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VOL  Null-11 3- No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. ’ Flve’égfll. NO- 89'

 

 

 

 

GASPAR, THE GAUGH‘]; or, Lost on the Pampas.

 

A TALE OF THE GRAN CI—IACO.

BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID,

AUTHOR m:- “ THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN,” “THE DEATH-SHOT," “THE OCEAN HUXTERS,” Era, ETC.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO SLOW "RAVELERH. “'ATCI’IING AND WAITING.

 

  

2

 

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

 

 

Capt. Mayne ReiiiBest Boys’ Story.
, Gaspar, the Gaucho;

LOST ON THE PAMPAS.

a mm on THE GRAN cnaco.

BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID,

AUTHOR or “run nunnnuss Hons-mus," “was nor
Humans,” “ma SOALP-Eumns," “AFLOAT
IN THE nonusr," ETC., ETC.

' , CHAPTER I.
‘ , “ EL GRAN ounce."

8mm before you a map of South America. Fix
m' e on the confluence of the two great rivers:
he so ado running south-easterly from the Andes
mountains, and the Parent: coming down from the
north; carry it up the former till it strikes the town
of Saita in the ancient province of Tucuman; then
along the latter and its direct tributary, the Para-
guay, to the Brazilian fort of Coimbra: join the two

 

points by a slightly curved line, its convex toward
/

he great Cordillera of the Andes: and you will have
traced a boundary embracing one of the least known
and tiyet most interestin tracts of country on the
con nent of America. ithin these limits lies a re-
gion, romantic in its past as mysterious in its pres-
ent; unknown to civilization as when the boats of
Mendoza. vainly endeavored to reach it from the
south, and the disappointed gold-seekers of Cuzco
mainly hitcmpted its loration from the west.

Itisthe region 0 “E Gran Chaco."

No doubtyou have heard the name, and, if a stu-
dent of geographg, know something of the territory
so designated. ut our knowie go of the Gran
Chaco must needs be imited, even though you know
as much of it as those who dwell upon its borders.
Whatever of acquaintance they may have with it,
brings them but suffering and sorrow.

You have grown up in the belief that the people

_ x of Spanish blood, in their day of grandeur and glory

subdued the whole continent of America—or tha
portion of it they pretended to colonize, and which
still partially submits to their sway.

This is a historical misconception. Although,
guided by the thirst for gold, and under the aegis
(of strong military expeditions, the Con ulstadores
overrun a large portion of the territory 0 both sec-
tions, there were yet extensive tracts of each never

much less colonized by them—districts in
which hey scarce dared to set foot. Of such a
character was Navajoa in the north the country of
the email-cs in the center, the inn of Patagonia
and tremolo the south
 country lying. between the Oordilieras
the Peruvian Andes and the waters of Paraguay
'.' Gran Checo
‘5 ‘mmed territory large enough to form
‘ tho“ of an empire, remains to this hour not oni
. (Lbut positively unexplored. For the he] -
 sfipeditions, timidly attempted and
hastily ahan one , do not merit the name of ex-

plore n.

1 No more the feeble efforts of the fathers, Jesuit
or Franciscan. he savages of Gran Chaco have
refused submission, alike to the cross as to the

sword. v ~
But why the present neglect of this singular terri-
tbryl’ Is it a sterile waste, like most rts of

Apocheria. and the country of the Comanc es; like
tho kins cfPs onia,and t a sierras of Arauco?

Org a humid, mpervious crest, in places peri-

, odl inundated, as the vast vaneyof the Amazon
asthma! the Orinoco? -

, Neither one nor the other. On the contrary, the
terrain of the Gran Cbaco presents every feature to
attract combination: vast natural clearings green

I withoutritious grasses; groves of tropical trees in

' which the aim predominates; a climate of unques-
tionedsaiu rity; and a soil capable‘of yielding ev-

requioito for the sustenance, as for the luxury

‘ 0 lie. In short, it maybe likened to a ark, or
andhndscape garden, still under the on lure of

And why not submitted to the tillage of man.’
v ”mweriseasy:‘ because he who hoidsit is a
9 h ”, and not an agricultural. ~

It isstill in ossession of its red-skinned owners—-
the original ords of its sex—a race.of warlike In-
diana, who have hitherto do ed all attempts to en-
slave themowhethermade bysoidier or minor,

or and'uco!

These independent savages. mounted u n fleet
horses. which they menu 6 with the ski] of Gen
tours. scour the plains of he Chaco with the swift-
ness of birds upon the wing. Dlsdaining fixed resi-
dences they room over ts verdant meads, and
throw; h ’ oves, as the has from flower
to 11 r; pitahin t eir tents where some sweet

v

’, spot may tempt t om. Savages though they are

e called, who would not envy them such a charming
imam:th existence? Do not cu?
I anticipate your answer: “ es."
Let us enter the “ Gran Chaco,"and partake of itl

*The Mamelukes of South America are a in
of mixed race, Portuguese, African and Ind an
hi0 ‘ having their head-quarters in San Paulo.
Brazi . They were the most noted slave—hunters of
the Southern continent, and their history is but a.
record ‘of cruelty and blood.

 

m the roof 9. thatch of the

: as also avast expanse of.

 

CHAPTER II.

. mailman murmur.

Nomnnsrmnmo what I have said of the Ohaco
remaining uncolonized and unexplored, I can tell of
an exception. In the ear 1836, one ascending the
Piicomayo to a oint a ut a hundred miles from
its mouth, we (1 there see a house, which could
have been built only by a white man, or one verSed
1n the ways of civilization. Not that there was any-
thing very imposing in its architecture; for it was
but a wooden structure. the walls of bamboo, and
aim called cuber/o—so
named from the use made 0 its fronds, in covering
sheds and houses. But the superior size of this
dwelling, far exceeding that of the simple tallies of
the Chaco Indians; its ample veranda piiiared and
shaded by a rotecting roof of the same )alm
leaves: and a ove all, several well-fenced inclo-
sures arounc it, one of them containing a number of
tame cattle, others under tillage — with maize,
manicc, the plantain, and similar tropical roducts
——ail these insignia evinced the care and cu tivating
hand of some one else than an aboriginal.

Entering the house, still further evidence of the
white man‘s presence would be observed. Furni-
turc, apparently home-made, yet neat, pretty and
suitable; chairs and settees of the South American
bamboo; besteads of the same, with beds of the
elastic Spanish moss, and [)(mchos for coveriets; mats
woven from fibers of another species of palm, with
here and there a swung hammock. In addition,
some books and pictures that appeared to have been
painted on the spot; a bound volume of music. with
a. violin and guitar—ail speaking of a. domestic
economy unknown to the American Indian.

