The adventurer was not convinced; still, the bait conquered him, and,

with a sigh of regret, he offered no further resistance. Don Rufino

immediately wrote down the conditions agreed on between the two men

--a sword of Damocles, which the senator wished to hold constantly in

suspense over the head of his accomplice, and which, if produced in

a court of justice, would irretrievably destroy them both. While the

senator was writing, the bandit sought for the means to escape this

formidable compromise, and destroy the man who forced it on him when he

had received the money. We should not like to assert that Don Rufino

had not the same idea. When the senator had concluded this strange deed

of partnership, which rendered them mutually responsible, and riveted

them more closely together than a chain would have done, he read in a

loud voice what he had written.

"Now," he said, after reading, "have you any remark to offer?"

"Deuce take the remarks!" the bandit exclaimed, roughly; "Whatever I

might say, you would make no alteration, so it is better to leave it as

it is."

"That is my opinion, too--so sign; and to soften any painful effect it

may produce on you, I will give you one hundred ounces."

"Very good," he replied, with a smile; and taking the pen from Don

Rufino's hand, he boldly placed his signature at the foot of this

document, which might cost him his life. But the promise of the

hundred ounces made him forget everything; and besides, Kidd was a

bit of a fatalist, and reckoned on chance to liberate him from his

accomplice ere long.

When Kidd had signed with the greatest assurance, the senator sprinkled

gold dust over the paper, folded it, and placed it in his bosom.

"And here," he said, as he thrust his hand into a coffer, "is the

promised sum."

He piled the ounces on the table, and Kidd pocketed them with a smile

of pleasure.

"You know that I am at your orders, and ready to obey you," he said;

"and, as a beginning, I restore you the pistols, which I no longer

require."

"Thanks. Have you anything to detain you at Arispe?"

"Not the slightest."

"Then you would offer no objection to leaving the town?"

"On the contrary, I intend to do so as soon as possible."

"That is most fortunate; I will give you a letter for Señor Parfindo,

to whom I will ask you to deliver it immediately on your arrival."

"Then you want to send me to the pueblo?"

"Have you any repugnance to return there?"

"Not the slightest; still, I shall not remain there on account of that

night's business."

"Ah, yes, that is true, the soldier's death--take care."

"Oh, I shall only remain at the pueblo just long enough to perform the

duty you entrust to me, and then leave it immediately."

"That will be most prudent. But no, stay; upon reflection, I think it

will be better for you not to return to the Real de Minas. I will send

my letter by another person."

"I prefer that. Have you any other order to give me?"

"None; so you can do what you think proper: but remember that I expect

you in a week, and so act accordingly."

"I shall not forget it, caray!"

"In that case, I will not detain you. Good-bye."

"Till we meet again, señor."

The senator struck a gong, and the manservant appeared almost

immediately. Don Rufino and Kidd exchanged a side-glance. It was

evident that the criado, curious, like all servants, had listened at

the door, and tried to learn for what reason his master remained so

long shut up with a man of the adventurer's appearance; but, thanks to

the precautions Kidd had taken, even the sound of the voices, which

were purposely suppressed, did not reach him.

"Show this caballero out," the senator said.

The two men bowed for the last time, as if they were the best friends

in the world, and then separated.

"Villain!" Don Rufino exclaimed, so soon as he was alone; "if ever I

can make you pay me for all the suffering you have forced on me today,

I will not spare you."

And he passionately dashed down a splendid vase, which was unluckily

within his reach.

For his part, the adventurer, while following the servant through

the apartment, indulged in reflections which were anything but rosy

coloured.

"Hang it all!" he said to himself; "The affair has been hot. I believe

that I shall act wisely in distrusting my friend: the dear señor is far

from being tender-hearted, and if he has a chance of playing me an ill

turn he will not let it slip. I did act wrong to sign that accursed

paper; but, after all, what have I to fear? He is too much in danger to

try and set a trap for me; but for all, I will be prudent, for that can

do me no harm."

When he had ended this soliloquy he found himself under the zaguán,

where the manservant took leave of him with a respectful bow. The

adventurer pulled his wide hat brim over his eyes, and departed. In

returning to the rancho he employed the same precautions he had used

in going to the senator's house, for he was not at all anxious to be

recognised and arrested by the Alguaciles; for, as we know, the streets

of the town, for certain reasons, were not at all healthy for him.

Kidd found the ranchero standing in his doorway, with straddled legs,

attentively surveying the approaches to his house.

"Eh!" the host said, with a bow, "Back already?"

"As you see, compadre; but let me have my breakfast at once, for I have

a deal to do."

"Are you going to leave us already?"

"I do not know; come, pray make haste."

The ranchero served him without further questioning. The adventurer

made a hearty meal, paid liberally to appease his host's ill temper,

saddled his horse, and set out, without saying whether he should return

or not. A quarter of an hour later he was in the open country, and

inhaling with infinite pleasure the fresh, fragrant breeze that reached

him from the desert.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

THE HACIENDA DEL TORO.

We will now leap over an interval of a fortnight, and return to the

Hacienda del Toro; but before resuming our story we will cursorily

describe the events that occurred during this fortnight, in order to

make the reader thoroughly understand by what a strange concourse of

events accident brought all our characters face to face, and produced a

collision among them, from which an unforeseen _dénouement_ issued.

Doña Marianna, persuaded by Doña Esperanza, or, perhaps, unconsciously

attracted by the secret longings of her heart, had consented to remain

a couple of days with her. These days were occupied with pleasant

conversation, in which the maiden at length disclosed the secret which

she imagined to be buried in the remotest nook of her heart. Doña

Esperanza smiled with delight at this simple revelation of a love which

she already suspected, and which everything led her to encourage.

Stronghand, for his part, had yielded to the magical fascination the

maiden exercised over him. Feeling himself beloved, his restraint and

coldness melted away to make room for an honest admiration. Carried

away by the feelings that agitated him, he displayed all the true

prudence and goodness contained in his character, which was, perhaps,

rather savage, but it was that loyal and powerful savageness which

pleases women, by creating in them a secret desire to conquer these

rebellious natures, and dominate them by their delicious seductions.

Women, as a general rule, owing to their very weakness, have always

liked to subdue energetic men, and those who are reputed indomitable;

for a woman is proud to be protected, and blushes when she is compelled

to defend the man whose name she bears. Contempt kills love. A woman

will never love a man except when she has the right to be proud of him,

and can say to him, "Spare foes too weak for you, and unworthy of your

anger."

During the two days the young couple did not once utter the word love,

and yet they clearly explained it and no longer entertained a doubt as

to their mutual attachment.

Still it was time to think about returning to the hacienda. It was

settled that Doña Marianna should inform her father about what she had

learned from Doña Esperanza, that she should not positively refuse Don

Rufino's hand, and quietly await events.

"Take care," the maiden said, as she held out her hand to the hunter;

"my only hope is in you: if you fail in your plans I shall be left

alone defenceless, and death alone will remain to me, for I shall not

survive the loss of all my hopes."

"Trust to me, Doña Marianna; I have staked my happiness and my life on

the terrible game I am preparing to play, and I feel convinced that I

shall win it."

"I will pray to Heaven for both you and myself with such fervour, that

I feel confident my prayers will be granted."

These words, with which the young people parted, were equivalent to a

mutual engagement. Doña Esperanza tenderly embraced the maiden.

"Remember the legend," she said to her, and Doña Marianna replied with

a smile.

The tigrero held the horses by the bridle. Stronghand and ten hunters

prepared to follow the travellers at a distance, in order to help them,

should it be necessary. The journey was performed in silence. Doña

Marianna was too much engaged in restoring some degree of order to her

thoughts, which were upset by what had happened during the two days she

spent among the hunters, to dream of saying a word to her companion;

while he, for his part, confounded by the way in which he had been

treated in camp, tried to explain the luxury and comfort which he had

never before witnessed in the desert, and which plunged him into a

state of amazement from which he could not recover.

As Doña Marianna had expressed a wish to reach their journey's end as

quickly as possible, Mariano took a different road from that which he

had previously followed, and which ran to El Toro without passing by

the rancho.

At about 3 p.m. they came in sight of the rock, and began scaling the

path, and then noticed the hunters, commanded by Stronghand, drawn up

in good order on the skirt of the forest. When the young lady reached

the first gate of the hacienda, the sound of a shot reached her ear,

and a white puff of smoke floating over the horsemen made her guess who

it was that had fired it. Doña Marianna waved her handkerchief in the

air. A second shot was fired, as if to show her that the signal was

seen, and then the hunters turned round and disappeared in the forest.

Doña Marianna entered the hacienda, and the first person she met was

Paredes.

"_¡Válgame dios!_ niña," the worthy majordomo exclaimed; "Where have

you come from? The Marquis has been excessively anxious about you."

"Does not my father know that I have been to pay a visit to my nurse?"

"Your brother told him so, niña; but as your absence was so prolonged,

the Marquis was afraid that some accident had happened to you."

"You see that it was not so, my good Paredes; so set your mind at rest,

and go and re-assure my father, to whom I shall be delighted to pay my

respects."

"Don Hernando will be pleased at your return, niña; he is at this

moment engaged with Don Ruiz in inspecting the walls on the side of the

huerta, in order to make certain that they are in a sound condition for

we fear more and more an attack from the Indians."

"In that case do not disturb my father, and I will go and rest in the

drawing room, for I am exhausted with fatigue; and when my father has

completed his inspection, you will inform him of my return. It is

unnecessary to importune him now."

"Importune him!" exclaimed the honest majordomo, "Excuse me, señorita,

if I am not of your opinion on that head. _¡Viva dios!_ the Marquis

would not forgive me if I did not immediately inform him of your

return."

