t more its real master has hold of the bridle-rein, his shout
of joy answered by a whimper of recognition.

Seeing how matters stand, the Rangers hasten back to get possession of
their horses; others make for those of the fallen lancers, that now in
affright are rearing and straining at the end of their trail-ropes in a
vain endeavour to break loose.

For neither can Hamersley wait. It will take time, which his
impatience--his burning thirst for vengeance--cannot brook. He is
thinking of his slain comrades, whose bones lie unburied on the sands of
the Canadian; also of the outrage so near being perpetrated, so
opportunely interrupted.

But one thought stays him--Adela. Where is she? Is she safe? He turns
towards the marquee late guarded by Galvez. A very different individual
is now seen at its entrance. Walt Wilder, with bowie-knife bared, its
blade cutting the cords that kept the tent closed. In an instant they
are severed, the flap flies open, and two female forms rush forth. In
another instant one of them is lying along Hamersley's breast, the other
in the embrace of Wilder. Kisses and words are exchanged. Only a few
of the latter, till Hamersley, withdrawing himself from the arms that
softly entwine him, tells of his intention to part.

"For what purpose?" is the interrogatory, asked in tremulous accents,
and with eyes that speak painful surprise.

"To redress my wrongs and yours, Adela," is the response firmly spoken.

"_Santissima_!" she exclaims, seeing her lover prepare to spring into
the saddle. "Francisco! Stay with me. Do not again seek danger. The
wretch is not worthy of your vengeance."

"'Tis not vengeance, but justice. 'Tis my duty to chastise this crime--
the greatest on earth. Something whispers me 'tis a destiny, and I
shall succeed. Dearest Adela, do not stay me. There is no danger. I
shall be back soon, bringing Uraga's sword, perhaps himself, along with
me."

"Thar's odds again ye, Frank," interposes Wilder. "Two to one. If I
foller afoot I mayn't be up in time. An' the boys that's gone arter
thar critters, they'll be too late."

"Never mind the odds! I'll make it up with the five shots still in my
revolver. See, dearest, your brother is coming this way. Go meet and
tell him I shall soon return with a prisoner to be exchanged for him.
Another kiss! _Adios! hasta luego_!"

Tearing himself from arms so reluctant to release him, he bounds upon
the back of his hors