In some of the rooms, as also in the outside ve-
randa, could be noticed objects e ualiy unlike
the belongings of the aboriginal: stu ed skins of,
wild beasts and birds; insects impaled on strips or
palm bark; moths, butterflies, and brilliant scara-

iei; reptiles preserved in all their repulsive ugliness.
with s ecimens of ornamental woods, plants and
miners. s; a singular paraphernalia. evidently the
product of the region around. Such a collection
could only belong to a naturalist, and that naturalist
could be no other than a white man. He was; his
name was Ludwig Haiberger.

To explain how Ludwi, Hulber er came to be
domiciled there, so far rom civiization, and so
hi h up the Piicomayo, it is necessary to ive some
do ails of his life antecedent to the time 0 his hav-
ing established this solitary Minnelli. To do so a
name of evil augur and ill repute must needs be
introduced—that 0 Dr; Francis, Dictator of Para-
guay, who for more than a quarter of a century
ruled that fair land verily with a rod of iron.

Halberger had resided in Para ay nine years and
more. Lover of Nature thong he was, and ad-
dicted to the chase, another kind of love found its
way to his heart, making himself a captive. The
dark eyes of a Paraguayan girl penetrated his
breast, seeming brighter to him than the plumage
of the audiest birds, or the wings of the most
beautifu butterflies.

“ El Griiero," the biondo—as these swarthy com-
plexioned eoplo were wont to call the Teutonic
stranger— ound favor in the eyes of the tyoung
Paraguayense. who, reciprocating his bones love,
consented to become his wife.

For nigh ten years Halberger lived happily: all
the happ or that in due time a son and daughter—
the former resembling himself, the latter a. ver
image of her mother—enlivened their home wit
sweet infantile prattie. And as the years rolled by,
a third , oungster came to form part of the fam' y
circle—t is neither son nor daughter, but an orphan
child of the Senors‘s sister accused. A boy he
was, b name 0 priano.

The omeoft ehunter-naturalist wasnot luAsun-
cion, but some twenty miles outin e “compo.”
He rarely visited the capital, exce t on matters of
business. For a business he had; his of somewhat
unusual character. It consisted chiefly in the pro.
duce of his gun and insectnet. Many a rare speci-
men ofbird and quadruped,butterfl and eetle,oa
tuned and preserved by Ludwig albei- er, at th a
dag adorns the public museums of Prussxa and
0t er European countries. 1

Beginning life in South America with moderate
means,the Prussian naturalist prospe . So
much, as to have a handsome house. with a tract of
land attached, and a fair retinne of servants; these
last, all “Guanos,” a tribe of Indians long since
tamed and domesticated. He had been fortunate
also, in securin theservices of a gauche, named
Gaspar, a fait ul fellow, skilled in many ceilings,
who acted as his mag/arv-domo and man of confidence.

In truth, was Ludwig Halberzer in the enjoyment
of a happy existence, and eminentlylfrosperous,
when a c oud overshadowed his life. is Wife was
still beautiful so much as to attract the notice 01‘.
Paraguay’s ictator. And with Dr. Francis to
covet was to possess, where the thing coveted be-
longed to any of his own subjects. Aware of this,
warned also of Fruncin‘s partiality by frequent
visits with which the latlcr now deigned to honor
him, Ludwig Hulberger saw there was no chance
to escape domestic ruin, but by getting clear out of
the country.

For atime he was kept lg a state of doubt and
chilling des air. At lengt , however, a thought
came to rel eve him—a p an of flight which prom-
ised to have a successful issue. He would flee into
the Chaco.

Ludwig Halberger had no fear of crossing over to
the Chaco side, nor penetrating into its interior. fie
had often gone thither on botanizing and huniang
expeditious. But for this apparent recklessness he
had a reason, which must needs here be given. Be-
tween the Cbaco savages and the Paraguayan peo-

 

ple there had been intervals of peace—tiempa: de paz
—during which occurred amicable intercourse; the
Indians rowing,r over the river and entering the town
to traflle off their skins, ostrich feathers, and other
commodities. On one of these occasions the head
chief of the Tovas tribe, by name Naraguana, hav-
ing imbibed too ireer of guarapé, and in some way
got Separated from his people, became the butt of
some Paraguayan boys, who were behaving toward
him just as the idle lads of London or the gamins oi?
Paris would to one appearing intoxicated in the
streets. The Prussian naturalist chanced to be
passing at the time; and seeing the Indian, an aged
man, thus insulted, took pity upon and rescued him
from his tormentors.

Recovering from his debauch, and conscious of
the service the stran er had done him, the Tovas
chief swore eternal f endshi to his enerous ro-
tnctor, at the same time pro ering h the ” ree-
“id 3‘ they???” 1 ~ N ' l r

u w: a er er, re ying on araguanas pro -
fared fnindshideetermined upon retrea into
this (ghaco, and claiming the protection of the ovas
C 18 .

Luckily. his house was not a great we from the
river’s bank, and in the dead hour of a ark night,
accompanied by wife and childrenatakmg aion
also his Guano servants, with such of his househol
effects as could be conveniently carried, the faith
fui Gaspar guidin and managing it ail—he was
rowed across the araguay and up the Pilcomayo.
He had been told that at some thirty leagues from
the mouth of the latter stream, was the loldem'a of
the Tovas Indians. And truly told; since before
sunset of the second day he succeeded in reaching
it, there to be received amicably, as he had antiox-
pated. Not only did Naraguana give him a. warm
welcome, but assistance in the .erection of his
dwelling; afterward stocking in: atomic with
horses and cattle caught on the surrounding plains.
These tamed and domesticated, With their progeny,
are what any one would have seen in his corrala n
the year 1836, at the time the action of our in]? mm-
mences.

 

CHAPTER III.
onsmn, THE GAUOEO.

