t is certain; and we fear
they have murdered him, as they have done so many other unfortunates."

In vain I tried to draw more information from the poor woman, who
showed, by her sorrow, the affection she felt for the worthy padre. We
also made inquiries at other cottages in the neighbourhood, but received
only the same answer.

"Has no one been into the house?" I asked at length. "Perhaps they are
there. They may, alas! have been murdered."

We rode back, and after searching round I found a window open. Gerald
and Tim scrambled in, and I waited, expecting to have my worst
anticipations confirmed. I was indeed relieved when they came back
saying that they could find no one. There was still some hope that the
padre might be alive; though had he been carried off by the Spaniards,
his fate might be that of many others.

As we could not longer delay, we set off, in order to reach the house of
a native acquaintance of Gerald's before dark. He was a great
sportsman, Gerald told us; and having had several encounters with
jaguars and pumas, he would be delighted to recount his adventures.

The house was situated some way up the mountains on the right. To reach
it we had frequently to get off our horses and lead them along the
rugged path. Our friend's abode was not a grand one; it consisted but
of one room, which was ornamented with his trophies of the chase. He
maintained himself chiefly by keeping a large flock of goats, which
lived secure from jaguars and pumas among the rugged rocks. The savage
animals sometimes came, however, to try and catch them, but generally
paid the penalty of their audacity with their lives. He gave us a kid
for supper, and told us some wonderful stories. Even lately, a jaguar,
which was crouching behind a rock, suddenly sprang out on him, and
seized him by the arm. With his knife he attempted to strike the brute,
when they both rolled over the precipice, and he lost all consciousness.
On recovering, the jaguar was gone; but there were marks of blood,
which showed that it must have been severely wounded.

I did not fail to mention Padre Pacheco's absence, and asked if he could
divine what had become of him.

"I do not think the Gothos have got him," he answered; "for, to say the
truth, I gave him information that they were coming, and, as the padre
is a wise man, he would not have waited for their visit. Where he has
gone I cannot tell."

I was somewhat relieved by this infor