n' of it till this mornin', when one of the sodgers foun' a
Spanish sombrary out thar; and Chane heern some'dy say the shot passed
through Major Twing's markey. Besides, we foun' this butcher-knife
where yer was lyin'."

Lincoln here held up a species of Mexican sword called a _machete_.

"Ha!--well."

"That's all, Cap'n; only it's my belief there was Mexicans on this
island, and them Frenchmen's gone with them."

After Lincoln left me I lay musing on this still somewhat mysterious
affair. My memory, however, gradually grew clearer; and the events of
the preceding night soon became linked together, and formed a complete
chain. The shot that passed so near my head in Twing's tent--the boat--
the French words I had heard before I received the blow--and the
exclamation, "_Coup pour coup_!"--all convinced me that Lincoln's
conjectures were right.

Dubrosc had fired the shot and struck the blow that had left me
senseless.

But who could the woman be whose voice I had heard pleading in my
behalf?

My thoughts reverted to the boy who had gone off with Dubrosc, and whom
I had often observed in the company of the latter. A strange attachment
appeared to exist between them, in which the boy seemed to be the
devoted slave of the strong fierce Creole. Could this be a woman?

I recollected having been struck with his delicate features, the
softness of his voice, and the smallness of his hands. There were other
points, besides, in the _tournure_ of the boy's figure that had appeared
singular to me. I had frequently observed the eyes of this lad bent
upon me, when Dubrosc was not present, with a strange and unaccountable
expression.

Many other peculiarities connected with the boy and Dubrosc, which at
the time had passed unnoticed and unheeded, now presented themselves to
my recollection, all tending to prove the identity of the boy with the
woman whose voice I had heard in the thicket.

I could not help smiling at the night's adventures; determined, however,
to conceal that part which related to the skeleton.

In a few days my strength was restored. The cut I had received was not
deep--thanks to my forage-cap and the bluntness of the Frenchman's
weapon.

CHAPTER SIX.

THE LANDING AT SACRIFICIOS.

Early in the month of March the troops at Lobos were re-embarked, and
dropped down to the roadstead of Anton Lizardo. The American fleet was
already at anchor there, and in a few days above a hundred sail of