"In that case, act as you think proper, my worthy Paredes."

The majordomo, who had probably only been waiting for this permission,

ran off.

"My dear Mariano," the young lady then said, addressing her foster

brother, "it is not necessary to tell what we have been doing during

our absence. Everybody must suppose that I have not quitted my nurse's

rancho; you understand, and I count on your discretion. When the time

arrives, I intend myself to inform my father of all that has occurred."

"Enough, niña; you know that your wishes are orders for me. I will not

say a word--besides, it is no business of mine."

"Very well, Mariano; now receive my sincere thanks for the services you

have rendered me."

"You know that I am devoted to you, niña; I have merely done my duty,

and you have no occasion to thank me for that."

The young lady offered him her hand with a smile, and entered her

apartments. The tigrero, when left alone, took the bridles of the two

horses, and led them to the corral, through the crowd of rancheros,

who, by the Marquis's orders, had sought refuge in the hacienda, and

had erected their jacales in all the courtyards. Doña Marianna was not

sorry to be alone for a few minutes, in order to have time to prepare

the conversation she intended to have with her father and brother,

whose difficulties she did not at all conceal from herself.

The hacienda was very large, and hence, in spite of all his diligence,

it was not till he had spent half an hour in sterile search, that the

majordomo succeeded in finding his master. Don Hernando heard, with

a lively feeling of joy, of his daughter's return, and immediately

gave up his inspection in order to hurry to her. The more heavily

misfortune pressed upon the Marquis, the greater became the affection

he entertained for his children; he felt a necessity for resting on

them, and drawing more closely the family ties. When he entered, with

Don Ruiz, the room in which Doña Marianna was awaiting him, he opened

his arms and embraced her tenderly.

"Naughty girl!" he exclaimed; "What mortal anxiety you have caused me!

Why did you remain so long absent in these troublous times?"

"Forgive me, my dear father," the girl answered, as she returned his

caresses; "I incurred no danger."

"Heaven be praised! But why did you stay away from us for three days."

The young lady blushed.

"Father," she answered, as she lavished on her parent those tender

blandishments of which girls so thoroughly possess the secret, "during

my entire absence I was only thinking of you."

"Alas!" the Marquis murmured, with a choking sigh, "I know your heart,

my poor child; unhappily my position is so desperate that nothing can

save me."

"Perhaps you may be saved, father," she said, with a toss of her head.

"Do not attempt to lead me astray by false hopes, which, in the end,

would render our frightful situation even more cruel than it is."

"I do not wish to do so, father," she said, earnestly, "but I bring you

a certainty."

"A certainty, child! That is a very serious word in the mouth of a

girl. Where do you suppose it possible to find the means to conjure ill

fortune?"

"Not very far off, father; at this very place, if you like."

Don Hernando made no reply, but let his head drop on his chest

mournfully.

"Listen to Marianna, father," Don Ruiz then said; "she is the angel of

our home. I believe in her, for I am certain that she would not make a

jest of our misfortunes."

"Thanks, Ruiz. Oh, you are right; I would sooner die than dream of

increasing my father's grief."

"I know it, child," the Marquis answered, with sad impatience; "but you

are young, inexperienced, and doubtless accept the wishes of your heart

as certainties."

"Why not listen to what my sister has to say, father?" Don Ruiz said.

"If she is deceiving herself--if what she wishes to tell us does not

produce on you the effect she expects from it, at any rate she will

have given an undeniable proof of the lively interest she takes in

your affairs; and were it only for that reason, both you and I owe her

thanks."

"Of what good is it, children?"

"Good heavens, father! In our fearful situation we should neglect

nothing. Who knows? Very frequently the weakest persons bring the

greatest help. Listen to my sister first, and then you will judge

whether her remarks deserve to be taken into consideration."

"As you press it, Ruiz, I will hear her."

"I do not press, father--I entreat. Come, speak, little sister; speak

without fear, for we shall listen--at least I shall--with the liveliest

interest."

Doña Marianna smiled sweetly, threw her arms round her father's neck,

and laid her head on his shoulder with a charming gesture.

"How I love you, my dear father!" she said; "How I should like to see

you happy! I have nothing to tell you, for you will not believe me; and

what I might have to say is so strange and improbable, that you would

not put faith in it."

"You see, child, that I was right."

"Wait a moment, father," she continued; "if I have nothing to tell you,

I have a favour to ask."

"A favour!--yes, my dear."

"Yes, father, a favour; but what I desire is so singular--coming from

a girl--that I really do not know how to make my request, although the

thought is perfectly clear in my mind."

"Oh, oh, little maid," the Marquis said, with a smile, though he

was much affected, "what is this thing which requires such mighty

preparations? It must be very terrible for you to hesitate so in

revealing it to me."

"No, father, it is not terrible; but, I repeat, it will appear to you

wild."

"Oh, my child," he continued, as he shrugged his shoulders with an

air of resignation, "I have seen so many wild things for some time

past, that I shall not attach any importance to one now; hence you can

explain yourself fully, without fearing any blame from me."

"Listen to me, father; the favour I have to ask of you is this--and, in

the first place, you must promise to grant it to me."

"¡Caramba!" he said, good-humouredly, "you are taking your

precautions, señorita. And suppose that I refuse?"

"In that case, father, all would be at an end," she replied,

sorrowfully.

"Come, my child, re-assure yourself: I pledge you my word, which you

ask for so peremptorily. Are you satisfied now?"

"Oh, father, how kind you are! You really mean it now. You pledge your

word to grant me what I ask of you?"

"Yes, yes, little obstinate, I do pledge my word."

The girl danced with delight, as she clapped her pretty little hands,

and warmly embraced her father.

"On my word, this little girl is mad!" the Marquis said, with a smile.

"Yes, father, mad with delight; for I hope soon to prove to you that

your fortune has never been more flourishing than it now is."

"Why, her mind is wandering now."

"No, father," said Don Ruiz, who, with his eyes fixed on his sister,

was listening with sustained interest, and was attentively following

the play of her flexible face, on which the varied emotions that

agitated her were reflected; "I believe, on the contrary, that Marianna

is at this moment revolving in her mind some strange scheme, for

carrying out which she requires full and entire liberty."

"You have read the truth, Ruiz. Yes, I have a great project in my head;

but in order that it may be thoroughly successful, I must be mistress

of my actions, without control or remarks, from eight o'clock this

evening till midnight. Do you grant me this power, father?"

"I have promised it," Don Hernando replied, with a smile. "A gentleman

has only his word; as you desire, from eight o'clock till midnight you

will be sole mistress of the hacienda: no one, not even myself, will

have the right to make a remark about your conduct. Must I announce

this officially to our people?" he added, sportively.

"It is unnecessary, father: only two persons need be told."

"And who are these two privileged persons, if you please?"

"My foster brother Mariano, the tigrero, and José Paredes."

"Come, I see you know where to place your confidence. Those two men are

entirely devoted to us, and this gives me trust in the future. Go on,

my child; what must be done further?"

"These men must be provided with picks, spades, crowbars, and lanterns."

"I see you are thinking about digging."

"Possibly," she said, with a smile.

"Stories about buried treasure are thoroughly worn out in this country,

my child," he said, with a dubious shake of his head; "all those that

have been buried were dug up long ago."

"I can offer you no explanation, father. You are ignorant of my plan,

and hence cannot argue upon a matter you do not know: moreover, you

must make no remarks, and be the first to obey me," she said, with an

exquisite smile. "You ought not to give an example of rebellion to my

new subjects."

"That is perfectly true, my dear child; I am in the wrong, and offer

you an ample apology. Be good enough to go on with your instructions."

"I have only a word to add, father. You and Ruiz must also provide

yourselves with tools, for I expect you all four to work."

"Oh, oh, that is rather hard--not on me who am young," Don Ruiz

exclaimed, laughingly, "but on our father. Come, little sister, do not

expect such toil from him."

"I may have to lend a hand myself," Doña Marianna replied. "Believe

me, Don Ruiz, you should not treat this affair lightly; it is far more

serious than you suppose, and the consequence will be of incalculable

importance for my father and the honour of our name. In my turn I will

take an oath, since you refuse to believe my word."

"Not I, sister."

"Yes, Ruiz, you doubt it, although you do not like to allow it. Well, I

swear to you and my father, by all I hold dearest in the world--that is

to say, you two--that I am perfectly well aware of what I am doing, and

am certain of success."

Such enthusiasm sparkled in the girl's brilliant eyes, there was such

an expression of sincerity in her accent, that the two gentlemen at

length confessed themselves vanquished; her conviction had entered

their minds, and they were persuaded.

"What you desire shall be done, daughter," Don Hernando said; "and,

whatever the result may be, I shall feel grateful to you for the

efforts you are making."

Don Ruiz, by his father's orders, warned the majordomo and the tigrero,

who was already preparing to return to the rancho. But so soon as

the young man knew that his presence was necessary at the hacienda,

he remained without the slightest remark, and delighted at having an

opportunity to prove to his masters how greatly he was devoted to them.

Then what always happens under similar circumstances occurred: while

Doña Marianna was calmly awaiting the hour she had herself fixed for

action, the Marquis and his son, on the other hand, suffered from a

feverish curiosity, which did not allow them a moment's rest, and made

them regard the delay as interminable. At length eight o'clock struck.

"It is time!" said Doña Marianna.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

THE HUERTA.

