souvenirs carried him. But during the day, the heroic young man tried
to hide under an apparent calm, the melancholy that devoured him. He
smiled, with sad resignation, at those plans for the future which the
Canadian sometimes enlarged on before him--he so happy in having found
him, and who trembled to lose again his beloved Fabian, whose hand he
hoped would one day close his eyes. The blind tenderness of Bois-Rose
did not divine the abyss under the calm surface of the lake, but Pepe
was rather more clear-sighted.

"Well," said Pepe, after a long silence, "the inhabitants of Madrid
would pay dearly for such a stream of water in the Manzanares; but we
have not the less lost a day which might have brought us nearer to the
Golden Valley, and from which we cannot now be far distant."

"I allow that," replied Bois-Rose, "but the child," for so he called the
vigorous young man before them, "is not so accustomed as we are to long
marches, and though sixty leagues in twelve days is not very much for
us, it begins to tell on him. But before he has been a year with us, he
will be able to walk as far as ourselves."

Pepe could not help smiling at this answer, but the Canadian did not
perceive it.

"See," said the Spaniard, pointing to Fabian, "how the poor lad has
changed in a few days. For my part, at his age, I should have preferred
the glance of a damsel and the Puerta del Sol at Madrid to all the
magnificence of the desert. Fatigue alone has not produced this change
in him. There is some secret which he does not tell us, but I will
penetrate it one of these days," added Pepe mentally.

At these words the Canadian turned his head quickly towards his beloved
child, but a smile of joy from Fabian chased away the sudden cloud from
the brow of his adoptive father. Fabian indeed smiled; he was dreaming
that he was on his knees before Rosarita, listening to the sweet voice
of the young girl, who was recounting her anguish during his long
absence, and that Bois-Rose stood behind them leaning on his rifle and
blessing them both. Ah! it was only a dream.

The two hunters looked for a moment silently at the sleeper.

"There lies the last descendant of the Medianas," said Pepe, with a
sigh.

"What care I for the Medianas and their powerful race?" replied the
Canadian. "I know but Fabian. When I saved him, and attached myself to
him as though he had been my own, did I ask about his ancestors?"

"You will wake him if