R FORTY.

A REINFORCEMENT.

For the first time, since encountering the guerrilla, I breathed freely,
and felt confident we should get free. My comrade shared my belief; and
it is needless to say that we recrossed the summit of the mesa with
lighter hearts and step more buoyant.

Of course we no longer speculated about making the descent; with the
fragment of rope left, that was impossible. We were simply returning to
the front, to keep an eye upon the guerrilleros, and, if possible,
prevent them from approaching our horses--should they by any chance
discover that we had retreated from our position behind the rock.

We were the more anxious about our horses, now that we had less
apprehension for ourselves; at least I can answer for myself, and the
explanation is easy. So long as I felt the probability that every
moment might be the last of my life, the fate of Moro and the white
steed was but a secondary consideration. Now that I felt certain I
should survive this perilous escapade, the future once more urged its
claims; and I was anxious not only to preserve my own steed, but the
beautiful creature that had led me into all this peril, but whose
capture still promised its rich reward.

That all danger was past--that in a few hours we should be free--was the
full belief both of my companion and myself. Perhaps you may not
comprehend from what _data_ we drew so confident and comfortable a
conclusion, though our reasoning was simple enough. We knew that Rube
would reach the rancheria, and return with a rescue--that was all.

'Tis true we were not without some anxiety. The rangers might no longer
be there?--the army might have marched?--perhaps the picket was
withdrawn? Rube himself might be intercepted, or slain?

The last hypothesis gave us least concern. We had full trust in the
trapper's ability to penetrate to the American camp--to the enemy's, if
necessary. We had just been favoured with a specimen of his skill.
Whether the army had advanced or not, Rube would reach it before
morning, if he should have to steal a horse upon the way. He would soon
find the rangers; and, even without orders, Holingsworth would _lend_
him a few--half-a-dozen of them would be enough. In the worst view of
the case, there were stragglers enough about the camp--odd birds, that
could easily be enlisted for such a duty. We had scarcely a doubt that
our comrade would come back with a rescue.

As to the time, we were left to