All southern nations are fond of shade, flowers, and birds; and as the

heat of the climate compels them, so to speak, to live in the open air,

they have arranged their gardens with a degree of comfort unknown among

us. The Italians and Spaniards, whose houses, during the greater part

of the year, are only inhabitable for a few hours a day, have striven

to make their gardens veritable oases, where they can breathe the fresh

evening air without being annoyed by those myriads of mosquitoes and

gnats unknown in temperate climates, but which in tropical latitudes

are a real plague. At midday they may be seen wheeling in countless

myriads in every sunbeam. The Hispano-Americans especially have raised

the gardening art to a science, being always engaged in trying to solve

the problem of procuring fresh air during the hottest hours of the

day--that is to say, between midday and three p.m., during which time

the earth, which has been heated since dawn by the burning heat of a

torrid sun, exhales deadly effluvia, and so decomposes the air that it

is impossible to breathe it.

The Spanish language, which is so rich in expressions of every

description, has two words to signify a garden. There is the word

_jardín_, by which is meant the parterre properly so called--the garden

in which flowers are cultivated that in those countries grow in the

open air, but with us only in hothouses, where they are stunted and

decrepit; and, secondly, the _huerta_, which means the kitchen-garden,

the vineyard, and their clumps of trees, wide avenues, cascades,

streams, and lakes--in a word, all that we, very improperly in my

opinion, have agreed to call a park. The Hacienda del Toro possessed a

huerta, which the Marquises de Moguer had in turn sought to embellish.

This huerta, which in Europe would have seemed very large--for life

among us has been reduced to the conditions of a mean and shabby

comfort--was considered small in that country. It contained in all

only thirty acres--that is to say, a surface of about twelve square

miles; but this relative smallness was made up for by an admirable

disposition of the ground, and an extent of shade, which had made a

great reputation for the Huerta del Toro throughout Sonora.

At eight o'clock precisely the curfew was rung, as was the custom

at the hacienda. At the sound of the chapel bell all the peons and

vaqueros retired to their jacales in order to sleep. Paredes had placed

sentinels at night on the walls ever since an attack from the Indians

had been apprehended, and the precaution was the more necessary at

this time, as there was no moon, and it is that period of the month

which the Redskins always select to begin their invasions. When the

majordomo had assured himself that the sentries were at their posts,

he made a general inspection of the whole hacienda to have the lights

extinguished, and then proceeded, accompanied by the tigrero, to the

Blue Room, where Don Hernando and his son and daughter were assembled.

"All is in order, _mi amo_," he said; "everybody has retired to his

jacal, the hacienda gates are closed, and the sentries placed on the

walls."

"You are quite certain, Paredes, that no one is walking about the

corals or huerta?"

"No one; I made my rounds with the greatest strictness."

"Very good; now, daughter, you can give your orders, and we are ready

to obey you."

Doña Marianna bowed to her father with a smile.

"Paredes," she said, "have you procured the tools my brother ordered

you to provide?"

"Niña," he answered, "I have placed six picks, six crowbars, and six

spades in a clump of carob trees at the entrance of the large flower

garden."

"Why such a number of tools?" she asked, laughingly.

"Because, señorita, some may break; the work we have to do must be

performed quickly, and had I not taken this precaution, we might have

met with delay."

"You are right. Follow me, señora."

"And the lanterns?" Don Ruiz observed.

"We will take them with us, but not light them till we reach the

spot whither I am taking you. Although the night is dark, with your

knowledge of localities we shall be able to guide ourselves without

difficulty through the darkness. Our lights might be seen and arouse

suspicions, and that is what we must avoid most of all."

"Excellently reasoned, daughter."

Doña Marianna rose, and the four men followed her in silence. They

crossed the apartments instead of passing through the _patios_, which

were thronged with sleepers, and entered the huerta by large double

doors, from which the garden was reached by a flight of steps. On

leaving the Blue Room Doña Marianna took the precaution to blow out the

candles, so that the hacienda was plunged into complete darkness, and

all appeared asleep. The night was very dark; the sky, in which not

a single star twinkled, seemed an immense pall; the breeze whistled

hoarsely through the trees, whose branches rustled with an ill-omened

murmur. In the distance could be heard the snapping bark of the

coyotes, and at times the melancholy hoot of the owl arose in the dark,

and broke the mournful silence which brooded over nature. This night

was excellently chosen for a mysterious expedition of such a nature as

Doña Marianna was about to attempt.

After an instant--not of hesitation, for the maiden, although her heart

was beating loudly, was firm and resolute--but of reflection, Doña

Marianna rapidly descended the steps and entered the garden, closely

followed by the four men, who also experienced an internal emotion for

which they could not account. They had gone but a few yards when they

halted; they had reached the thicket in which the tools were concealed.

The majordomo and the tigrero took them on their shoulders, while the

Marquis and his son carried the lanterns. In spite of the darkness,

which was rendered even more intense by the dense shadow cast by the

old trees in the huerta, the young lady rapidly advanced, scarce making

the sand creak beneath her little feet, and following the winding walks

with as much ease as if she were traversing them in the bright sunshine.

The Marquis and his son felt their curiosity increase from moment to

moment. They saw the girl so gay, and so sure of herself, that they

involuntarily began to hope, although they found it impossible to

explain the nature of their hopes to themselves. Paredes and Mariano

were also greatly puzzled about the purpose of the expedition in which

they were taking part; but their thoughts did not travel beyond this:

they supposed that there was some work for them to do, and that was all.

The young lady still walked on, stopping at times and muttering a

few words in a low voice, as if trying to remember the instructions

she had previously received, but never hesitating, or taking one walk

for another; in a word, she did not once retrace her steps when she

had selected her course. Night, especially when it is dark, imparts

to scenery a peculiar hue, which completely changes the appearance of

the most familiar spots; it gives the smallest object a formidable

aspect; all is confounded in one mass, without graduated tints,

from which nothing stands out: a spot which is very cheerful in the

sunshine becomes gloomy and mournful when enveloped in darkness. The

huerta, which was so pretty and bright by day, assumed on this night

the gloomy and majestic proportions of a forest; the fall of a leaf,

the accidental breaking of a branch, the dull murmur of invisible

waters--things so unimportant in themselves--made these men start

involuntarily, although they were endowed with great energy, and any

real danger would not have made them blench.

But darkness possesses the fatal influence over the human organization

of lessening its faculties, and rendering it small and paltry. A man

who, in the midst of a battle, electrified by the sound of the cannon,

intoxicated by the smell of powder, and excited by the example of his

comrades, performs prodigies of valour, will tremble like a child on

finding himself alone in the shadow of night, and in the presence of an

unknown object, which causes him to apprehend a danger which frequently

only exists in his sickly imagination. Hence our friends involuntarily

underwent the formidable influence of darkness, and felt a certain

uneasiness, which they tried in vain to combat, and which they could

not succeed in entirely dispelling, in spite of all their efforts. They

walked on silent and gloomy, pressing against each other, looking

around them timidly, and in their hearts wishing to reach as speedily

as possible the end of this long walk. At length Doña Marianna halted.

"Light the lanterns," she said.

This was the first remark made since they left the Blue Room. The

lanterns were instantly lighted. Doña Marianna took one, and handed

another to her brother.

"Show me a light, Ruiz," she said to him.

The spot where they found themselves was situated at nearly the centre

of the huerta; it was a species of grass plot, on which only stubbly,

stunted grass grew. In the centre rose a sort of tumulus, formed of

several rocks piled on one another without any apparent symmetry, and

which the owners of the hacienda had always respected in consequence

of its barbarous singularity. An old tradition asserted that one of

the old kings of Cibola, on the ruins of which town the hacienda was

built, had been buried at the spot, which was called "The Tomb of the

Cacique" after the tradition, whether it were true or false. The first

Marquis de Moguer, who was a very pious man, like all the Spanish

conquistadors, had to some extent authorized this belief, by having the

mound blessed by a priest, under the pretext--a very plausible one at

that time--that the tomb of a pagan attracted demons, who would at once

retire when it was consecrated.

With the exception of the name it bore, this mound had never been held

in bad repute, and no suspicious legend was attached to it. It was

remote from the buildings of the hacienda, and surrounded on all sides

by dense and almost impenetrable clumps of trees. Persons very rarely

visited it, because, as it stood in the centre of an open patch of

grass, it offered no shelter against the sun; hence the place was only

known to the family and their oldest servants.

"Ah! Ah!" said the Marquis, "So you have brought us to the cacique's

tomb, my girl?"

"Yes, father; we can now begin operations without fear of being seen."

"I greatly fear that your hopes have led you astray."

"You promised, father, to make no remarks."

"That is true, and so I will hold my tongue."

"Very good, father," she said, with a smile; "be assured that this

exemplary docility will soon be duly rewarded."

And the young lady continued her investigations. She looked attentively

at every stone, seeming to study its position carefully, while

comparing it with a point of the compass.

"In which direction does the clump of old aloes lie?" she at length

asked.

"That I cannot tell you," said Don Ruiz.

"With your permission, I will do so," Paredes observed.

"Yes, yes," she said, eagerly.

The majordomo looked about for a moment, and then, placing himself in

a certain direction, said,--"The aloes of Cibola, as we call them, are

just facing me."

"Are you certain of it, Paredes?"

"Yes, niña, I am."

The young lady immediately placed herself by the majordomo's side,

and bending down over the stones, examined them with extreme care and

attention. At length she drew herself up with a start of joy.

"My father," she said, with emotion, "the honour of dealing the first

stroke belongs to you."

"Very good, my child; where am I to strike?"

"There!" she said, pointing to a rather large gap between two stones.

Don Hernando drove in the pick, and, pressing on it forcibly, detached

a stone, which rolled on the grass.