OVER the broad undulating lain, which extends
between Halber er‘s house an the deserted wide/via
of the Tovas. a orseman is seen proceeding in the
direction of the latter. He is a man about middle
age, of hale, active appearance, in no way past his
prime. Of medium size, or rather above it, his
figure, though robust, is well proportioned, with
strong sinewy arms and limbs hthe as a panther‘s,
while his countenance, notwithstanding the some-
what embrowned skin, has a pleasant, honest ex-
pression, evin cod nature as a habitually
amiable temper, a t esame time that his features
show firmness and decision. A keenly glancing eye,
coal-black, bes oaks for him both cour e_ and in-
telligence; wh e the way in which hearts horse,
tells that he is not new to the saddle; instead, seem-
ing part of it. His arb is ar, though not. to
the country which c aims him as a native. Draping
down from his shoulders and spreadin over the
hips of his horse is a garment of woo en fabric,
woven in stripes of gaudy colors, alternating white,
yellow and red, of no fit or fashion, but simply ke t
on by having his head thrust through a. sit in
center. It is a alto—the universal wrap or cloak
of every one w o dwells upon the banks of the La.
Plata or Parann. Under is another final-meat, of
white cotton stuff, somewhat resemb g Zouave
brooches, and called calzomras. these reaching a
little below his knees; while his feet and ankles are
incased in boots of his own manufacture, seamless,
since each was originally the. skin of a horse 3 leg.
the hoof serving as heel, with the shank shortened
and athered into a pucker for the toe. Tanned
and bleached to the whiteness of awedding-glove,
With some ornamental stitching and broidery, 1t fur-
nishes a footage”, alike comfortable and becoming.
Spurs, with and rowels, several inches in diame-
ter. attach to the heels of these horse—hide boots.
give them some resemblance to the greaves and
ankle-armor of mediceval days.

All this has he whose dress we are describing;
while surmounting his head is a. broad-bummed hat,
with high-peaked crown and. plume of rhea: feathers
~undemeath all, a kerchief of gaudy color, which.
drapin down over the nape of his neckrprotects it
from t e fervid rays of the Chaco sun. t is 3 cos-
turns. imposing and picturesque; while the ca an-
son of his horse is in keeping with it. The sa_dle,
called revado,is furnished with several coverings
one upon another, the topmost, Willa, being of

bright—colored cloth. elaborately quilted; while the '

bridle, of plaitod horse-hair, is studded with silver
joints, from which d and rings and tassais, the
same ornamenting the mast-piece and neck straps
attaching the martingale; in short, the complete
equipment of a gauche. And a gauche he is—Gas-
par, the hero of our tale. .
It has been already said, that he is in the SerVice
of Ludwi Haiberger. So is he and has been ever
since the unter-naturalist sett in Para ay; in
the capacity of steward, or, as there 'caile , mayor-
domo; a term of very different 81 iflcntion from
the mam-dome, or housesteward. 0 European coun-
tries, with dress and duties diiferiug as well. _No
black coat or white cravat, wears he of Spanish
America; nos otless stockings, orsoft all per shoes.
Instead, a co ume more rescinan the of a cave-
lier, or freebooter: while the Ser cos he is called
u n to perform require him to be not only a first-
cggs horseman, but able to throw the lazo, catch a
wild cow or coil, and tame the latter—in short, take
a hand at anything. And at almost anything Gas-

 

 

 

   

 

 

 No better man in all the

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

3

 

 

par can, for he is man-ot-all—work to the hunter-
naturalist. as well as his man of confidence.

Why islhe riding away from the estancie at such
an hour—for it is afternoon? On that same day
Halber er and his daughter had started off to visit
the In 'an village; and as the had not returned
soon as promised, the anxiet o the wife, rendered
keen by a presenriment whi ' had oppressed her at
their part , became at len th unbearable; and
to relieve iltfilfiaspar has been spatched in quest of
them. -
ampas region, or South
America. itself could have con sent on such an er—
rand. His skillas a tracker is not excelled by any
other gauche in the Argentine States, from which he
originally came; while in general intelligence, com-
bined with courage, no one there, or elsewhere,
could well behis superior. As the senora said her
last words to him at parting, and listened to his in
return, she felt reassured. Gaspar was not the man
to make delay, or come back Without the missing
one. On this day, however, he deviates from his
usual habit, at the same time from the route he
ought to take—that leading direct to the Indian vil-
lage, whither he knows his master and young mis-
tress to have gone. For, while riding along, going
at a gentle canter,-a cock "ostrich ” starts up be—
fore his horse, and soon after, the hen, the two
trotting away over the plain to one side. It so
chances that but_the day before his master had
given him instructions to catch a male ostrich for
some purpose of natural history—the first he should
come across. And here was one a splendid bird in
full flowing plum c. This, th an observe on
made, that the 0st ches seem less shy than is usual
with these wary creatures, and are movx away
but slowly, decides him to take after and ave a
try at capturing the cock. Unloosin his bolas from
the sadd ecbow, where he habitua y carries this
weapon, and spurring his horse to a gallop, of! after
them he goes.

Magnificently mounted, for _a gauche would not be
otherwise, he succeeds in his intent, after a run of a
mile or so, getting close enou h to the birds to
operate upon them with his to as. Winding these
around his head and launching them, he has the sat-
isfaction of seeingatho cock ostrich go down u on
the grass, its legs pped together tight, as it he
har spliced them.

Riding on up to the great bird, new hoplpled and
without auyc once to get away from him, e makes
things more sure by drawing out his knife and cut-
ting the creature's hroat. hen releasing tbebolaa
he returns them to the place from which he had
taken them—on the horn of his recado. This done,

he stands over the dead rhea, thus reflec  _ '
“ I wonder what particular part of this ’—

it is a beauty, by the way, and I don’t tomato 1‘
ever having met with a finer bird of the breed—but
if I only knw which one of its identical sthe’
master wants, it would save me some trou la in the
way of packing and to horse no little of a. load.

Just possible the dune duly cares for the tail.

feathers, or the head and beak or it maybe but the
legs. Well, as 'I can’t tell which, there’s but one
way to males _ about it—that is, to take the en-
tire carcass' ow withme. ' , nit must." .

Saying tmhe e heldot a and drawsthe
ostrich neonate his Mme,which

    

the time stands
'tranqnilly by; for or I m : s I. is trained to
kgetp its place, without .. a or anyone having care
0 l.  - . ~

“ Gamma!” he exclaimgmmng the bird Mm
the ground, “what a weight theng Heavy as
a quarter of beef! Now think with , mm“,
been betterfl I’d let the beast ' m3; ' on

‘ without getting m if into 4,3
I’m sure it would ve been wiser.

