disgrace.

According to others, the schooner was simply a smuggler of European
goods.

Without troubling herself about these rumors, more or less important,
Sarah, whose ride to the port had been only a pretext, returned toward
Lima, which she reached near the banks of the Rimac.

She ascended them toward the bridge: numbers of soldiers, mestizoes, and
Indians, were stationed at various points on the shore.

Liberta had acquainted the young girl with the events of the night. In
compliance with her orders, he interrogated some Indians leaning over
the parapet, and learned that although Martin Paz had been undoubtedly
drowned, his body had not yet been recovered.

Sarah was pale and almost fainting; it required all her strength of soul
not to abandon herself to her grief.

Among the people wandering on the banks, she remarked an Indian with
ferocious features--the Sambo! He was crouched on the bank, and seemed a
prey to despair.

As Sarah passed near the old mountaineer, she heard these words, full of
gloomy anger:

"Wo! wo! They have killed the son of the Sambo! They have killed my
son!"

The young girl resolutely drew herself up, made a sign to Liberta to
follow her; and this time, without caring whether she was observed or
not, went directly to the church of Santa Anna; left her mule in charge
of the Indian, entered the Catholic temple, and asking for the good
Father Joachim, knelt on the stone steps, praying to Jesus and Mary for
the soul of Martin Paz.

CHAPTER IV.

A SPANISH GRANDEE.

Any other than the Indian, Martin Paz, would have, indeed, perished in
the waters of the Rimac; to escape death, his surprising strength, his
insurmountable will, and especially his sublime coolness, one of the
privileges of the free hordes of the _pampas_ of the New World, had all
been found necessary.

Martin knew that his pursuers would concentrate their efforts to seize
him below the bridge; it seemed impossible for him to overcome the
current, and that the Indian must be carried down; but by vigorous
strokes he succeeded in stemming the torrent; he dived repeatedly, and
finding the under-currents less strong, at last ventured to land, and
concealed himself behind a thicket of mangrove-trees.

But what was to become of him? Retreat was perilous; the soldiers might
change their plans and ascend the river; the Indian must then inevitably
be captured; he would lose his life, and, worse yet, Sarah. His decisi