"Very good," said the girl. "Now stop, father, and let these young men

work; you can join them presently, should it prove necessary. Come,

Ruiz--come tocayo--come, Paredes--to work, my friends! Enlarge this

hole, and make it large enough for us to pass through."

The three men set to work ardently, excited by Doña Marianna's

words, and soon the stones, leaping from their bed of earth, began

to strew the ground around in large numbers. Not one of the three

men suspected the nature of the task he was performing, and yet

such is the attraction of a secret, that they drove in their picks

with extraordinary ardour. Ruiz alone possibly foresaw an important

discovery behind the task, but could not have explained what its nature

was. The work, in the meanwhile, progressed; the hole became with every

moment larger. The stones, which had been apparently thrown upon each

other, were not bound by any mortal, and hence, so soon as the first

was removed, the others came out with extreme facility. Now and then

the labourers stopped to draw breath; but this interruption lasted

only a short time, so anxious were they to obtain the solution of the

problem. All at once they stopped in discouragement, for an enormous

mass of rock resisted their efforts. This rock, which was about six

feet square, was exactly under the stones they had previously removed,

and as no solution of continuity could be perceived, everything led to

the supposition that this rock was really very much larger, and that

only a portion of it was laid bare.

"Why are you stopping, brother?" Doña Marianna asked.

"Because we have reached the rock, and should break our picks, without

getting any further."

"What! Reached the rock? Impossible!"

The Marquis leant over the excavation.

"It would be madness to try and get any further," he said; "it is plain

that we have reached the rock." Doña Marianna gave an angry start.

"I tell you again that it is impossible," she continued.

"Look for yourself, sister."

The young lady took a lantern and looked; then, without answering her

brother, she turned to Paredes and the tigrero.

"You," she said, "are old servants of the family, and I can order you

without any fear of being contradicted; so obey me. Remove, as rapidly

as possible, all the stones round that supposed rock, and when that is

done, I fancy I shall convince the most incredulous."

The two men resumed work; and Don Ruiz, piqued by his sister's remark,

imitated them. The Marquis with folded arms and head bowed on his

chest, was overcome by such persistency, and began to hope again. Ere

long the stones were removed, and the mass of rock stood solitary.

The young lady turned to the Marquis.

"Father," she said to him, "you dealt the first blow, and must deal the

last; help these three men in removing this block."

Without replying, the Marquis seized a pick, and placed himself

by the side of the workers. The four men dug their tools into the

friable earth which adhered to the rock; then, with a common and

gradual effort, they began raising the stone until it suddenly lost

its balance, toppled over, and fell on the ground, revealing a deep

excavation. At the sight of this, all uttered a cry of surprise.

"Burn some wood to purify the air," the young lady said.

They obeyed with that feverish activity which, in great circumstances,

seizes on apparently the slowest natures.

"Now come, father," Doña Marianna said, as she seized a lantern and

boldly entered the excavation.

The Marquis went in, and the rest followed him. After proceeding for

about one hundred yards along a species of gallery, they perceived the

body of a man, lying on a sort of clumsy dais, in a perfect state of

preservation, and rather resembling a sleeping person than a corpse.

Near the body the fleshless bones of another person were scattered on

the ground.

"Look!" said the maiden.

"Yes," the Marquis answered, "it is the body interred under the

tumulus."

"You are mistaken, father; it is the body of a miner, and the fancied

tumulus is nothing but a very rich gold mine, which has remained for

ages under the guard of this insensate body, and which it has pleased

Heaven to make known to you, in order that you may recover the fortune

which you were on the point of losing. Look around you," she said,

raising the lantern.

The Marquis uttered a cry of delight and admiration, doubt was no

longer possible. All around he saw enormous veins of gold, easy of

extraction almost without labour. The Marquis was dazzled; weaker in

joy than in suffering, he fell unconscious on the floor of this mine,

whose produce was about to restore him all that he had lost.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

THE ASSAULT ON QUITOVAR.

While these events were taking place at the Hacienda del Toro, others

of an even more important nature were being carried out at the Real

de Minas. Kidd the adventurer, had scarce left Don Rufino Contreras,

after the interesting conversations we have recorded, ere the senator

made his preparations for departure, and at once set out for the Real

de Minas, though careful to be accompanied by a respectable escort,

which protected him from the insults of marauders. At eight a.m. of the

following day the senator entered the pueblo, and his first business

was to present himself to the town commandant, Don Marcos de Niza. The

captain not only received him coldly, but with a certain amount of

constraint. This did not escape the senator's quick eye, but he was not

at all affected by it.

"My dear captain," he said, after the usual compliments, "I am

pleased at having been selected by the Presidential Government as its

delegate to the military authorities of the State of Sonora for two

reasons, apart from the honour I shall acquire by accomplishing this

confidential duty."

The captain bowed, but said nothing.

"The first of these reasons," the senator continued with his eternal

smile, "is that I make the acquaintance of an excellent caballero in

yourself; the second, that before being joined in the command with

you, and desiring to make myself as agreeable to you as I could, I

asked for the rank of lieutenant-colonel for you, a step which, between

ourselves, you have long deserved, and I was so fortunate as to obtain

it for you. Permit me to hand you the commission with my own hands."

And drawing from his pocketbook a large folded paper, he laid it in the

hand which the captain mechanically held out. The senator had justly

counted on the skilfully managed surprise. The captain, confounded

by the tardy justice done him, could not find a word to answer, but

from this moment Don Rufino's cause was gained in his mind; and unless

some unforeseen event occurred, the senator was convinced that he had

nothing now to fear from this man, whom he had cleverly managed to lay

under an obligation, without it costing him anything. The truth was,

that a few days previously the captain's nomination had reached the

Governor of Arispe from Mexico; the senator accidentally heard of it,

and offered to deliver it to the captain. As the governor had no reason

to refuse, he entrusted the nomination to the senator, and he turned it

to the good purpose we have seen.

"And now," he continued, cutting short the thanks which the new

colonel thought himself bound to offer him, "permit me to change the

conversation, my dear colonel, and speak to you about things which

interest me privately."

"I am listening to you caballero," Don Marcos answered; "and if I can

be of any service to you--"

"Oh, merely to give me some information," the senator interrupted him;

"I will explain the matter in two words. I am, as you are probably

aware, very intimate with a relative of yours, the Marquis de Moguer,

and an alliance between us is being arranged at this moment."

Don Marcos gave a deep bow.

"Now," the senator continued, "the Marquis, as you of course know,

has been seriously tried of late; in a word, between ourselves, he

is almost ruined. Several times already I have been so fortunate as

to render him important services; but, as you know, where misfortune

is pressing a family, the best intentions often can only succeed in

retarding an inevitable downfall. Being most desirous to save a man

with whom I shall be probably closely connected within a few days,

not merely by the ties of friendship, but also by the closer links

of relationship, I have bought up all his debts; in a word, I have

become his sole creditor, and that is as much as telling you that the

Marquis does not owe a farthing now. The man whom I entrusted with this

difficult negotiation will arrive immediately in this town, where I

gave him the meeting."

"He arrived some days ago," the colonel remarked.

"Indeed!" Don Rufino exclaimed, affecting surprise, "It seems in that

case that he has worked quicker than I expected. But that is a thousand

times better, as I will claim a service at your hands."

"A service!" Don Marcos exclaimed, with instinctive distrust.

"Yes," the senator continued, tranquilly; "I hardly know how to explain

it to you, for it is so difficult, however friendly you may be with

a man whose daughter you are about to marry, to say to him 'You owed

enormous sums; I have bought up your debts, here are the receipts; burn

them, for you owe nothing now;' it would be looking so much like trying

to impose conditions to act thus--in a word, to make a bargain--that

I feel a repugnance from it; and if a common friend does not consent

to come to my assistance in the matter, I confess to you that I am

completely ignorant how I shall get out of the difficulty."

"What!" the colonel exclaimed, in admiration, "Would you do that?"

"I never had any other thought," the senator replied simply.

"Oh, it is a great and generous action, caballero."

"Not at all; on the contrary, it is quite natural. Don Hernando is my

intimate friend; I am going to marry his daughter, and my line of duty

is plain. I only did what anyone else in my place would have done."

"No, no," Don Marcos said, shaking his head with an air of conviction;

"no, señor, no one would have acted as you have done, I feel certain.

Alas! Hearts like yours are rare."

"All the worse, all the worse, and I feel sorry for humanity," Don

Rufino said, as he raised his eyes piously to the ceiling.

"What is the service you expect from me, señor?"

"A very simple thing. I will give you in a few moments those unlucky

receipts, which I will ask you to be kind enough to hand to the

Marquis. You can make him understand better than I can the purity of my

intentions in this affair; and, above all, pray assure him that I have

not done it for the purpose of forcing him to give me his daughter's

hand."

The senator went away, leaving the colonel completely under the charm.

He proceeded hastily to the mesón where Don Parfindo was lodged; he

took the receipts from him, rewarded him handsomely, and did not leave

him till he saw him and his bailiff out of the pueblo; then he walked

slowly back to the colonel's house, rubbing his hands, and muttering,

with an ironical smile--

"I fancy that I shall soon have no cause to fear that worthy Señor

Kidd's denunciations. By the bye, where can he be? His absence from

Quitovar is not natural, and I must free myself from him at our next

interview."

The senator's conversation with his agent had occupied some time, and

when Don Rufino returned to the colonel's house, he found the latter

busy in making known his new rank to his officers. The colonel eagerly

took advantage of the opportunity to introduce the senator to them, and

to tell them that Don Rufino was delegated by the Government to watch

the operations of the army, and that hence they must obey him like

himself. The officers bowed respectfully to the senator, made their

bows, and retired. When the two gentlemen were alone again, the ice

was completely broken between them, and they were the best friends in

the world.