'm .1
sefiora say whenehe knows of my thus-Wu _.
trifling with. , mmonds she gave met Ba 1 s e

film; about i 1. She

  

won’t know an ’ t-“nd mean,

will. thongu,,ir stand dallying here. 1 mustn’t 'a

minute longer. 80 - up, Senor Avertruz, and lie
ere. ' i -

At which, he hoists the which—by the gauchos
called “atm“~to the croup ,0 his
where after ampld manipulation of cords. the
is made fast, beyond all danger or dro

This done, be up 11
looks out to see whic direction he should now take.
A thing not so easdy determined; for in the chase
after i 1 “19 05911011 had made more than one
double; and. altholllzhfiolerably familiar with the
topographyof that plain, the gauche is for the time
mo little confused as to his whereabouts. Nor
strange he should be; Since the palm groves scat-
torrid over it are all so, much alike, and there is no
high hill, nor any great eminence, to guide him,
Ridges there are. running' this way and that; but all
only gentle undulations, with no bold projection, or
other landmark that he can remember.

He begins to think he is really strayed, lost; and
behaving so, is angry with himselg for having turne
out of his path—~85 the path of his duty. Angry at
the ostrich, too, that term ted him.

“Azwrnuz, maldofo!" e exclaims terms in the
gauche vernacular synonymous wit “ostrich be

anged," adding, as he continues to gaze hopelessly
around “I wish I'd let the long-legged brute goits
way. ike as not, it’ll hinder me going mine, till
too late. And it so, there'll be a retty tale to tell!
Stmflseima! whatever am I to o? I don’t even
know the way back to the house; though that
wouldn’t be any good if I did. Idareu’t go there
without taking some news with me. Well; there’s
only one thing I can do; ride about, and uarter the
pammtill I see something that'll set me k upon
m r ‘

{n conformity with this intention, he once more
puts his horse in motion and strikes on: over the

recado '"

01!. _
pon his horse's back, then

plain; but he does not a altogether without a
guide, the sun somewhat ellflng him. He knows
that his way to the Indian vi go is westvvard, and
as the bright luminary is now beginning to descend,
it points out that direction, so taking his bearings
by it, he rides on. Not far, however, before catc ~
ing si ht of another object, which enables him to
steer Is course with greater precision. This is a
tree, a grand vegetable giant of the species called
om/lu, known to every gauche—beloved, almost held
sacred by him as affording shade to his sun~exposed
and solitary dwelling. The one Gaspar now sees
has no house under its widespread branches; but
he has himself been under them more than once
while out on a hunt, and smoked his cigmvrito in
their shade. As his eye lights upon it, a satisfied
expression comes over his features, for he knows
that the tree is on the top of a little lama, or hill,
about half-way between the estancia and the Indian
town, and nearly in the direct route.

He needs nothing more to guide him now; but in-
stead of riding toward the tree, be rather turns his
back upon it, and starts off in a different direction.
This because he had already passed the ombu before
coming across the ostrich.

Soon a sin he is back upon the path from which
he had s rayed, and proceeds along it without fur~
ther interruption, riding at a rapid pace to make up
for the lost time.

Still, he is far from being satisfied with himself.
Although he may have done that which will be
gratifying to his master, there is a possibility of its

ispleasm his mistress. Most certainly will it do
this, shou d he not find the missing ones, and have
to 0 home without them. But he has no great fear
of hat; indeed, is not even uneasy. Why should he
be? He knows his master’s proclivities, and be—
lieves that he has come across some curious and
rare specimens, which take time to collect or ex-
amine, and this it is which has been retarding his
return. Thus reflecting, he continues on, every mo-
ment expecting to meet them. But as there is
neither read her an regular path between the two
places, he needs to cop scanning the plain, lest on
their return he may pass them unobserved.

But he sees nothing of them till reaching the tol-
deria, and there on] the hoof-marks of his master‘s
horse, with those 0 his young mistress‘s pony, both
conspicuous in the dustacovered ground by the doors
of the taldoa. But en neither does he dwell, for he
too, aswere the others, is greatly surprised to fin
the gwo’dcoertcde—indeed alarmed, and for a time
sits  aeone haudaaed.

Only a. short}? lie, for he is not the man to give
way to 105sz irresolution, and recovering himself, he
rides am y about, from taldo to Zelda, all over the
town, at the same time shouting and calling out his
master's name. - V

For answer, he only has the echoes of his own
voice, now and then varied with the howl of a wolf,
which, prowli’ around like himself, no doubt wen-
de‘rs as he at t_ eplace bein abandoned.

After ahumed examinat on of the houses, and
seeing there is no one within them, just as Hal-
ber’ger had done, he strikes on on the trail of the de-
parted inhabitants; and with the sun still high en-
ough taught up ever track on it he perceives those
made I) o dumio’s orse, and the more diminutive
hoofrzrhne alon i .

e do

On‘ a goes lolfowing them up and in a gallop, for
they are so fresh andelear he has no need to ride
slowly. On in the same gait tor a stretch of ten
miles, which bringsh‘imato the tributary stream at
the creasing-place. He rides down to the water‘s
6639, there to be not ed at what he sees—
fime scores of, other arse-tracks recently made,
t ‘ hither and thither in crowded confusion.
It calls or all his skill as a rastrero, with some
considerable time. to unwind the tangled skein.
But he at length succeeds, so far as to discover that
the whole horse troop, to whomsoever belonging,
have recrossed the ford; and crossing it himself, he
sees they have gone back up the Pilcornayo river.
Among them is one showing 'a shod hoof; but he
knows that has not been made by his master‘s
horse, the but being larger and broader, with the
Fclaw more decipiy inden ed. Besides, he sees not
the ony’s tra s—though the are or were there——
and vo been trodden out by t e ruck of the other
annuals trampling after. ' ,
The gauche here turns back; though he intends
followmg the trail furth or. when he has made a more
careful examination of the sign on the other side
of the stream; and recrossing, he again sets to scru—
tnuzmg it. This soon leads him to the place where
Halberger entered the sumac grove. Now the
gauche, entering it also, and following the 5102 along
the trrpzr path, at a distance of seine three hundred
yards from the crossing, comes out into an open
glade, lit up by the last rays of the setting sun,
which fall slantingl through the trees standing
around. There a Sig t meets his eye, causing the
blood at one moment to run cold through his veins,
in the next hot as. boilin lava: While from his
lips issue exclamatmns o mingled astonishment
and indignation. What he sees is aherse, saddled
and with the bridle also on, standing with neck bent
down, and head drooped till the nostrils almost
touch the earth. But between them and the ound
isa figure extended at full stretch; the ha y of a
man to all appearance dead; which at a glance the

gauche knows to be that of his master!

