d
boldly forward to the great gate of the Presidio. The dog Cibolo
followed, keeping close up to the heels of his horse.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

"By the Virgin, it _is_ he!" exclaimed Roblado, with a look of
astonishment and alarm. "The fellow himself, as I live!"

"I knew it!--I knew it!" shrieked Vizcarra. "I saw him on the cliff: it
was no vision!"

"Where can he have come from? In the name of all the saints, where has
the fellow--"

"Roblado, I must go below! I must go in, I will not stay to meet him!
I _cannot_!"

"Nay, colonel, better let him speak with us. He has seen and recognised
you already. If you appear to shun him, it will arouse suspicion. He
has come to ask our help to pursue the Indians; and that's his errand, I
warrant you!"

"Do you think so?" inquired Vizcarra, partially recovering his
self-possession at this conjecture.

"No doubt of it! What else? He can have no suspicion of the truth.
How is it possible he could, unless he were a witch, like his mother?
Stay where you are, and let us hear what he has got to say. Of course,
you can talk to him from the azotea, while he remains below. If he show
any signs of being insolent, as he has already been to both of us, let
us have him arrested, and cooled a few hours in the calabozo. I hope
the fellow will give us an excuse for it, for I haven't forgotten his
impudence at the fiesta."

"You are right, Roblado; I shall stay and heur him. It will be better,
I think, and will allay any suspicion. But, as you say, he can have
none!"

"On the contrary, by your giving him the aid he is about to ask you for,
you may put him entirely off the scent--make him your friend, in fact.
Ha! ha!"

The idea was plausible, and pleased Vizcarra. He at once determined to
act upon it.

This conversation had been hurriedly carried on, and lasted but a few
moments--from the time the approaching horseman had been first seen,
until he drew up under the wall.

For the last two hundred yards he had ridden slowly, and with an air of
apparent respect--as though he feared it might be deemed rude to
approach the place of power by any swaggering exhibition of
horsemanship. On his fine features traces of grief might be observed,
but not one sign of the feeling that was at that moment uppermost in his
heart.

As he drew near, he raised his sombrero in a respectful salute to the
two officers, whose heads and shoulders were just visible over the
parap