be the same Rafael Ijurra that used to live at San Antonio,
there's more than one Texan would like to raise _his_ hair. The same--
it must be--there's no two of the name; 'taint likely--no."

"What do you know of him?"

"Know?--that he's about the most precious scoundrel in all Texas or
Mexico either, and that's saying a good deal. Rafael Ijurra? 'Tis he,
by thunder! It _can_ be nobody else; and Holingsworth--Ha! now I think
of it, it's just the man; and Harding Holingsworth, of all men living,
has good reasons to remember _him_."

"How? Explain!"

The Texan paused for a moment, as if to collect his scattered memories,
and then proceeded to detail what he knew of Rafael Ijurra. His
account, without the expletives and emphatic ejaculations which adorned
it, was substantially as follows:--

Rafael Ijurra was by birth a Texan of Mexican race. He had formerly
possessed a hacienda near San Antonio de Bexar, with other considerable
property, all of which he had spent at play, or otherwise dissipated, so
that he had sunk to the status of a professional gambler. Up to the
date of the Mier expedition he had passed off as a citizen of Texas,
under the new regime, and pretended much patriotic attachment to the
young republic. When the Mier adventure was about being organised,
Ijurra had influence enough to have himself elected one of its officers.
No one suspected his fidelity to the cause. He was one of those who at
the halt by Laredo urged the imprudent advance upon Mier; and his
presumed knowledge of the country--of which, he was a native--gave
weight to his counsel. It afterwards proved that his free advice was
intended for the benefit of the enemy, with whom he was in secret
correspondence.

On the night before the battle Ijurra was missing. The Texan army was
captured after a brave defence--in which they slew more than their own
number of the enemy--and, under guard, the remnant was marched off for
the capital of Mexico. On the second or third day of their march, what
was the astonishment of the Texan prisoners to see Rafael Ijurra _in the
uniform of a Mexican officer, and forming part of their escort_! But
that their hands were bound, they would have torn him to pieces, so
enraged were they at this piece of black treason.

"I was not in that ugly scrape," continued the lieutenant. "As luck
would have it, I was down with a fever in Brazos bottom, or I guess I
should have had to _draw my bean_ with the