nimals were by this time somewhat jaded. On they moved, still keeping
the trail, and still heading straight for the town!

At length they reached a point where a road from the upper plain led by
a zigzag path to the valley below. It was the same by which Carlos had
ascended to perform his great feat on the day of the fiesta. At the top
of the descent Carlos ordered the party to halt, and with Don Juan rode
forward to the edge of the projecting cliff--at the very spot where he
had exhibited his skill--the cliff of _Nina Perdida_.

Both drew up when near the edge. They commanded a full view of the
valley and the town.

"Do you see that building?" inquired the cibolero, pointing to the
detached pile which lay between them and the town.

"The Presidio?"

"The Presidio."

"Yes--what of it?"

"_She is there_!"

CHAPTER THIRTY.

At that moment upon the _azotea_ a man was pacing to and fro. He was
not a sentinel, though at opposite angles of the building two of these
could be seen who carried carbines--their heads and shoulders just
appearing above the crenated top of the battlement towers.

The man _en promenade_ was an officer, and the part of the azotea _upon_
which he moved was the roof of the officers' quarter, separated from the
rest by a wall of equal height with the parapet. It was, moreover, a
sacred precinct--not to be disturbed by the tread of common troopers on
ordinary occasions. It was the "quarterdeck" of the Presidio.

The officer was in full dress, though not on any duty; but a single
glance at the style and cut of his uniform would convince any one that
he was a "dandy soldier," and loved to appear at all times in fine
feathers. The gold-lace and bright-coloured broad-cloth seemed to
affect him as his rich plumage does the peacock. Every now and again he
paused in his promenade, glanced down at his lacquered boots, examined
the tournure of his limbs, or feasted his eyes upon the jewels that
studded his delicate white fingers.

He was no beauty withal nor hero either; but that did not prevent him
from indulging in the fancy that he was both--a combination of Mars and
Apollo.

He was a colonel in the Spanish army, however, and Comandante of the
Presidio--for the promenader in question was Vizcarra himself.

Though satisfied with his own appearance, he was evidently not satisfied
about something else. There was a cloud upon his features that not even
the contemplation of the lacque