uestion as to their character now. There they are, with their
square-peaked corded caps, and plumes of horsehair; their pennoned
spears sloped over their shoulders; their yellow cloaks folded and
strapped over the cantles of their saddles; sabres lying along thighs,
clinking against spurs and stirrups--all the picturesque panoply of
lancers.

It is not this that strikes dismay into the minds of those who are
spectators, for it is now struck into their heart of hearts. On one
figure of the cavalcade the eyes of both become fixed; he who rides at
its head.

Their attention had been first attracted to his horse, Wilder gasping
out, soon as he set eyes on the animal, "Look yonner, Frank!"

"At what?"

"The fellur ridin' foremost. D'ye see the anymal he's on? It's the
same we war obleeged to abandon on takin' to the rocks."

"By heavens! my horse!"

"Yurs, to a sartinty."

"And his rider! The man I fought with at Chihuahua, the ruffian Uraga!"

On recognising his antagonist in the duel, the Kentuckian gives out a
groan. The Texan, too. For on both the truth flashes in all its
fulness--all its terrible reality.

It is not the possession of Hamersley's horse, identifying its rider
with the destroyers of the caravan. That is nothing new, and scarce
surprises them. What pains--agonises them--is the direction in which
the soldiers are proceeding.

They can have no doubt as to the purpose of the military march, or the
point to which it is tending.

"Yes," says Walt, "they're strikin' straight fur the valley, goin'
'ithout guess-work, too. Thar's a guide along, an' thar's been a
treetur."

"Who do you think?"

"That Injun, Manoel. Ye remember he went on a errand 'bout a week ago,
to fetch them some things that war needed. Instead, he's made diskivery
o' the hidin' place o' his master, and sold that master's head. That's
what he's did, sure."

"It is," mutters Hamersley, in a tone that tells of affliction too deep
for speech. Before his mind is a fearful forecast. Don Valerian a
prisoner to Uraga and his ruffians--Don Prospero, too; both to be
dragged back to Albuquerque and cast into a military prison. Perhaps
worse still--tried by court-martial soon as captured, and shot as soon
as tried. Nor is this the direst of his previsions. There is one
darker--Adela in the company of a ribald crew, surrounded by the brutal
soldiery, powerless, unprotected--she his own dear one, now his
betrothed! Overc