should have possessed a
beautiful creature, whereas I am still a solitary bachelor. But it's my
luck, camarado, always to sacrifice my own interests to yours!"

"Look here, Bocardo!" said the brigand leader after a moment of pensive
silence, in which he appeared to reflect upon the proposals of his
astute associate, "we shall get ourselves into trouble, if we carry on
in this fashion. It may end in our being hunted down like a pair of
wild beasts."

"We have a hundred and fifty devoted followers," simply replied the
other, "every one of them brave and true as his dagger."

"Well!" said Arroyo, still speaking in a reflective tone, "I do not say,
but--I shall think it over."

The eyes of Bocardo flashed with a fierce joy as he perceived the
undecided bearing of his associate. Well knew he that, before the end
of that day, he should be able to obtain Arroyo's full consent and
co-operation in the dark and terrible deed he had designed to
accomplish.

CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN.

A REAL VIRAGO.

The two brigands remained for some time without saying a word, both
reflecting on the scheme of murder and pillage which they now
premeditated. At this moment the tent flap was raised, and a figure
appeared in the entrance. It was a woman of masculine mien--a true
virago--robust and hale; but whose countenance betrayed the ravage of
evil passions rather than time. Her coarse hair clubbed around her
head, and held in its place by a large tortoiseshell comb with gold
pendants, showed no sign of advanced age. It was black as ebony.
Around her neck were hung numerous chains of gold and glass beads, to
which were attached a number of crosses, scapularies, and other golden
ornaments; but in spite of this gaudy adorning her countenance was
hideous to behold, and did not belie the portrait of Arroyo's wife which
had been sketched by Bocardo, for it was she. As she presented herself
at the opening of the tent, rage was depicted in her countenance,
exhibiting itself in the swollen veins of her neck and forehead, and in
the rolling of her bloodshot eyes.

"A shame on you!" cried she, casting on Bocardo, whom she both hated and
despised, the angry look she feared to give her husband, "a shame on
you, that after the oath you have taken, there should still remain a
stone of this nest of vipers, or a man to defend it!"

"Well--what now?" demanded Arroyo, in an ill-humoured tone. "What nest
of vipers are you speaking of?"

"The