CHAPTER IV.
A somrlnv nsunou.
Tnnmn reat rivers—Saladmvermeio, and Pilco—
m o—-in ersect the Gran Chaos. Al rise in the
An es mountains, and after rennin south-easterlyi

 

 

distances into the Parana and Paraguay.

, _

‘ .

and in a nearly parallel direction, ebouch at aqua '

 

h the known mouth of the Piloomayo is
almost Within gunshot of the capital of Paraguay——
the oldest settlement of the Spaniards in this part
of South America—no Par uayan ever thinks_ of
attempting its ascent; and t e peoplept‘ Asuncion
are as ignorant of the land lyi along its shores as
on the ay when Azure. paddle his p/riagua some
forty miles against its obstructive current.

No scheme of colonization has ever been at- .
tempted upon the Pilcomayo, except far up toward
its source. In the Chaco, no white man's town has
ever stood upon its shores, no church—spire flung
shadow athwart its unfurrowed waves.

And yet, in the year of our Lord 18—, any one who
should have ascended this mysterious river, some
ten miles above the point reached by the Spanish
naturalist, would have seen a house standing upon
a bold projection of its bank, that could have been
built only by awhite man, or one versed in the ways
of civilization.

If there can be any doubt as to who are the deni~‘
zens of this solitary dwellin , it will be set at rest by
the sight of three individua s, who, issuing from the
interior, take stand on the iazza in front. One is a
woman, of line matronly orm, and age not over
thirtsy. While her complexion shows the plive tint of
the panish-merisco rare, her blood isev1dently pure
Caucasian. She has seen, and still is, a beautiful
woman; though she carries the subdued look of one
who has known trouble or anxiety. Something of
the last seems to be upon her now; for her brow is
clouded, as she steps forward to the outside railing
of the veranda, and stands gazing wistfuliy over the
plain that trends far away beyond the inc osures of
the dwelling.

The other two are youths, nearl alike in age, and
both in the advanced years of boy ood. In size they
are somewhat difierent, as also in complexion. The
taller one is of slender make, with a skin that would
be blonde, but for a surface tint resembling sun tan.
Hair of light color, falling in curl over his cheeks.
proclaims descent from some northem race, con-
firmed b the Teutonic cast of his countenance.

The ot 1er youth, though shorter in stature, is of
more robust make, with a frame knitted [or strength,
activit and endurance. .His com lexion is almost
as dar as that or an Indian: wh e his thick black
hair gives out under the sunlight a. urplish irides—
cence as seen on a raven’s throat. or all this, he
is of white blood——such white as is claimed by most
Spanish Americans—«still more doubtfully by "Para.-

gua ans. ,

The dark youth is a Paraguayan; and soalsois he
of lighter hue; and so, too, is the lady~like woman,
Wh0_'lS mother or the one and aunt to the other.

It is the fair-haired youth who calls her “ mother "’
stran e, too, considering her dark complexion. l
woul be explained it you could look upon his
father. who is not at home. It is the absence o1 her
husband that has brought that cloud upon the lady’s
brow—his, and another’s, who is alon with him,
and who is e uall an object of solicitu e. ,

Who the ot er s will be gathered from the con-
versation that follows: , r

” Ay de mi f" exclaims the lady, with her eye still
fixed upon the plain, “ what can be detaining them?
This sus ense is very painful." _

“Don let it pain you mammal I’m sum, they
will soon be here. Papa has found something that
keeps him. He may have stayed to skin an animal,
too heavy to be carried home; or something may
have temptedhim to go a greater distance than he
intended? ’ ;, , .

It was the son who thus endeavored to cheer her.

“ No, no, Ludwig, ” replied the gdy, “ that cannot
be the cause. Ha your papa b n alone—but not
with Francesca. I You know your little sister is not
used to distant excursions, and it’s not likely he
would take her a long way. I cannot think of what
it is—unless——the have got lost in the Chem." 1

“ Well, Gas 0 has now gone them. He
knows every inch 01 the country for fifty miles

Althoug

around; and he’s one of the best trackers in all 4 ,

South America. Ii! they‘re only straying like
at upon their traces, and bring them. bac .

e gauche for that.’ .

“A , it they’re only straying. Mndre depict! it
may be worse." V
“How worse, tia i’" demanded the nephew, who,
although he had not before spoken, showed quite as
much anxxety as either of the others. ' ‘ '
h “Ah ! how worse, mammal” asked simultaneously

er son.

“ You forget, my children, that our, rotectors are ,‘
no longer in the neighborhood—that araguana and .
his tribe have left their old Laldem’u“ and moved « ll?
into the interior. Even your father does not know
where they are gone.”

“That is true,“st the dark-haired youth. “I
heard uncle asking Gas ardo about it; and the
gauche could not tell. omewhere higher up the
river, he thought."

“But it don’t matter, momma,” said Ludwig, cn‘
couragingly; ”. I'm sure there can be no danger” ,
Ludwig pronounced these words without feeling
faith in them. He knew, what did also the others,
that besides the friendly tribe of Narag'usna, the
Tovas~frieudly only to them—there were several
other bands who roamed over that portion oi? the,
Chaco—Jlbaz/as, Guaypurus, and Anguété—ali deadly

enemies to any one With a. white skin.
thHe only spoke to relieve the anxiety of his mo-

er. .

His words were unavailing; for thehmn sunk be
low the wide western plain, and he who had gone
out at its rising—taking with him his only dang ter,

"A collection at foldoa or huts. The villages of
the Chaco Indians are so designated, as also their
more temporary encampments. \ * '

’11 soon
Trust

  

4

 

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

 

 

agirl of about twelve ears of age—came not back;
neither he nor his chilth

And Gaspar, sent out after them at a late hour of
the afternoon—neither had he returned.

“Mudre do Dias!" again. and a ain, exclaimed
the anxious wife and mother, “w at can be the
cause of their detention?"

And after the moon rose, and all night long, now
and then kneeling before a picture of the Virgin,
she kept repeating this uestion, mingling with it
earnest supplications tot e mother of God.

That night there was no sleep in the house of the
absent naturalist. If any, it was enjoyed only by
his 1): 0ns~some Guano Indians,* who gave their ser-
vices to the estancia.

But the mother slept not, nor her son, no more
Cypriano the nephew, who lay awake all night
thinking less about his uncle than his dear cousin
Francesca.

 

CHAPTER V.
THE noseAND’s RETURN.

