route these sounds accompanied the two riders--that is,
the wailing of the jackals, mingled with the more fearful utterance of
the great feline denizens of the desert. All at once, however, these
noises became stilled, as a sound of a far different nature indicated
the presence of some human being interfering in this scene of the
desert. It was the crack of a gun, but with that quick sharp report
that distinguishes the detonation of the rifle.

"A shot!" exclaimed Tiburcio. "But who can be amusing himself by
hunting at this time of night, and in the middle of such a desert?"

"Very likely one of those American trappers we see now and then at
Arispe, where they come to sell their beaver skins. These fellows think
as little of a puma or a jaguar as they do of a jackal."

No other noise was afterwards heard to break the imposing silence of the
night. The stars were shining brightly in the blue heaven, and the
breeze, that had now become much cooler, scarce made the slightest
rustling as it passed through the branches of the iron-wood trees.

"Where are you taking me?" asked Tiburcio, after an interval of silence.

"To La Poza, where I have some companions who are to pass the night
there. To-morrow, if you like, on to the hacienda of Venado."

"To the hacienda of Venado! that is just where I was going."

Had it been daylight, Cuchillo might have seen a blush suddenly redden
the cheeks of the young man as he pronounced these words; for it was an
affair of the heart, that in spite of all the efforts he had made to
resist it, was attracting him to the hacienda de Venado. The object of
his interest was no other than the daughter of the _haciendado_
himself--the young heiress already spoken of.

"For what purpose were you going there?" inquired Cuchillo, in a
careless tone.

This simple question was nevertheless difficult to be answered. His
companion was not the man to whom the young gambusino could give his
confidence. He hesitated before making reply.

"I am without resources," said he at length, "and I go to ask Don
Augustin Pena if he will accept me in the capacity of one of his
_vaqueros_."

"'Tis a poor business you wish to undertake, _amigo_. To expose your
life forever for such paltry pay as you will get--to keep watch at night
and run about all the day; exposed to the burning heat of the sun, and
by night to the cold--for this is the lot of a vaquero."

"What can I do?" replied Tiburcio. "Beside