"Well," the colonel asked.

"All is settled," the senator replied, as he produced the vouchers.

"¡Caramba! You have lost no time."

"The best things are those done quickly. Take all these documents, and

make what use of them you think proper. I am delighted at having got

rid of them." While saying this, Don Rufino threw the papers on the

table with an excellent affectation of delight.

"With your leave, caballero," the colonel said, with a laugh, "I will

take these papers, since you insist on it, but I will give you a

receipt."

"Oh, no," the senator exclaimed, "that would spoil the whole business."

"Still--"

"Not a word," he interrupted him, quickly; "I do not wish to have in my

possession the shadow of a claim upon Don Hernando."

The colonel would have probably pressed the point, had not a great

noise been heard in the anteroom, and a man rushed into the colonel's

sanctum, shouting at the top of his lungs, "The Indians! The Indians!"

The colonel and the senator rose. The man was Kidd; his clothes were

torn and disordered; his face and hands were covered with blood and

dust, and all apparently proved that he had just escaped from a sharp

pursuit. A strange uproar outside the house, which soon assumed

formidable proportions, corroborated his statement.

"Is that you, Kidd?" the colonel exclaimed.

"Yes," he replied; "but lose no time, captain; here are the pagans!

They are at my heels, and I am scarce half an hour ahead of them."

Without waiting to hear anything more, the colonel dashed out of the

room.

"Where have you come from?" Don Rufino asked the bandit, so soon as he

was alone with him.

The latter gave a start of disappointment on recognising the senator,

whom he had not noticed at the first moment. This start did not escape

Don Rufino.

"How does that concern you?" the adventurer answered, roughly.

"I want to know."

Kidd made a meaning grimace.

"Every man has his own business," he said.

"Some treachery you have been preparing, of course."

"That is possible," he replied, with a knowing grin.

"Against me, perhaps."

"Who knows?"

"Will you speak?"

"What is the use of speaking, since you have guessed it?"

"Then you are still trying to deceive me?"

"I mean to take my precautions, that is all."

"Scoundrel!" the senator exclaimed, with a menacing gesture.

"Nonsense!" the other said, with a shrug of his shoulders; "I am not

afraid of you, for you would not dare kill me."

"Why not?"

"In the first place, because it would cause a row, and because I do not

think you such a friend of the captain that you would venture to take

such a liberty in his house."

"You are mistaken, villain, and you shall have a proof of it."

"Holloa!" the adventurer exclaimed, as he retired precipitately to the

door.

But, with a gesture rapid as thought, Don Rufino seized one of Don

Marcos's pistols, cocked it, and ere Kidd could effect the retreat he

was meditating, he fired, and the adventurer lay on the ground with a

bullet in his chest.

"Die, brigand!" the senator shouted, as he threw down the weapon he had

used.

"Yes," the bandit muttered, "but not unavenged. It was well played,

master; but your turn will soon arrive--"

And stiffening with a final convulsion, the ruffian expired, retaining

on his features even after death an expression of mocking defiance,

which caused the senator an involuntary tremor.

"What is the matter here?" the colonel asked, suddenly entering.

"Nothing very important," Don Rufino said, carelessly. "I was carried

away by my passion, and settled this scoundrel."

"_¡Viva Dios!_ You were right, señor; I only regret that you have

anticipated me, for I have proofs of his treachery.--Ho, there! Remove

this carrion, and throw it out," he shouted to some soldiers who

accompanied him, and had remained in the anteroom.

The soldiers obeyed, and the adventurer's body was thrown

unceremoniously into the street.

"Are the Indians really coming up?"

"The dust raised by their horses' hoofs can already be perceived. We

have not a moment to lose in preparing for defence. I suppose I can

reckon on you?"

"_¡Rayo de Dios!_! I should hope so."

"Come, then, for time presses."

Kidd had in reality prepared, with his usual Machiavelism, a new

treachery, of which, unluckily for him, he was destined to be the first

victim. The whole pueblo was in an uproar: the streets were crowded

with soldiers proceeding to their posts; with women, children, and

aged persons flying in terror; with rancheros, who arrived at a gallop

to find shelter in the town, and heightened the general alarm by the

terror depicted on their faces; cattle were dashing madly about the

streets, deserted by their herds, who were compelled to proceed to the

intrenchments; and on the distant plain the body of Indians could be

seen through the dust clouds, coming up at headlong speed.

"They are numerous," the senator whispered to the colonel.

"Too many," the latter answered; "but silence! Let us look cheerful."

There were twenty minutes of indescribable anxiety, during which the

defenders of the pueblo were enabled to examine their enemies, and form

an idea of the terrible danger that menaced them.

Unhappily, the sun was on the point of setting, and it was evident that

the Redskins had calculated their march so as to arrive exactly at

that moment, and continue the attack through the night. The colonel,

foreseeing that he might possibly be compelled to have recourse to

flight, collected a band of fifty resolute horsemen, whom he gave

orders not to leave the Plaza Major, and be ready for any eventuality.

After their first charge the Indians retired out of musket range, and

did not renew their attack. A few horsemen, better mounted than the

rest, were scattered over the plain, picking up the dead and wounded,

and capturing the straggling horses; but the colonel gave orders that

they should not be fired at--not through humanity, but in order to

spare his ammunition, of which he possessed a very small stock.

Night set in, and a deep gloom covered the earth; but the redskins

lit no fires. This circumstance alarmed the colonel; but several

hours passed, and nothing led to the possibility of an attack

being suspected. Profound silence brooded over the pueblo and the

surrounding plains, and the Indians seemed to have disappeared as if by

enchantment. The Mexicans tried in vain to distinguish any suspicious

forms in the darkness; they saw and heard nothing. This expectation of

a danger, which all felt to be imminent and terrible, had something

frightful for the besieged.

Suddenly an immense light lit up the plain; the black outlines of the

Indians rose like diabolical apparitions, galloping in all directions;

a horrible, discordant, and shrill yell echoed in the ears of the

Mexicans, and clouds of blazing arrows fell upon them from all sides

at once, while the hideous heads of the Redskins appeared on the crest

of the entrenchments. Then, in the light of a forest, kindled by the

Indians to serve them as a beacon, an obstinate hand-to-hand fight

began between the white men and redskins.

The pueblo was captured; any further resistance became not only

impossible, but insensate. Several houses were already ablaze, and in

a few minutes the Real de Minas would only be one immense furnace. The

senator and the colonel had fought bravely so long as a gleam of hope

was left them and the struggle appeared possible. At this moment they

thought of saving the few wretches who still existed, and had escaped

the frightful massacre by a miracle. Collecting around them all the men

they possessed, they dashed to the Plaza Major, where, in spite of the

fight raging round them, the squadron picked by Don Marcos had remained

motionless, and leaping on their horses, they gave the order to start.

Then the little band rushed forward like a hurricane, overthrowing and

crushing all the obstacles that stood in their way; and after losing

one-third their number, the rest succeeded in leaving the pueblo,

traversing the enemy's lines, and taking the road to the Hacienda del

Toro, without any close pursuit.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

THE VENGEANCE OF HEAVEN.

The Marquis's faint lasted but a short time, thanks to the attentions

his son and daughter paid him. He had scarce regained his senses ere he

drew Doña Marianna gently to him.

"My dear child," he muttered, as he pressed her to his heart, "you are

our saviour."

The girl, delighted with this praise, freed herself, with a blush, from

her father's embrace.

"Then," she said, with a pretty toss of her head, "you now allow, I

think, father, that I have really kept my word."

"Oh, my child," he said, with much emotion, as he looked around him in

delight, "there are here fifty fortunes equal to the one I have lost."

The girl clapped her hands in delight.

"Ah, how happy I am! I felt certain that she would not deceive me."

This remark, which escaped from the fullness of Doña Marianna's heart,

struck Don Hernando.

"To whom are you alluding, daughter? And who is this person who

inspires you with such confidence?"

"The one who revealed the existence of this treasure to me, father,"

she answered.

The Marquis did not press her.

"Mariano," he said to the tigrero, "you will pass the night here; allow

no one to approach this excavation, for it would be imprudent to let

strangers know of the existence of such a treasure before we have time

to take certain precautions indispensable for its safety."

"You can go without fear, _mi amo_," the brave lad answered; "no one

shall approach the mine while I am alive."

"Besides," Don Hernando continued, "your watch will cease at sunrise."

"As long as you please, _mi amo_."

And the tigrero, collecting the tools and lanterns, installed himself

in the excavation itself, a few yards from the body still lying on the

dais.

The other four slowly returned to the hacienda, conversing about this

marvellous discovery, which, at the moment when all seemed desperate,

saved the family. In fact, the gold veins were so rich, that it would

be possible to detach in a single day enough nearly to cover all the

debts contracted by the Marquis. They re-entered the blue room; and

though it was very late, not one of them felt the slightest inclination

to sleep; on the contrary, they wanted still to converse about the mine.

"Well," the Marquis said, "you did not dream that so rich a mine

existed on the estate; you allowed as much just now."

"In truth, father, someone was kind enough to give me the information

by which I found it."

"But who can this person be, who is better acquainted than myself

with a property which has been in the hands of the family more than

three hundred years, and yet nobody suspected that it contained this

treasure?"

"The probability is that the secret was well kept, father."

"Of course; but by whom?"

"By the old owners of the soil, of course."

"Nonsense! You are jesting, daughter. Those poor Indians disappeared

long ago from the face of the earth."