THE morning sun rose _red and scowling over the
grassy pain a. It rose 1n the east, above the hill
country of araguay, and seemed to carry on its
face the frowns of t e tyrant Francis.

The anxious wife may have thought of this as she
muttered her hast orison. From that quarter had
come the blow the had driven her and her husband
to the Chaco, compelling them to seek a. home under
the rotection of savages. But her eyes were to»
ward) the west—the direction in which her loved ones
{18d gone, and whence she should look for their re-

urn.

An hour passed on, and the sun, mounting higher
into the heavens, illuminated the far plain to the
utmost verge of vision. Still no one appeared upon
it. Now and then an ostrich was seen stalking
through the tall grass, or a deer startled from its
couch by the approach of the spotted jaguar. But

no form having the ap earance of a. human being— .

nothing that resemble a horseman.

In the minds of all three it was no longer suspense
-——no longer anxiety' it had grown to be agony al-
most unendurable. bypriano seemed to sufl'ei'most.
His heart was wrung With the thought of Frances—
ca’s danger.

“ Caramba!" he exclaimed, “ I can stay here no
longer. Nor is it of any use my doing so. on Lud-
wig can remain to take care of aunt. I shall my-
se f’ go in search of thorn."

Neither Ludwig nor his mother made opposition.
What thou h Gaspar had failed to find them? One
more searc er woqu be still another chance, and
Cypriano was well acquainted with the country
around.

“You may go!" said the senora. mechanically
nodding permission. “ And God go with you!" she
added, as the youth hastened out of the veranda.

In ten minutes after he was seen mounted on a
small but fleet steed, galloping westward over the
plain as if his life depended upon the quick accom-
plishment of his errand.

He was soon out of sight; while they whom he
had left behind stood gazing in the direction in which
he had disappeared.

All da long did they remain in the piazza—scarce
glvin t emselves time to take their mid—day meal»—
lslnatc ‘ng only enough to satisfy the cravings of

unger.

And again the sun went down without any one ap—
pearin upon the plain. No form loomed up against
the re sky that hemmed the horizon of the west.

And the moon rose; and still they watched, and
watched.

But their watching seemed to be at length re-
warded. Under the silvery sheen that glistened
white over the surface of the pampa sward, three
dark shapes Were seen a proacliing. They were
the shapes of horses. eac carrying a_ rider upon
fiislback. Two of them were tall, the third of lesser

i it.

shout of joy burst from the lips of Ludwig.
. “ It is they!" cried be. “How strangel” he added,
suddenly checking himself, “there are only three of
them. ’Tis father, Gaspar and Francesuu._ Then
Cypriano must have missed them, and is still con-
tinuing his search."

The conjecture seemed reasonable enough and
yet it did not satisfy the anxious mother. home
strange presentiment, some boding fear, had pos<
session of her heart, restraining the joyful cry about
risingto herli s. _ _ ’

Without ma mg reminder, she stood motionless
as a statue, straining her eyes till they ached.

The three travelers came on over the plain, and up
to the edge of the inclosure. Before they could
reach the gate, she had gone outside to receive them,
followed by her son. '

The moon gleaming down u on their dresses, en-
abled her to make out the we ~known cloak of her
husband, and the picturesque apparel of the gaucho.
And the third, also in male attire? Cy riano!

A scream escape] her. followed by t e words:

“ Where is Francesca?”

No one made refily—ncithei‘ her husband, Gaspar
nor the boy. A three had halted, and sat in
their saddles, as if both they and their horses had
been turned into stone! .

“ \thro is my daughter?" she again exclaimed.
“Husband, why do you not speak? Cyprianol why
are 1 ad silent?” .

“ h, God!” cried Gasparnthe ejaculation resem-

 

*The (Ii/aims are also a Chaco tribe, but alto-
gether unlike the warlike ’I'rivasor (Mag/tritium. They
more resemble the peaceful Aztecs and Pueblos of
Mexico, devoting themselves to industrial pursuits,
and often Laking service with the whites, both Para"
guayans and Corrientines.

flora!”
“Serioml Sirralil Why do you address me
thus? Husband, do you hear him? at is it,

gim‘ido? Why do you hold your head so? Are you
asleep ‘r"

As she spoke, she glided on toward the horseman
who wore the habiiimenls of lzer husband.

As she laid her hand upon his knee, and looked 11
into that face, white and wan under the mystic
shimmering of the moon, she did not need to be told
why his eyes were closed. she saw that it was the
sieve}? of deathl

ith a shriek, that might have startled the dead,
she sunk fainting to earth 1

CHAPTER VI.
0 N r n s 'r R A I L .
IT is the day Succeeding that on which the hunter-

iu his saddle. Thesun has gone down over the (iron
Cliaco, and its vast grassy plains and green palm—

 

bling a groan—“this is too terriblel Emma! 66- I

seen seated. One is the son of the murdered man,
the other his nephew; while not far off is a third in-
dividual, who mourns almost as much as either.
Need I say it is Gaspar, the gauche?

Or is it necessar to give explanation of their be-
ing thus far from ome so soon after that sad event,
the cause of their sorrow? No. The circumstances
speak for themselve. -, telling them to be there on an
errand connected with that same crime; in short, in
pursuit of the criminals.

Who these may be they have as yet no definite,

knowledge. All is but blind conjecture, the only
thing certain being that the double crime has been
committed by Indians; for the trail which has con-
ducted to the spot they are now on, first coming
down the river’s bank to the branch stream, then
over its ford and back again, could have been made
only by a. mounted part of red-men.

