you down in my fall. Reflect carefully, then, before answering

me, comrade, for my proposition is in earnest. Once the bargain is

concluded between us, we will say no more about it. I give you ten

minutes to answer me."

This clear and categorical proposal affected the bandit more than he

liked to show. He understood that he had to do with one of those

indomitable men who, once they have made their mind up, never alter

it. The adventurer had nothing to gain by ruining Don Rufino, on the

contrary; moreover, that never entered into his plan: he hoped to

terrify him, and had succeeded; and now the only thing to be done by

these two men, so well suited to understand each other, since they had

frankly settled facts, was to attack the pecuniary question, and treat

it as skilfully as they could; Kidd, therefore prepared to begin the

assault.

CHAPTER XXXV.

A FRIENDLY BARGAIN.

Don Rufino, with his head resting on his right hand, was carelessly

playing with a paper knife, and patiently waiting till his visitor

thought proper to speak. This affected indifference perplexed the

adventurer: men of Kidd's species instinctively distrust all that does

not appear to them natural, and he felt embarrassed by this coolness,

for which he could not account, and which he feared might contain a

snare. At length he suddenly broke the silence.

"Before all, Don Rufino," he said, "I must tell you the motives of my

visit."

"I do not at all care about them," the senator answered, negligently;

"still, if you think my knowledge of them may be useful, pray let me

hear them."

"I think that when you have heard me, you will change your opinion,

señor, and recognise the importance of the service I propose to do you."

"That is possible, and I do not deny it," the senator said, ironically;

"but you will allow, my dear Señor Kidd, that you interfere so

thoroughly in my affairs, that it is difficult for me to decide, among

all the combinations your mind takes pleasure in forming, whether your

intentions are good or bad."

"You shall judge."

"Pray speak, then."

"I will tell you, in the first place, that a certain Alguacil, Don

Parfindo Purro by name, arrived yesterday at the pueblo of Quitovar."

"Very good," the senator answered, looking fixedly at the bandit.

"Now, I do not know how it is, but the bailiff had scarce reached the

pueblo ere by some strange fatality, Captain de Niza was informed of

his arrival."

"Only think of that," the senator remarked, ironically; "ever that

fatality of which you now spoke to me; it is really being the plaything

of misfortune."

In spite of the strong dose of effrontery with which nature had endowed

him, the adventurer felt involuntarily troubled.

Don Rufino continued, with a light laugh--

"And still, through this implacable fatality, the captain was not only

informed of the arrival of this worthy Don Parfindo, but also of the

reasons that brought him."

"How do you know that?" Kidd exclaimed, with pretended surprise.

"Oh, I guess it, that is all," the senator replied, with a slight shrug

of his shoulders; "but go on, pray; what you tell me is beginning to

become most interesting."

The bandit went on with imperturbable coolness.

"As you are aware, the captain is a relation of the Marquis de Moguer."

"Yes, and a very near relation."

"Hence he did not hesitate, but at once sent off a messenger to the

Hacienda del Toro, carrying a letter in which he probably gave the

most circumstantial details about the bailiff, and the mission he is

charged with."

At this revelation, Don Rufino suddenly doffed the mask of indifference

he had assumed, and smote the table fiercely with his fist.

"Ah, that letter!" he exclaimed, "That letter! I would give its weight

in gold for it."

"Very well, señor," the bandit remarked, with a smile; "as I am anxious

to prove to you the honesty of my intentions, I give it you for

nothing."

He took the letter from his pocket, and handed it to the senator; the

latter bounded on it like a tiger on its prey, and tore it from Kidd's

hands.

"Gently, gently; be good enough to remark that the seal is not broken,

and that, as the letter has not yet been opened, I am naturally

ignorant of its contents."

"That is true," the senator muttered, as he turned it over and over; "I

thank you for your discretion, señor."

"You are most kind," Kidd replied, with a bow.

"But," the senator continued, "how did this letter, addressed to Don

Hernando de Moguer, fall into your hands?"

"Oh, very simply," the other replied, lightly; "just fancy that the man

the captain selected to carry his missive was a friend of mine. As I

intended to pay you a visit at Arispe, and as I felt grieved at seeing

this man traverse such a dangerous road alone by night, I offered to

accompany him, and he consented. I do not know how it occurred, but on

the road we began quarrelling. In short, without any evil intentions

on my part, I declare to you, in the heat of the argument I gave him a

blow on the head with my machete, so well dealt that he was compelled

to die. It grieved me deeply, but there was no remedy; and as I was

afraid lest the letter might get into bad hands, I carried it off. That

is the whole story."

"It is really most simple," Don Rufino remarked, with a smile, and

broke the seal.

Kidd discreetly sat down again in his butaca, in order to leave the

senator at liberty to peruse this despatch, which seemed to interest

him greatly. He read it through with the utmost attention, and then let

his head hang on his chest, and fell into deep thought.

"Well," the adventurer at length asked, "is the news that letter

conveys so very bad, that it must entirely absorb you?"