"I am not of that opinion, father," Don Ruiz observed.

"The more so," Paredes struck in, "because I know for a fact that the

tribe to which you allude still exists; it is one of the most powerful

in the great confederation of the Papazos."

"And you know, father, with what religious exactitude the Indians

preserve secrets confided to their conscience."

"That is true; but in that case some man must have spoken."

"Or some woman," Doña Marianna said, smilingly.

"Well, be it so--a woman," the Marquis continued; "that is already a

valuable piece of news. I know that you have obtained your information

about the mine from a woman, my child."

"Unhappily, father, I am prohibited from saying any more."

"Humph! Prohibited!"

"Yes, father. However, re-assure yourself: this mine is really

yours--your lawful property. Its owner has freely surrendered it in

your favour."

Don Hernando frowned with an air of dissatisfaction.

"Charity!" he muttered.

"Oh, no, but a gift you can accept, father, I swear to you. Besides,

the person to whom you are indebted for it promised me to make herself

known to you ere long."

On the next morning, by the orders of the Marquis, the majordomo

selected ten confidential rancheros and peons from those who had sought

shelter at the hacienda, and the work commenced at once. The mine had

been abandoned exactly in the state in which it was when the body of

the miner was found by the Indians; hence the mere sweepings formed a

considerable amount, and at the expiration of four or five days the

sum collected was sufficient, not only to pay off all the debts, but

also to leave at the disposal of the Marquis a sum thrice as large as

he owed. With the exception of the legitimate anxiety caused by the

apprehension of an Indian attack, joy had returned to the hacienda;

the Marquis had begun to smile again, and seemed younger--so great is

the privilege of wealth to alter men. The first thought that occurred

to the Marquis was to settle with his creditors, and determine his

position.

"My dear child," he said one evening to Doña Marianna, at the moment

when she was about to retire for the night, "you have not yet given

me an answer on the subject of Don Rufino Contrera's request for

your hand; but the week has long since passed. Tomorrow, Paredes is

going to start to place in his hands certain letters of importance

for the settlement of my affairs, and I wish to take advantage of the

opportunity. What answer shall I give Don Rufino?"

The young lady blushed; but at length, subduing the trouble that

agitated her, she said, with a slight tremour in her voice,--

"Father, I am doubtless highly honoured by this Caballero's demand; but

do you not think as I do, that the moment is badly chosen for such a

thing, menaced as we incessantly are by terrible dangers?"

"Very good, daughter; I do not at all wish to force your inclinations.

I will answer the senator in that sense; but if he come himself to seek

his answer, what shall we do?"

"It will be time enough to think of it then," she replied, with a laugh.

"Well, well, that is true, and I was wrong to dwell on the matter so.

Good night, my child, and sleep soundly. As for me, I shall probably

spend the whole night in my study with your brother, engaged with my

accounts."

The young lady withdrew.

"Señor Marquis," said Paredes, suddenly opening the door, "excuse my

disturbing you so late; but Mariano, the tigrero, has just arrived at

the hacienda with his whole family; he is the bearer of such strange

and terrible news, that you will perhaps sooner hear it from his lips

than from mine."

"What does he say?" Don Ruiz asked, who entered the room at this moment.

"He says that the Indians have risen, that they have surprised

the Mineral of Quitovar, fired the pueblo, and massacred all the

inhabitants."

"Oh, that is frightful!" the Marquis exclaimed.

"Our poor cousin!" the young man added.

"That is true; our unhappy cousin commanded at the pueblo. What a

horrible disaster! Send the tigrero in to me, Paredes; go and fetch him

at once."

Mariano was shown in, and related in their fullest details, though with

some exaggeration, the events recorded in our last chapter, which threw

his hearers into a profound stupor. Among all the incomprehensible

things which daily occur, there is one which will never be explained;

it is the rapidity with which all news spreads even for considerable

distances. Thus, the capture of Quitovar was unhappily only too true,

and the details furnished by Mariano were substantially correct; but

how could the tigrero have become acquainted with a fact that had

happened scarce three hours previously, and at more than ten leagues

from the hacienda? He could not have explained this himself; he had

heard it from somebody, but could not remember whom.

This terrible news caused the Marquis to reflect deeply. Now that

the roads were probably infested with marauders, and communication

intercepted by the Indians, he could not think of sending Paredes

to Hermosillo, and the journey had become literally impossible. He

must busy himself without delay in organizing the defence of the

hacienda, in order vigorously to repulse the attack which would, in

all probability, not be long delayed. In spite of the advanced hour,

all were at work in an instant at the Toro; the walls were lined with

defenders, and reserves established in all parts of the hacienda.

The whole night was spent in preparations. About two hours after

sunrise, at the moment when the Marquis, wearied by a long watch, was

preparing to take a little repose, the sentries signalled the approach

of a body of horsemen, coming at full gallop towards the hacienda.

The Marquis went up on the walls, took a telescope, and had a look at

them. After a short examination, he perceived that these horsemen were

Mexicans, although, owing to the distance, he could not distinguish

whether they were soldiers or rancheros. Still, he had all preparations

made to give them a hearty reception, if they evinced a desire to

halt at the hacienda, as the direction they were following seemed to

indicate.

Some time elapsed ere these horsemen, who were climbing the hill,

reached the hacienda gates. Then all doubts were removed: they were

soldiers, and a few paces ahead of the troop rode Don Rufino Contreras

and Colonel Don Marcos de Niza. But both leaders and soldiers were in

such disorder, so blackened with gunpowder, so covered with dust and

blood, that it was plain they had come from a recent fight, from which

they had escaped as fugitives. Men and horses were utterly exhausted,

not alone by the extraordinary fatigue they had undergone, but also by

the gigantic struggle they had sustained ere they dreamed of flight.

It was unnecessary to ask them any questions. The Marquis ordered

refreshments to be served them, and beds got ready.

Don Marcos de Niza and the senator had hardly the strength to say a few

words explanatory of the wretched condition in which they presented

themselves, and yielding to fatigue and want of sleep, they fell down

in a state of complete insensibility, from which no attempt was made

to rouse them, but they were both carried to bed. The Marquis then

withdrew to his room, leaving his son to watch over the safety of the

hacienda in his stead, for in all probability it would be speedily

invested by the Redskins.

At three in the afternoon a fresh band of horsemen was signalled in

the plain. This considerable party was composed entirely of hunters

and wood rangers. Don Ruiz gave orders to let them advance, for the

arrival of these hunters, nearly one hundred in number, was a piece

of good fortune for the hacienda, as the number of its defenders was

augmented by so many. Still, when Don Ruiz saw them enter the track,

he noticed such a regularity in their movements, that a doubt crossed

his mind like a flash of lightning, and a thought of treachery rose to

his brain. Hence he rushed to the outer gate of the hacienda to give

Paredes orders not to open; but the majordomo checked him at the first

word.

"You cannot have looked, niño," he said, "when you order such a thing."

"On the contrary, I do so because I have looked," he replied.

"Then you must have seen badly," the majordomo said; "otherwise you

would have perceived that the horseman at their head is one of your

most devoted friends."

"Whom do you mean?"

"Who else than Stronghand?"

"Is Stronghand coming with those horsemen?"

"He is at the head of the column, niño."

"Oh, in that case let them enter."

"Ah, I felt certain of it."

The hunters had no necessity even of parleying; they found the hacienda

gates wide open, and rode straight in without drawing rein. Don Ruiz

recognised Stronghand, who, on his side, rode up to him and held out

his hand.

"Grant me one favour, Don Ruiz," he said.

"Speak," the young man answered.

"Two words of conversation in your sister's presence; but wait a

moment, another person must accompany me, for reasons you will soon

appreciate; this person desires temporarily to maintain the most

inviolable incognito. Do you consent?"

Don Ruiz hesitated.

"What do you fear?" the hunter continued; "Do you not put faith in me?

Do you believe me capable of abusing your confidence?"

"No; I do not wish even to suppose it, I pledge you my word."

"And I mine, Don Ruiz."

"Act as you think proper."

The hunter gave a signal, and a horseman dismounted and came up to

them. A long cloak entirely covered him, and the broad brim of his hat

was pulled down over his eyes. He bowed silently to the young man, who,

though greatly perplexed by this mystery, made no remark; and after

requesting the majordomo to take care of the newcomers, he led his

guests to the room in which Doña Marianna was seated, engaged with her

tambour-work. The young lady, on hearing the door open, mechanically

raised her eyes.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, joyfully, "Stronghand!"

"Myself, señorita," the young man replied, with a respectful bow; "I

have come to ask the fulfilment of your promise."

"I shall keep it, no matter what may happen."

"Thanks, señorita."

"Ruiz," she said to her brother, eagerly; "until further orders, my

father must not know of the presence of these caballeros here."

"What you ask of me is very difficult, sister; think of the immense

responsibility I assume in acting thus."

"I know it, Ruiz; but it must be, my dear brother, for my happiness is

at stake," she continued, clasping her hands imploringly; "and besides,

what have you to fear? Do you not know this hunter?"

"Yes, I know him; I am even under great obligations to him; but his

companion?"

"I answer for him, Ruiz."

"You know, then, who he is?"

"No matter what I know, brother; I only beg you to grant what I ask."

"Well, for your sake I will be silent."

"Oh! Thanks, thanks, brother!"

At this moment a sound of footsteps was heard in the adjoining room.

"What is to be done?" the maiden murmured.

Stronghand laid his finger on his lips, and, leading away his

companion--who, through the thick cloak he wore, resembled a phantom

rather than a man--disappeared behind a curtain. At the same instant

a door opened, and two persons entered. They were Don Marcos and the

senator. They had scarce exchanged the first compliments with Don Ruiz

and Doña Marianna, when the Marquis entered the room.

