elf, with his daughters and domestics, occupies
the old mission-building, which also gives lodgment to Luis Dupre and
his belongings. For the young planter is now looked upon as a member of
the Armstrong family, and it wants but a word from one in holy orders to
make him really so. And such an one has come out with the colonists.
The marriage ceremony is but deferred until the cotton-seed be safe
under the soil. Then there will be a day of jubilee, such as has never
been seen upon the San Saba; a _fiesta_, which in splendour will eclipse
anything the Spanish monks, celebrated for such exhibitions, have ever
got up, or attempted.

But "business before pleasure" is the adage of the hour; and, after a
day or two given to rest, with the arrangement of household affairs, the
real work of colonising commences. The little painted ploughs,
transported from the States, are set to soiling their paint, by turning
up the fertile clod of the San Saba valley, which has so long lain
fallow; while the seed of the cotton-plant is scattered far and wide
over hundreds--ay, thousands of acres.

Around the ancient mission is inaugurated a new life, with scenes of
industry, stirring as those presided over by the _padres_.

Is it sure of being as prosperous, or more likely to be permanent?

One confining his view to the valley--regarding only the vigorous
activity there displayed--would answer this question in the affirmative.

But he who looks farther off--raising his eyes to the bluff on the
opposite side of the river, fixing them on that spot where the Indians
made halt--would hesitate before thus prognosticating. In the dusky
cohort he might suspect some danger threatening the new settlement.

True, the savages are no longer there. After seeing the waggons one
after another becoming stationary, like vultures deprived of a carrion
repast, they moved away. But not far. Only about five miles, to a
grove of timber standing back upon the plain, where they have made a
more permanent camp.

Two alone are left upon the cliff's edge; evidently to act as videttes.
They keep watch night and day, one always remaining awake. Especially
during the night hours do they appear on the alert--with eyes bent on
the far off mission-buildings--watching the window-lights that steadily
shine, and the torches that flit to and fro. Watching for something not
yet seen. What can it be?

And what is the design of these painted savages, who look mor