on the tiles, and the next
moment the other sprang from the cloud evidently unhurt.

It was the cibolero who came forth; and his knife, still in his grasp,
was reeking with blood!

He rushed forward towards the spot where he had parted with the
Comandante, but the latter was gone! He was some distance off on the
azotea, and running towards the private stairway.

Carlos saw at a glance he could not overtake him before he should reach
the escalera, and make his descent; and to follow him below would now be
useless, for the shot had given the alarm.

There was a moment of despair,--a short moment; for in the next a bright
thought rushed into the mind of the cibolero--he remembered his rifle.
There might be still time to overtake the Comandante with that.

He seized the weapon, and, springing beyond the circle of smoke, raised
it to his shoulder.

Vizcarra had reached the stairway, and was already sinking into its
trap-like entrance. His head and shoulders alone appeared above the
line of wall, when some half-involuntary thought induced him to stop and
look back. The coward had partly got over his fright now that he had
arrived within reach of succour, and he glanced back from a feeling of
curiosity, to see if the struggle between Garcia and the cibolero was
yet over. He meant to stop only for an instant, but just as he turned
his head the rifle cracked, and the bullet sent him tumbling to the
bottom of the escalera!

The cibolero saw that his shot had taken effect--he saw, moreover, that
the other was dead--he heard the wild shouts of vengeance from below;
and he knew that unless he could escape by flight he would be surrounded
and pierced by an hundred lances.

His first thought was to descend by the escalera, up which he had come.
The other way only led into the patio, already filling with men. He
leaped over the body of Garcia, and ran toward the stairway.

A crowd of armed men was coming up. His escape was cut off!

Again he crossed the dead body, and, running along the azotea, sprang
upon the outer parapet and looked below.

It was a fearful leap to take, but there was no other hope of escaping.
Several lancers had reached the roof, and were charging forward with
their pointed weapons. Already carbines were ringing, and bullets
whistling about his ears. It was no time to hesitate. His eye fell
upon his brave horse, as he stood proudly curving his neck and champing
the bit, "Thank Heaven, he is y