"You are up at last, I am happy to see," he said, cheerfully. "_¡Viva

Dios!_ You were in a most deplorable state on your arrival; I am glad

to see you so fully recovered."

"A thousand thanks, cousin, for your hospitality, of which we stood in

great need."

"No more about that; I am the more pleased at the chance which has

brought us together, Don Rufino, because I intended to write to you

immediately."

"My dear sir," the senator said, with a bow.

"Are you not expecting an answer from me?"

"It is so, but I did not dare to hope."

The Marquis cut him short.

"Let us come to the most important point first," he continued, with

a smile. "Don Rufino, you have behaved to me like a real friend. By

a miracle--for I can only attribute to a miracle the good fortune

that has befallen me--I am in a position to arrange my affairs,

and discharge my debt to you, although, be assured, I shall never

forget the services you have rendered me, and the obligations I have

contracted toward you."

The senator was so surprised, that he turned pale, and took a

side-glance at the colonel.

"Obligations far greater than you suppose," the latter said, warmly.

"What do you mean, cousin?" the Marquis asked, in surprise.

"I mean that Don Rufino, unaware of the happy change in your fortunes,

and wishing to save you from the frightful position in which you were,

had bought up all your liabilities, and so soon as he had all the

vouchers in his possession, he hurried with them to me, and implored me

to destroy them. Here they are, cousin," he added, as he drew a bundle

of papers from his pocket.

The various actors in this singular scene were affected by strange

feelings. Don Ruiz and his sister exchanged a look of despair, for

they understood that the Marquis would now be unable to refuse his

consent to his daughter's marriage.

"Oh!" the Marquis exclaimed, "I cannot accept such an act of

generosity."

"From a stranger, certainly not," Don Rufino remarked, in an

insinuating voice; "but I flattered myself that I was not such to you,

my dear sir."

There was a silence.

"What is going on at this moment is so strange; I feel taken so

unawares," the Marquis presently continued; "my thoughts are so

confused, that I must beg you, Don Rufino, to defer till tomorrow the

remainder of this conversation. By that time I shall have been able to

regain my coolness, and then, believe me, I will answer you in the way

that I ought to do."

"My dear sir, I understand the delicacy of your remarks, and will wait

as long as you think proper," the senator replied, with a bow, and an

impassioned glance at Doña Marianna, who was pale and trembling.

"Yes," said the colonel, "let us put off serious matters till tomorrow;

the shock we have suffered has been too rough for us to be fit for any

discussion just at present."

"What has happened to you? The pagans have not seized the Mineral de

Quitovar? Or at least I hope not."

"Yes, they have, cousin; the pueblo has been captured by the Redskins,

sacked, and burnt. We had great difficulty in making our escape, and

passed through extraordinary dangers ere we were so lucky as to reach

your hacienda."

"That is disastrous news, cousin; I had been told of it, but was

unwilling to believe it."

"It is unhappily but too true."

"Well, thank Heaven, cousin, you are in safety here. As for you, Don

Rufino, I am happy that you escaped from the horrible massacre; you are

not a soldier, you are--"

"An assassin!" a sepulchral voice suddenly exclaimed, and a hand was

laid heavily on the senator's shoulder.

The company turned with horror. Stronghand's companion had let fall the

hat and cloak that disguised him, and was standing, stern and menacing,

behind the senator.

"Oh!" the latter exclaimed, as he recoiled with terror, "Rodolfo! Don

Rodolfo!"

"Brother, do I see you again after so many years?" the Marquis said,

joyfully, as he advanced towards the stranger.

"The great sachem," Doña Marianna murmured.

The sachem thrust back with a gesture of sovereign contempt the

startled senator, and walked into the centre of the group.

"Yes, it is I, brother; I, the proscript, the disinherited, who enter

the house of my father after an absence of twenty years, in order to

save the last representative of my family."

"Oh, brother! Brother!" the Marquis exclaimed, sorrowfully.

"Recover yourself, Hernando! I entertain no feelings of hatred or

rancour for you; on the contrary, I have always loved you, and though

I was far away from you I have never lost you out of sight. Come to

my arms, brother; let us forget the past, only to think of the joy of

being reunited."

The Marquis threw himself into his brother's arms; Don Ruiz and Doña

Marianna imitated him, and for some minutes there was an uninterrupted

interchange of embraces among the members of this family, who had so

long been separated.

"It was through me that you received the sum which Paredes was to

receive at Hermosillo", Don Rodolfo continued; "to me you also owe

the discovery of the gold mine which has saved you. But I have not

come here solely to embrace you and yours, brother; I have come to

punish a villain! This man," he said, pointing to the senator, who was

trembling with rage and terror--"this man was my valet; in order to

rob me, he attempted to assassinate me cowardly, treacherously, and

behind my back. Such is the man whose dark machinations had succeeded

in deceiving you, and to whom you were on the point of giving your

daughter: let him contradict me if he dare!"

"Oh!" the senator muttered, with a furious gesture.

"Villain!" the Marquis exclaimed; "Help! Help! seize the monster!"

Several servants rushed into the room, but before they could reach

Don Rufino the latter had bounded with a tiger leap upon Don Rodolfo,

and buried a dagger in his chest. The sachem fell back with a cry of

pain into the arms of his brother and his son. After the crime was

committed, the assassin threw down his weapon, and said to the startled

spectators, with an air of defiance and satisfied hatred,--

"Now you can do whatever you like to me, for I am avenged."

CHAPTER XL.

FUNERAL OF A SACHEM.

Two days had elapsed since the atrocious attack made by Don Rufino on

Don Rodolfo de Moguer. The Papazos had captured the hacienda without a

blow, as the gates were opened to them; for the stupor and terror of

the Mexicans at this horrible crime were so great, that they forgot all

precautions. But we must do the Redskins the justice of stating that,

contrary to their habits, they committed no excesses in the hacienda,

either by virtue of superior orders, or in consequence of the sorrow

which the wound of their great sachem caused them. Doña Esperanza had

arrived with Padre Serapio at the same time as the Indian warriors, and

she and Doña Marianna did not leave the wounded man's bed.

Don Hernando was inconsolable, and the colonel could not forgive

himself for having supposed for a moment that the senator was an honest

man. The whole hacienda was plunged into sorrow, and Don Rodolfo

alone watched death approach with a calm brow. Fray Serapio dressed

his wound: his night was tolerably quiet, and in the morning the monk

entered the wounded man's room. At a sign from Don Rodolfo his wife and

niece, who had watched the whole night through by his bedside, withdrew.

"Now, padre," he said, when they left the room, "it is our turn."

And he helped him to remove the bandages. The monk frowned.

"I am condemned, am I not?" said Don Rodolfo, who attentively followed

in the monk's face the feelings that agitated him.

"God can perform a miracle," the Franciscan stammered, in a faint voice.

The sachem smiled softly.

"I understand you," he replied; "answer me, therefore, frankly and

sincerely. How many hours have I still to live?"

"What good is that, my dear, good master?" the monk murmured.

"Padre Serapio," the chief interrupted him, in a firm voice, "I want to

know, in order that I may settle my affairs on earth, before I appear

in the presence of God."

"Do you insist on my telling you the truth?"

"Pray do so--the entire truth."

The poor man stifled a sigh, and answered, in a voice broken by

emotion--"Unless a miracle occur, you will give back your soul to your

Creator at sunset."

"I thank you, my friend," the sachem said, his austere face not

displaying the slightest trace of emotion. "Ask my brother to come

here, for I have to talk with him. Keep back my wife and niece until I

ask for them. Go, father; I will see you again before I die."

The worthy monk withdrew, choked with sobs. The interview of the two

brothers was long, for Don Hernando had many faults to ask pardon for

at the hands of him whose place he had taken. But Don Rodolfo, far from

reproaching him, tried on the contrary to console him, by talking to

him in a cheerful voice, and reminding him of the happy days of their

childhood. He also thanked his brother warmly for having freed him from

the heavy burden of supporting the family honour, and allowing him to

live in accordance with his tastes and humour. Many other things were

talked of, after which the Marquis retired, with pale brow and eyes

swollen with tears, which he tried in vain to repress, that he might

not sadden the last moments of the man whose great soul was revealed

to him at this supreme moment--of the brother whom he had so cruelly

misunderstood, and who had even sacrificed his life to insure his

brother's happiness.

Doña Marianna and Doña Esperanza then returned to the dying man's room,

followed by Padre Serapio, and a few moments after the Marquis came

back, accompanied by Stronghand. The young man, in spite of his Indian

education and affected stoicism, knelt down sobbing by his father's

side. For some moments father and son talked together in a low voice;

no one save God knew what words were uttered by these two men during

the solemn interview.

"Come here, niece," Don Rodolfo at length said, addressing Doña

Marianna.

The maiden knelt down sobbing by the hunter's side. The aged man looked

for a moment tenderly at their two young faces, pale with sorrow, which

were piously leaning over him; then making an effort to sit up, and

supported on one side by his brother, on the other by Doña Esperanza,

he said, in a voice that trembled with emotion--"Niece, answer me as

you would answer God; for the dying, you know, no longer belong to this

world. Do you love my son?"

"Yes, uncle," the maiden answered through her tears--"yes, I love him."

"And you, Diego, my son, do you love your cousin?"

"Father, I love her," the young man answered, in a voice crushed by

emotion.

Don Rodolfo turned to his brother, who understood his glance.

"Bless our children, brother," he said, "according to the wish you

expressed to me; Padre Serapio will unite them in your presence."

