another.
The struggle was short and noiseless, and one might have believed them
two spirits. I prayed to God in behalf of the poor young man who thus
exposed his life with so much indifference and intrepidity. A short
time afterwards I saw him return; the blood was flowing over his face
from a large wound on his head.

"`Oh, Heavens!' I cried; `you are wounded.'

"`It is nothing,' he said; `I will now wake our companions.'

"What do you think, Senorita?" continued the narrator. "Was not my
dream a warning from God? A party of Indians, whom we had put to flight
on the other side of the mountains--had followed our track in order to
revenge the blood of their companions, which had been spilt upon the
banks of the Gila--at the place where we had rescued the young man.

"But the Indians had to contend with terrible adversaries. Their
sentinel was the phantom who had been killed by the courageous hunter
before he had time to utter a cry of alarm, and the rest, surprised in
their sleep, were nearly all stabbed; a few sought safety in flight.

"The night had not passed before this new exploit was accomplished.

"The tall hunter hastened to dress the wound of the young man, whom he
loved as a son; and the latter, overcome with fatigue, stretched himself
upon the ground and slept.

"In the mean time his two friends watched by his side to guide his
sleep, whilst I in sadness contemplated his altered countenance, his
reduced figure, and the bloodstained bandage with which his head was
bound."

"Poor youth," interrupted Dona Rosarita, gently, "still so young, and
yet compelled to lead a life of incessant danger. And his father, also,
he must have trembled for the life of a beloved son?"

"Beloved, as you say, Senorita," continued the narrator.

"During a period of six months I was a daily witness to the infinite
tenderness of this father for his child.

"The young man slept tranquilly, and his lips softly murmured a name--
that of a woman--the same which had lately been revealed to me in his
slumber."

Rosarita's dark eyes seemed to question the narrator, but her words
expired upon her parted lips; she dared not utter the name her heart was
whispering in her ears.

"But I encroach upon your time," continued Gayferos, without appearing
to notice the young girl's agitation. "I draw towards the close of my
narrative.

"The young man woke just as day began to dawn. `Comrade,' said the
giant to me, `go down yon