bridle path, faintly indicated by
the previous passage of an occasional wayfarer or the tracks of straying
cattle.

The sun was just sinking over the far western Cordilleras when the
precipitous wall of the Sierra Blanca, opening wider on each side of the
defile, disclosed to the spoil-laden party a view of the broad level
plain known as the valley of the Del Norte.

Soon after, they had descended to it; and in the midst of night, with a
starry sky overhead, were traversing the level road upon which the broad
wheel-tracks of rude country carts--_carretas_--told of the proximity of
settlements. It was a country road, leading out from the foot-hills of
the sierra to a crossing of the river, near the village of Tome, where
it intersected with the main route of travel running from El Paso in the
south through all the riverine towns of New Mexico.

Turning northward from Tome, the white robbers, late disguised as
Indians, pursued their course towards the town of Albuquerque. Any one
meeting them on the road would have mistaken them for a party of traders
_en route_ from the Rio Abajo to the capital of Santa Fe.

But they went not so far. Albuquerque was the goal of their journey,
though on arriving there--which they did a little after midnight--they
made no stop in the town, nor any noise to disturb its inhabitants, at
that hour asleep.

Passing silently through the unpaved streets, they kept on a little
farther. A large house or hacienda, tree shaded, and standing outside
the suburbs, was the stopping place they were aiming at; and towards
this they directed their course. There was a _mirador_ or belvidere
upon the roof--the same beside which Colonel Miranda and his American
guest, just twelve months before, had stood smoking cigars.

As then, there was a guard of soldiers within the covered entrance, with
a sentry outside the gate. He was leaning against the postern, his form
in the darkness just distinguishable against the grey-white of the wall.

"_Quien-viva_?" he hailed as the two horsemen rode up, the hoof-strokes
startling him out of a half-drunken doze.

"_El Coronel-Commandante_!" responded the tall man in a tone that told
of authority.

It proved to be countersign sufficient, the speaker's voice being
instantly recognised.

The sentry, bringing his piece to the salute, permitted the horsemen to
pass without further parley, as also the _atajo_ in their train, all
entering and disappearing within