The wounded man stretched out his trembling hands over the two young

people.

"Children," he said, in a powerful voice, though with an accent of

ineffable tenderness, "I bless you; be happy."

And, crushed by the efforts he had been forced to make, he fell back

in a half-fainting state on his bed. When he regained consciousness,

through the attention of Don Esperanza and his niece, he perceived

an altar by the side of his bed. On his expressing a desire that the

ceremony should take place at once, Padre Serapio, assisted by José

Paredes, who was weeping bitterly, read the marriage mass. After the

nuptial benediction, Don Rodolfo received the last sacraments, amid the

tears and sobs of all present.

"And, now, my friends," he said, "that I have accomplished my duties

as a Christian and Spanish gentleman, it is time for me to perform my

duties as an Indian chief; so allow the Papazo warriors to enter."

The doors opened, and the warriors entered: they were sad, gloomy,

and thoughtful. The sachem had sat up to receive them, supported by

his son Stronghand. The warriors silently surrounded the bed on which

their venerated chief lay, among them being Sparrowhawk and Peccary.

The sachem looked calmly round the circle, and then spoke in a calm and

deeply accentuated voice:--

"The Master of Life has suddenly recalled me to Him. I did not fall

in action, but beneath the dagger of a cowardly assassin. I regret

leaving my nation before I had completed the task which I undertook

for their happiness. What I had not time to do, another will doubtless

terminate. My brothers must continue the war they have so happily

and gloriously commenced; and though I am leaving them, my mind will

remain among them. The warriors of my nation must never forget that

the Master of Life created them free, and that they must live and die

free. The Papazos are brave men, invincible warriors, and slavery is

not made for them. On the point of appearing before the Master of Life,

I implore the chiefs not to forget that the white persons who surround

me form part of my family. If my brothers retain after my death any

recollection of the good which I have continually sought to do them,

they will be kind to the palefaces whom I love. I have only one more

word to add: I desire to give back my soul to the Master of Life

beneath the buffalo hide cabin of the warriors of my nation, and in

the midst of my nation. I desire also that all the rites customary at

the death of the chiefs should be performed for me."

A tremor of joy ran along the ranks of the redskin warriors on hearing

the last words; for they had feared in their hearts that the sachem

would wish to be interred after the fashion of the white men. The

Peccary then replied, in the name of all--

"My father's wishes are orders for his children; never, so long as

the powerful confederation of the Papazos exists, shall an insult be

offered to the palefaces whom he loves. Our father can die in peace;

all his wishes will be religiously carried out by his children."

A flash of joy sparkled in the sachem's eye at this promise, which he

knew would be strictly kept. The Peccary continued--

"The Papazos chiefs are sad; their hearts are swollen by the thought of

losing their father: they fear lest his death may be the cause of great

disorder in their confederation, and injure the success of the war

which had scarce begun."

"I belong to my sons till the last moment of my existence; what can I

do for them?"

"My father can do a great deal," the chief answered.

"My ears are open; I am waiting for my son to explain himself."

"The chiefs," continued Peccary, "and the great braves of the

confederation, assembled at sunrise round the council fire: they

desire, in order that no discord may spring up among them, that our

father, the great sachem, should himself appoint his successor; for

they feel persuaded that our father's choice will fall on a brave and

wise chief, worthy to command men."

The sachem reflected for a moment.

"Be it so," he said at length; "the determination of the sachems is

wise, and I approve of it. Sparrowhawk will command in my place when

I am called away by the Great Spirit; no one is more worthy to be the

first sachem of the nation."

Sparrowhawk quitted the ranks, stepped forward, and bowed respectfully

to the dying man.

"I thank my father," he said, "for the signal honour he has done me;

but I am very young to command chiefs and renowned warriors, and I fear

that I shall break down in the heavy task imposed on me. My father

leaves a son; Stronghand is one of the great braves of our nation, and

his wisdom is renowned."

"My son is a paleface; he does not know the wants of the Papazos so

well as Sparrowhawk. Sparrowhawk will command."

"I obey my father since he insists; but Stronghand will ever be one of

the great chiefs of my nation."

A flattering murmur greeted these clever remarks.

"I thank my son Sparrowhawk in the name of Stronghand. Modesty becomes

a chief so celebrated as is my son," the sachem continued; "the Great

Spirit will inspire him, and he will do great things. I have spoken. Do

the chiefs approve my choice?"

"We could not have chosen better," Peccary answered. "We sincerely

thank our father for having anticipated our dearest wishes by choosing

Sparrowhawk."

This scene so simple in its grandeur, and so truly patriarchal,

affected all the spectators, who felt their hearts swollen by sorrow.

The sachem continued--

"I feel my strength rapidly leaving me, and life is abandoning me; the

Great Spirit will soon call me to Him. My sons will carry me beneath a

tent of my nation, in order that I may breathe my last sigh in their

midst."

Stronghand, the Marquis, Peccary, and Sparrowhawk gently lifted the

wounded man on their shoulders, and carried him to the front yard

of the hacienda, followed by all the rest, who walked silently and

thoughtfully in the rear. A lodge, formed of stakes covered with

buffalo hides, had been prepared to receive the great chief; the bed

on which he was lying was softly put down, and the chief's eyes were

turned toward the setting sun. Then all the warriors and their squaws,

whom messengers had informed of the sachem's wound, and who had hurried

to the hacienda, surrounded the tent. The Mexicans themselves mingled

with the crowd, and a deadly silence brooded over the hacienda, in

which, however, more than six thousand persons were assembled at this

moment.

All eyes were turned toward the dying sachem, by whose side were

standing the members of his family, Padre Serapio, and the principal

chiefs of the Papazos. Now and then the aged man uttered a few words,

which he addressed at times to the monk, at others to his brother,

or to the Indian chiefs. When the sun was beginning to sink on the

horizon, the wounded man's breathing began to grow panting, his eyes

gradually became covered by a mist, and he did not speak; but he

tightly grasped his son's and wife's hands in his right hand, and

Sparrowhawk's in his left.

All at once a nervous tremor passed over the dying man's body; his

cheeks were tinged; his half closed eyes opened again; he sat up

without any extraneous help, and shouted, in a strong, clear voice,

which was heard by all--"I come, Lord! Papazos, farewell! Esperanza!

Esperanza! We shall meet again!"

His eyes closed; a livid pallor spread over his face; his limbs

stiffened, and he fell back heavily as he exhaled his last sigh. He was

dead. His last thought was for his wife, whom he had so dearly loved.

The sobs, hitherto restrained, burst forth suddenly and violently

among the crowd.

"Our father is dead!" Sparrowhawk shouted, in a thundering voice.

"Vengeance!" the Redskins yelled.

In fact the murderer of the chief was still alive. The white men who

did not wish to witness the horrible scene that was about to take

place, withdrew. Stronghand, the colonel, Paredes, and Mariano alone

remained. The body of the defunct sachem was at once surrounded by the

squaws: they painted it with several bright colours, dressed it in a

buffalo robe, formed his hair into a tuft as a sign of his rank, and

stretched him out on a dais. The assassin, who was pale but resolute,

was then brought up.

Sparrowhawk placed himself at the head of the corpse, and began a long

funeral oration, which was frequently interrupted by the sobs of his

audience; then, pointing with an expressive gesture to the murderer,

who was still standing motionless in the midst of the Indians who

guarded him, he said--

"Commence the punishment."

We will not describe the frightful punishment which was inflicted on

the senator; such horrible details are repulsive to our pen. We will

restrict ourselves to stating that he was flayed alive, and that all

his joints were cut in succession. He suffered indescribable agony for

three long hours ere he died. Night had set in during this interval.

When the wretched assassin was dead, chosen warriors took their chief's

body on their shoulders, and proceeded by the light of torches to the

huerta, at the spot where the hacienda hung over the precipice. On

reaching this spot the chief's magnificent steed was brought up. On

his back his master's corpse was securely tied with deerskin thongs,

holding his totem in one hand and his gun in the other; the scalps of

his foes were fastened to his saddle-bow, and on his neck and arms were

his bead necklaces and copper ornaments. Then, amid the sobs of the

squaws, the horse was led to the plateau, where the Papago warriors,

mounted and dressed in their war paint, formed a semicircle, whose ends

reached the precipice.

Then took place a scene whose savage grandeur could only be compared to

the funeral rites performed at the death of the barbarous chiefs during

those great national migrations which produced the overthrow of the

Roman Empire. By the glare of the torches--whose flames, agitated by

the wind, imparted a fantastic aspect to the gloomy and stern landscape

in this part of the huerta--the horse was placed in the midst of the

semicircle, and the horsemen, brandishing their weapons, struck up

their war song with a savage energy. The startled horse bounded on to

the plateau, bearing the corpse, to which each of its bounds imparted

such an oscillating movement that the rider appeared to be restored to

life. On reaching the brink of the precipice the horse recoiled with

terror, with flaming nostrils; then, suddenly turning round, it tried

to burst the living rampart, which was constantly contracted behind

it. Several times the animal renewed the same exertions; but at last,

attacked by a paroxysm of terror, pursued by the yells of the Indians,

and wounded by their long lances, it rose on its hind legs, uttered a

terrible snort, and leaped into the gulf with its burden. At the same

moment all the torches were extinguished, the tumult was followed by a

mournful silence, and the warriors retired.

On the morrow, at sunrise, the Redskins left the hacienda, to which

they did not once return during the whole of the war, which lasted

three years. We may possibly some day tell what was the termination of

this grand uprising of the Indians, who on several occasions all but

deprived the Mexican republic of its finest and richest, provinces.

THE END