did not stop. He was afoot, but he was armed, and he dashed madly
forward, resolved to defend Rosita, or die!

In a few minutes he stood before the door of the rancho; and there, to
his horror, lay the still senseless form of the mother, her wild and
ghastly features illuminated by the blaze from the roof. The fire had
not yet reached her, though in a few moments more she would have been
buried in the flames!

Don Juan drew her forth into the garden, and then rushed frantically
around calling on Rosita.

But there was no reply. The crackling blaze--the sighing of the night
wind--the hooting of the cliff owl, and the howling of the _coyote_,
alone answered his anxious calls.

After remaining until all hope had vanished, he turned towards the
prostrate body, and knelt down to examine it. To his surprise there was
still life, and, after her lips had been touched with water, the old
woman showed symptoms of recovery. She had only been stunned by the
heavy blow.

Don Juan at length lifted her in his arms, and taking the well-known
path returned with his burden, and with a heavy heart, to his own house.

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

Next morning the news of the affair was carried through all the
settlement, adding to the terror of the inhabitants. The Comandante
with a large troop galloped conspicuously through the town; and after
much loud talk and empty demonstrations, went off on the trail which the
Indians were supposed to have taken.

Long before night the troopers returned with their usual report, "_los
barbaros no pudimos alcanzar_." (We could not overtake the savages.)

They said that they had followed the trail to the Pecos, where the
Indians had crossed, and that the savages had continued on towards the
Llano Estacado.

This piece of news gave some relief, for it was conjectured, if the
marauders had gone in that direction, their plundering would end. They
had probably proceeded to join the rest of their tribe, known to be
somewhere in that quarter.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

Vizcarra and his gay lancers passed up the valley, on their return from
the pursuit at an early hour of the evening.

Scarcely had a short hour elapsed when another cavalcade, dusty and
wayworn, was seen moving along the same road, and heading towards the
settlements. It could hardly be termed a cavalcade, as it consisted of
an atajo of pack-mules, with some carretas drawn