have come!"

"Ay, pray God it may not be too late to follow their trail. But no;
only last night at midnight, you say? There's been neither rain nor
high wind--it will be fresh as dew; and if ever hound--Ha! where's
Cibolo?"

"At my house, the dog is. He was lost, this morning; we thought he had
been killed or carried off; but at midday my people found him by the
rancho here, covered with mud, and bleeding where he had received the
prick of a spear. We think the Indians must have taken him along, and
that he escaped from them on the road."

"It is strange enough--Oh! my poor Rosita!--poor lost sister!--where art
thou at this moment?--where?--where?--Shall I ever see you again?--My
God! my God!"

And Carlos once more sunk back into his attitude of despair.

Then suddenly springing to his feet, with clenched fist and flashing
eyes, he cried out--

"Wide though the prairie plains, and faint the trail of these dastardly
robbers, yet keen is the _eye_ of Carlos the cibolero! I shall find
thee yet--I shall find thee, though it cost me the search of a life.
Fear not, Rosita! fear not, sweet sister! I come to your rescue! If
thou art wronged, woe, woe, to the tribe that has done it!" Then
turning to Don Juan, he continued,--"The night is on--we can do nothing
to-night. Don Juan!--friend, brother!--bring me to her--to my mother."

There is a wild poetry in the language of grief, and there was poetry in
the words of the cibolero; but these bursts of poetic utterance were
brief, and he again returned to the serious reality of his situation.
Every circumstance that could aid him in his purposed pursuit was
considered and arranged in a sober and practical manner. His arms and
accoutrements, his horse, all were cared for, so as to be ready by the
earliest hour of light. His servants, and those of Don Juan, were to
accompany him, and for these horses were also prepared.

Pack-mules, too, with provisions and other necessaries for a long
journey--for Carlos had no intention of returning without the
accomplishment of his sworn purpose--rescue or revenge. His was no
pursuit to be baffled by slight obstacles. He was not going to bring
back the report "_no los pudimos alcanzar_" He was resolved to trail the
robbers to the farthest point of the prairies--to follow them to their
fastens, wherever that might be.

Don Juan was with him heart and soul, for the ranchero's interest in the
result was equal to his own--his ag