?" I said to Lincoln, who had reloaded
his gun, and stood eyeing the Mexican, apparently calculating the
distance.

"I'm feerd, Cap'n, he's too fur. I'd guv a half-year's sodger-pay for a
crack out o' the major's Dutch gun. We can lose nothin' in tryin'.
Murter, will yer stan' afore me? Thar ain't no kiver, an' the feller's
watchin'. He'll dodge like a duck if he sees me takin' sight on 'im."

Chane threw his large body in front, and Lincoln, cautiously slipping
his rifle over his comrade's shoulder, sighted the Mexican.

The latter had noticed the manoeuvre, and, perceiving the danger he had
thrust himself into, was about turning to leap down from the rock when
the rifle cracked--his plumed hat flew off, and throwing out his arms,
he fell with a dead plunge upon the water! The next moment his body was
sucked into the current, and, followed by his hat and plumes, was borne
down the canon with the velocity of lightning.

Several of his comrades uttered a cry of terror; and those who had
followed him out into the open channel ran back towards the bank, and
screened themselves behind the rocks. A voice, louder than the rest,
was heard exclaiming:

"_Carajo! guardaos!--esta el rifle del diablo_!" (Look out! it is the
devil's rifle!)

It was doubtless the comrade of Jose, who had been in the skirmish of La
Virgen, and had felt the bullet of the _zundnadel_.

The guerilleros, awed by the death of their leader--for it was Yanez who
had fallen--crouched behind the rocks. Even those who had remained with
the horses, six hundred yards off, sheltered themselves behind trees and
projections of the bank. The party nearest us kept loading and firing
their escopettes. Their bullets flattened upon the face of the cliff or
whistled over our heads. Clayley, Chane, Raoul, and myself, being
unarmed, had thrown ourselves behind the scarp to avoid catching a stray
shot. Not so Lincoln, who stood boldly out on the highest point of the
bluff, as if disdaining to dodge their bullets.

I never saw a man so completely soaring above the fear of death. There
was a sublimity about him that I remember being struck with at the time;
and I remember, too, feeling the inferiority of my own courage. It was
a stupendous picture, as he stood like a colossus clutching his deadly
weapon, and looking over his long brown beard at the skulking and
cowardly foe. He stood without a motion--without even winking--although
the leaden hail hur