But of what tribe? hat is the question which

naturalist was carried home acorpse, sitting upright , puzzles them. Not; the only one, however. Some

thing besides causes them surprise. equally

er-
plexing them, Among the other hoof-marks, they

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE SAD

groves are again under the purple of twilight. Herds
of stately ({uazutr‘s and troops of the pampas roebuck
—beauti u creatures, spotted like fawns of the fal-
low-deer—move leisurer toward their watering-
places, having already browsed to satiety on pas-
tures where they are but rarely disturbed by the
hunter, for here no sound of horse nor haying of
molossian ever breaks the stillness of the early
morn, and the only enemies they have habitually to
dread are the red uma and yellow Jaguar, through-
out Spanish America respectively, but erroneously,
named lion (lice/i) and tiger (tit/m), from a resem-
blance, tliougi a very slight one, wnich these, the
largest of the New World‘s felidw, bear to their still
grander congeners of the Old. _

The scene we are about to depict is upon the Pilco-
mayo‘s banks, srme twenty miles above the old
[tilde/id of the Tovas Indians and therefore thirty
from the house of Ludwig Halberger—now his no
more, but a house of mourning. The mourners,
however, are not all in it, for by a camp-fire freshly
kindled at the place we speak of, tw'o of them are

 

 

RETURN.

have observed some that must have bcen made by
a horse with shoes on; and as they know the Chaco
Indians never ride such, the thing strikes them as
very strange. It would not so much, Were the shod
tracks only traceable twice along the trail; that is,
coming down the river and returning up again, for
they might suppose that one of the savages was in
possession of a white man’s horse, stolen from some
of the settlements a thing of no uncommon occur-
rence. But then they have here hkemse observed a.
third set of these tracks of older date, also going up,
and a fourth, freshest of all, returning down again;
the last on top of everything else, continuin on to
the old loZdei id, as they have noticed all t e way
since leaving it. '

And in their examination of the many hoof-marks
by the ford of the tributary stream, up to the sumac
thicket—and along the tapir path to that blood-
stained spot which they have just visited— the same
tracks are conspicuous amid all the others, telhng
that he who rode the shod horse has had a. hand in
the murder, and likely a leading One. .

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‘

 

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

5

 

It is the gauche who has made most of these oh- I

sci-rations, but about the deductions to be drawn
from them. he is, for the time, as much at fault as
either of his younger companions. I

They have ‘ust arrived at their present halting
place, their rst camp since leaving the estanni'a;
from which they parted a little before mid—do. ';
soon as the sad funeral rites were over, and tie
body of the murdered man laid in its grave. This
done at an early hour of the morning, for the hot
climate of the Chaco calls for nick interment.

’I‘he sorrowing wife did naug t to forbid their de-
parture. She had her sorrows as a mother, too;
and, instead of trying to restrain, she but ur ed
them to take immediate action in searching for er
lost child. _

That Francescais still living they all believe and
so long as there seemed a hope—even the slightest
—of recovering her, the bereaved mother was will-
ing to be left filone. Her faithful Guanos would be
with her.

It needed no persuasive argument to send the

They are so acting now. Their camp—fire is but a
small one just sufficient to boil a kettle of water for
making tie mate, and the spot where they have
placed it is in a hollow, so that it may not be seen
from afar. Besides a clump of palms screens it on
the western side, the direction in which the trail
leads, and therefore the likeliest for them to appre<
heiid danger.

Soon as coming to a stop, and before kindlintr the
fire, Gaspar has gone all around, and made a (thor-
ough survey of the situation. Then, satisfied it is a
safe one, he undertakes the pickeiing of their
horses, directing the others to set light to the fagots;
which they have done, and seated themselves be«
side.

 

CHAPTER VII.
wno noun THE snon nonsn?

XVan waiting for the gauche to rejoin them by
the fire, the two youths are not silent, but converse
upon the event which saddens and still mystifies
them. For up till this moment they have not seen

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE SCENE IN THE GLADE.

searchers ofi'. In their own minds they have enotwh
motive for haste; and, though in _each it might in
(litferent in kind, as in degree, With all it is suffi-
ciently strong. Not one. of them but is willing to
risk his life in the pursuit they have entered upon;
and at least one would lay it downratlierthan fail in
finding Francesca, and restoring her to her mother.

They have followed thus far 0:1 the track of the
abductors, but without any fixed or definite plan as
to continuing. Indeed, there has been no time to
think of one, or anythng rise; all hitherto acting
under that impulse of anxiety for the girl’s fate
which they so keenly feel. But now that the first
hurried step has been taken, and they can go no fur-
ther till another sun lights u the trail, calmer re-
{lection comes, admonishing tEeiu to greater caution
in their movements. For they who have so ruth-
lessly killed one man would as readily take other
lives—their own. What they have undertaken is no
mere (pies-ion of skill in taking up a trail, but an en-

terprisc full of peril; and they have need to be can- -

tious in .w they proceed upon it.

T anything, nor. can they think of an ht to account
a for the calami‘y which has befallen t emwthe dou-
: ble crime that has been committed. No more can
1 they conceive who have been the erpetrators;
though Cypriano all along has had his suspiCions.
And now for the first time he communicates them
to his cousin. saying:
“ It's been the work of Tovas Indians." _
“Impossible, Cypriano l” exclaims Ludwig in sur-
rise. “Why should they murder my poor father?
hat motive could they have had for it?”
“ Motive enough; at least one of them had.”
“ One! who mean you?"
“ Aguara."
“ Aguara! But why he of all the others? And for
what?" .
“ g‘or what? Simply to get possession of your SIS-

 

, hudwig starts, showing greater astonishment than
' ever.

“ Cyprianol" he exclaims, “ what do you mean ?"
“Just what I’ve said, cousin. You’re perhaps

 

not aware of what- I‘ve known myself for long: that
the chief‘s son has been fixing his eyis on Fran-
cesca.”

“ But did fatherhimself know of it? I mean about
Aguara and Francesca 2'”
tho. Irather think not. And I disliked telling

im.’

All this is new light to Ludwig, and turns his
thoughts into the same channel of suspicion where
those of C 'priano have been already running. Still,
whatever e may think of Narag‘uana’s son, he can-
not bring himself to believe that Naraguana has
been guilty. His father's friend, and hitherto their
protector!

“It cannot be!” he exclaims; “ surely it cannot

,n

“It may be for all that, and in my opinion is. Ah!
cousin, there‘s no telling how an Indian will act. I
never knew one who didn’t turn treacherous when
it served his purpose. Whether the old chief has
been so or not, I'm quite sure his son has. Take
my word for it, Ludwig, it‘s the Tovas Indians
who‘ve done this deed, and it will be with them we’ll
have to deal.“

“ But whither can they have gone? and wh went
the on” so suddenly and secretly, without etting
fat er or any of us know? All that certainly seems
strange.”

“Not so strange when we think of what's hap-
pened since. My idea is, it‘s been all 0. planned
thing. Aguara got his father to agree to his carry-
ing oi? Francesca; and the old chief controlled by
the young one, let him take his way. Fearing to
face uncle he first went off, taking the whole tribe
along; and they're now, no doubt, residing in some
distant part of the Chaco, where they su upose we'll
never go after them. But Francesca \x‘i I be there
too; and we must follow and find her—fly, if we
have to lay down our lives when she’s found. Shall
we not, cousin 9"

“ Yes; shall and Wil I” is Ludwig‘s rejoinder, in a
tone of determination; their dialogue getting inter-
rupted by Gaspar coming back to the campfire, and

V sayi :’

" N'ow, Senorita!!! It‘s high time we had some sup-
per.’

