ere ready. Carlos stood by the bedside of his mother to take leave.
She beckoned him near. She was still weak, for blood had flown freely
from her, and her voice was low and feeble.

"My son," said she, as Carlos bent over her, "know you what Indians you
are going to pursue?"

"No, mother," replied Carlos, "but I fear they are our enemies the
Jicarillas."

"Have the Jicarillas _beards on their faces and jewels on their
fingers_?"

"No mother; why do you ask such a question?--you know they have no
beards! My poor mother!" added he, turning to Don Juan; "this terrible
stroke has taken her senses!"

"Follow the trail, then!" she continued, without noticing the last
remark uttered by Carlos in a whisper; "follow the trail--perhaps it
will guide thee to--" and she whispered the rest into his ear.

"What, mother?" said he, starting, as if at some strange information.
"Dost thou think so?"

"I have some suspicion--only _suspicion_--but follow the trail--it will
guide thee--follow it, and be satisfied!"

"Do not doubt me, mother; I shall be satisfied of _that_."

"One promise before you go. Be not rash--be prudent."

"Fear not, mother! I will."

"If it be so--"

"If it be so, mother, you'll soon see me back. God bless you!--My
blood's on fire--I cannot stay!--God bless you, mother!--Farewell!"

Next minute the train of mounted men, with Don Juan and Carlos at its
head, passed out of the great gate, and took the road that led out from
the valley.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

It was not yet daybreak when the party left the house, but they had not
started too early. Carlos knew that they could follow the road so far
as the lancers had gone, in the darkness; and it would be light enough
by the time they had got to the point where these had turned back.

Five miles below the house of Don Juan the road forked--one, leading
southward, was that by which Carlos had returned the evening before; the
other, or left fork, led nearly in a direct line towards the Pecos,
where there was a ford. The left fork had been that taken by the
troopers, as their horse-tracks showed.

It was now day. They could have followed the trail at a gallop, as it
was a much-travelled and well-known path. But the eye of the cibolero
was not bent upon this plain trail, but upon the ground on each side of
it, and this double scrutiny caused him to ride more slowly.

On both sides were cattle-tracks. These were, no doubt, made by the