Every now and then Don Juan rode over to the rancho, and advised them to
come and stay at his house--a large strong building well defended by
himself and his numerous peons. But the mother of Rosita only laughed
at the fears of Don Juan; and Rosita herself, from motives of delicacy,
of course refused to accede to his proposal.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was the third night from the time the Indians had been first heard
of. The mother and daughter had laid aside their spindle and loom, and
were about to retire to their primitive couches on the earthen floor,
when Cibolo was seen to spring from his petate, and rush towards the
door, growling fiercely.

His growl increased to a bark--so earnest, that it was evident some one
was outside. The door was shut and barred; but the old woman, without
even inquiring who was there, pulled out the bar, and opened the door.

She had scarcely shown herself when the wild whoop of Indians rang in
her ears, and a blow from a heavy club prostrated her upon the
threshold. Spite the terrible onset of the dog, several savages, in all
the horrid glare of paint and feathers, rushed into the house yelling
fearfully, and brandishing their weapons; and in less than five minutes'
time, the young girl, screaming with terror, was borne in their arms to
the outside of the rancho, and there tied upon the back of a mule.

The few articles which the Indians deemed of any value were carried away
with them; and the savages, after setting fire to the rancho, made off
in haste.

Rosita saw the blaze of the rancho as she sat tied upon the mule. She
had seen her mother stretched upon the door-step, and was in fact
dragged over her apparently lifeless form; and the roof was now in
flames!

"My poor mother!" she muttered in her agony; "O God! O God! what will
become of my poor mother?"

Almost simultaneously with this attack, or a little after it, the
Indians appeared before the house of the ranchero, Don Juan; but, after
yelling around it and firing several arrows over the azotea and against
the door, they retired.

Don Juan was apprehensive for his friends at the rancho. As soon as the
Indians had gone away from about his own premises, he stole out; and,
trusting to the darkness, made his way in that direction.

He had not gone far before the blaze of the building came under his
eyes, causing the blood to rush cold through his veins.

He