d no thoughts about anything.

I awoke at length from this stupor. I saw that the savages had
completed their preparations for the cruel sport.

Two rows of men extended across the plain to a distance of several
hundred yards. They were armed with clubs, and stood facing each other
with an interval of three or four paces between their ranks. Down the
interval we were to run, receiving blows from everyone who could give
them as we passed. Should any of us succeed in running through the
whole line, and reach the mountain foot before we could be overtaken,
the promise was that our lives should be spared!

"Is this true, Sanchez?" I whispered to the torero, who was standing
near me.

"No," was the reply, given also in a whisper. "It is only a trick to
make you run the better and show them the more sport. You are to die
all the same. I heard them say so."

Indeed, it would have been slight grace had they given us our lives on
such conditions; for it would have been impossible for the strongest and
swiftest man to have passed through between their lines.

"Sanchez!" I said again, addressing the torero, "Seguin was your
friend. You will do all you can for her?"

Sanchez well knew whom I meant.

"I will! I will!" he replied, seeming deeply affected.

"Brave Sanchez! tell her how I felt for her. No, no, you need not tell
her that."

I scarce knew what I was saying.

"Sanchez!" I again whispered--a thought that had been in my mind now
returning--"could you not--a knife, a weapon--anything--could you not
drop one when I am set loose?"

"It would be of no use. You could not escape if you had fifty."

"It may be that I could not. I would try. At the worst, I can but die;
and better die with a weapon in my hands!"

"It would be better," muttered the torero in reply. "I will try to help
you to a weapon, but my life may be--"

He paused. "If you look behind you," he continued, in a significant
manner, while he appeared to examine the tops of the distant mountains,
"you may see a tomahawk. I think it is held carelessly. It might be
snatched."

I understood his meaning, and stole a glance around. Dacoma was at a
few paces' distance, superintending the start. I saw the weapon in his
belt. It was loosely stuck. It might be snatched!

I possess extreme tenacity of life, with energy to preserve it. I have
not illustrated this energy in the adventures through which we have
passed; for, up to a la