e tent, and makes for the place where she supposes the
prisoners to be kept.

Starting to his feet, Uraga rushes after. His intent is to overtake and
bring her back, even if he have to carry her.

He is too late. Before he can come up with her she has reached the spot
where her brother lies bound, and kneels beside him with arms embracing,
her lips pressing his brow, his cheeks moistened by her tears.

CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT.

A TERRIBLE INTENTION.

Not for long does the scene of agonised affection remain uninterrupted.
In a few seconds it is intruded on by him who is causing its agony.

Uraga, hastening after, has reached the spot and stands contemplating
it. A spectacle to melt a heart of stone, it has no softening effect on
his. His brow his black with rage, his eyes shining like coals of fire.

His first impulse is to call Galvez and order him to drag brother and
sister apart. His next to do this himself. He is about seizing Adela's
wrist, when a thought restrains him. No melting or impulse of humanity.
There is not a spark of it in his bosom. Only a hope, suddenly
conceived, that with the two now together he may repeat his proposal
with a better chance of its being entertained.

From the expression upon their countenances he can see that in the
interval before his coming up words have passed between them--few and
hastily spoken, but enough for each to have been told what he has been
saying to the other. It does not daunt; on the contrary, but determines
him to renew his offer, and, if necessary, reiterate his threats.

There is no one within earshot for whom he need care. Galvez has taken
Don Prospero far apart. Roblez is inside the tent, though he thinks not
of him; while the Indian damsel, who stands trembling by, is not worth a
thought. Besides, he is now more than ever regardless of the result.

"Don Valerian Miranda!" he exclaims, recovering breath after his chase
across the camp-ground. "I take it your sister has told you what has
passed between us. If not, I shall tell you myself."

"My sister has communicated all--even the falsehood by which you've
sought to fortify your infamous proposal."

"_Carramba_!" exclaims Uraga, upon whose cheeks there is no blush of
shame for the deception practised. "Does the offer to save your life,
at risk of my own--to rescue you from a felon's death--does that deserve
the harsh epithet with which you are pleased to qualify it? Come,
senor, you ar