"The news is of the utmost importance to me, señor; still, I ask myself

for what purpose you seized it?"

"Why, to do you a service, it strikes me."

"That is all very well; but, between ourselves, you had another object."

The bandit burst into a laugh.

"Did I not tell you that I wish to make a bargain?"

"That is true; but I am awaiting a full explanation from you."

"That is very difficult, señor."

"I admit that it is; well, I will put you at your ease."

"I wish for nothing better."

"I will offer you the bargain you do not like to propose."

"I see that you are beginning to understand me, and that, between the

pair of us, we shall come to something."

"You are not rich," the senator remarked, frankly approaching the point.

"I am forced to confess that I am not actually rolling in wealth," he

answered, with an ironical glance at his more than ragged attire.

"Well, if you like I will make you a rich man at one stroke."

"What do you mean by rich, señor?" the bandit asked, distrustfully.

"I mean to put you in possession of a sum which will not only protect

you from want, but also allow you to indulge your fancy, while living

honestly."

"Honesty is a virtue only within reach of those who can spend money

without wanting it," the adventurer remarked sententiously.

"Be it so; I will render you rich, to use your language."

"It will cost a good deal," Kidd answered, impudently, "for I have very

peculiar tastes."

"I dare say; but no matter. I have in Upper California a hacienda, of

which I will hand you the title deeds this very day."

"Hum!" said Kidd, thrusting out his upper lip contemptuously; "Is the

hacienda a fine one?"

"Immense; covered with ganado and manadas of wild horses; it is

situated near the sea."

"That is something, I allow; but that is not wealth."

"Wait a minute."

"I am waiting."

"I will add to this hacienda a round sum of one hundred thousand

piastres in gold."

The bandit's eyes were dazzled.

"What," he said, rising as if moved by a spring, and turning pale with

joy, "did you say--one hundred thousand?"

"Yes, I repeat," the senator continued, internally satisfied with the

effect he had produced; "do you think that with such a sum as that it

is possible to be honest?"

"_¡Viva Cristo!_ I should think so!" he exclaimed, gleefully.

"It only depends on yourself to possess it within a week."

"Oh, yes, I understand; there is a condition. ¡Caray! It must be very

hard for me to refuse it."

"This is the condition; listen to me, and, above all, understand me

thoroughly."

"¡Caray! I should think I would listen; a hacienda and one hundred

thousand piastres--I should be a fool to refuse them."

"You must not impede my prospects in any way; allow me to espouse Doña

Marianna, and on the day of the marriage hand me the tablets which you

took from the gentleman so unhappily assassinated by his valet."

"Very well. Is that all?"

"Not yet."

"Very good; go on."

"I insist that when you deliver me the tablets, you will supply proof

that the writer is really dead."

"¡Caray! That will be difficult."

"That does not concern me; it is your business."

"That is true; and how long will you give me for that?"

"Eight days."

"_¡Cuerpo de Cristo!_ It is not enough; the man is not so easily to be

taken unawares."

"Yes; but once that he is dead, you will be rich."

"I know that, and it is a consideration. No matter; caray! It will be a

tough job, and I shall risk my hide."

"You can take it or leave it."

"I take it, _viva Cristo!_ I take it. Never shall I find again such a

chance to become an honest man."

"Then that matter is quite settled between us?"

"Most thoroughly; you can set your mind at rest."

"Very good; but as you may change your mind someday, and feel an

inclination to betray me--"

"Oh, señor, what an idea!"

"No one knows what may happen. You will at once sign a paper on which

these conditions will be fully detailed."

"¡Caray! What you ask is most compromising."

"For both of us, as my proposals will be equally recorded."

"But, in that case, what is the good of writing such a paper, as it

will compromise you as much as me?"

"For the simple reason that if some day you feel inclined to betray

me, you cannot ruin me without ruining yourself, which will render you

prudent, and oblige you to reflect whenever a bad thought crosses your

brain."

"Do you distrust me, señor?"

"Have you any excessive confidence in me?"

"That is different; I am only a poor scamp."

"In one word, you will either accept the conditions I offer, or any

bargain between us will be impossible."

"Still, supposing, señor, I were to use the paper I hold, as you employ

such language to me?"

"You would not dare."

"Not dare!" he exclaimed; "And pray why not?"

"I do not know the motive; but I feel sure that if you could have used

that document, you would have done so long ago. I know you too well to

doubt it, Señor Kidd; it would be an insult to your intellect, whose

acuteness, on the contrary, it affords me pleasure to bear witness to.

Hence, believe me, señor, do not try to terrify me further with this

paper, or hold it to my chest like a loaded pistol, for you will do no

good. Your simplest plan will be to accept the magnificent offer I make

you."

"Well, be it so, since you are so pressing," he replied; "I will do

what you ask, but you will agree with me that it is very hard."

"Not at all; that is just where you make the mistake; I simply take a

guarantee against yourself, that is all."