On making this announcement the gauche himself
sets about preparing their evening repast. It re-
quires no great ettort of culinary skill; since the
more substantial portion of it has been already
cooked, and is now presented in the shape of a cold
shoulder of mutton, with a cake of corn-bread, ex-
tracted from a. pair of (Ilpm‘ejas, or saddle-bags. In
the Chaco there are sheep—the Indians themselves
breeding them—while since settling there the hun-
ter-naturalist had not neglected either )astorrl or
agricultural ursuits. Hence the meal mm which
came that ca e of maize-bread.

With these two piécesde Moistmce nothing remains
but to make a cup of “Paraguay tea,"for which
Gas ar has previded all the materials, viz., an iron
kette for boiling water, cups of cocoa-nut shell
termed mat ‘s—for this is the name of the vessel, not
the beverage—and certain tubes the liom/n‘llaa, to
serve as spoons; the Paraguayan being imbibed,
not in the ordina way, but sucked up through
these bwntillas. Al the above implements, with a
little sugar for sweetening; and, lastly, the :i/erba it-
self, has the thoughtful gauche brought along. No
milk, however; the lacteal fluid not being deemed a.
necessary ingredient in the cup which cheers the
Paraguayan people, without intoxicating them.

Gaspar—as all gauchos, skilled in the concoction
of it—in ashort time has the three man‘s brimful of
the brew. Then_the bomhillus are inserted, and the
process of sucking commences; suspended only at
intervals while the more substantial mutton and
maize-bread are being masticated.

Meanwhile, as a measure of security, the camp-
fire has been extin ished, though they still kee
their places aroun its embers. Then they fiuis
their su pers and retire to rest. With heads rested
upon t eir saddles, and their ponchos wrap ed
around them, they seek sleep. Ludwig first fin ing
it; next Cypriano, though he lies long awakehkep '
so by torturing thoughts. But tired nature at
{fngth overpowers him and he too sinks into slum-

er.

The gauche alone surrenders not to the drowsy
god; but repelling his attacks, still lies reflecting.

For a time he lies without stirring, or movin
a. muscle, on his back, with eyes seemingly tixe
u on the stars, like an ancient astrologer in the act-

consultin them for the solution of some deep
myster hid en from mortal ken. Then, as if hav-
ing jus solved it, he gives a sudden start, exclaim-
in :
55‘ Caram’m ! that’s the explanation of all, the
whole afiair; murder, abduction, everything."

His words, though only muttered, awaken Cypri-
ano still only half asleep.

“ hatis it, Gaspar?” questions the youth.

“Oh, nothing, ,eeiiarito; on] amusketo that took
a fancy to stic its bill into tie bridge of my nose.
But I've given Master Zancudo his quietus; and he
won‘t trouble me again.”

Though the gaucho thinks he has at last got the
clew to what has been mystifying them, like all
skilled tacticians, he intends for a time keeping it
to himself. So, saying no more, he leaves his young
companion to return to his slumbers; which the lat—
ter soon does. Himself now more widely awake
than ever, he follows up the train of thought Cypri-
ano had interrupted.

“It's clear that Francia has at length found out
our whereabouts. I wonder he «didn’t do so long
ago: and have often warned the fluefio of the dan-
ger we were in. Of course. Naraguana kept him
constantly assured; and with war to the Icni‘e be.
tween the Tovas and Paraguayans, no wonder my

.s
l

   

. for the passions which

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

 

 

poor master was too careless and confident. But
something has happened lately to affect their rela-
tions. The Indians movi so in steriousl away
from their old place showsi . And hose sho tracks
tell, almost for sure, that some white man has been
on a. visit to them. wherever they are now. Just as
sure about this white man being an emissar from
El Supreme. And who would his emissary beg, Who
sent on such errand so likely as him!”

The emphasis on the “him " points to some one
not yet mentioned, but whom the gaucho has in his
mind. Soon, however, he gives the name, saying:

“The scoundrel who bestrode that horse—and a.
thorough Scoundrel, too—is Ruflno Valdez, the va-
quesnof It is he who has murdered my master. I’d
lay my life on it.”

After arriving at this conclusion, he adds:

“ What a pity I didn’t think of this beforel If
but yesterday morningl He must have passed along
thetrnll going back, and alonel All I the chance I‘ve
let escape mel Such an op ortunlly for settling old
scores with Senor Ruflnol ell, he and I may meet
yet; and if we do, one of us will have to stay on the
spot where that encounter takes lace, or be carried
from it feel: foremost. I think 1 now which would
go that way and which the other.”

Thus redicatin , , the poncho pulls his poncho
around is shonl ers, and composes himself for
sleep, though it is some time before he succeeds in
pr ng . . '
But Morpheus coming to his aid, proves too man
g tatc him: and he at len t
“sinks into a profound s umber, not broken till he
curassows send up their sh rill cries—as the crowing
of Chanticleer—to tell that another day is dawning
upon the Cbnco.

 

CRAPTER VIII.
TEE “Losr BALL."

TRAVELERS on such an errand as that which is car-
{King the gaucho and his outhful companion across

9» been, do not lie ab late; and they are upland
stirringas the first streak of blue-gray lights owe
itself above the horizon.

Again a tiny fire is kindled; the kettle hung over
it; and the matéa, with the bombillas, called into

regulation.
‘he breakfast is just as was their supper—cold
mutton, corn bread, and yerba tea.

‘ B‘y the time they have dispatched it, which the
do n a

ll haste, it is clear enou h to emit of the

takin up the trail the have con ollow‘lng. So

gland mg their horses, hey return to, and proceed
ong

As hitherto, it continues up the bank of the Pil-
comayo, and at intervals they observe the tracks
of Francesca’s pony, where they have not been
trampled out by the other horses behind. And as
on the preceding day, th ey see tbehoof-marks of the
shod animal, both going and returning—the return
track evidently the more recently made. They notice
them however, only up to a certain oint—Aabout
twenty miles beyond the crossing pace of that
tributary stream, now so full of sad interest to
them. ere, in a grove of algal-ohms. they come
upon the spot where those they are in ursuit of
musthnw made their night bivouac; th s told by
some fragments of food lying scattered around, and
the grass burnt in two places—large circular disks,
where their camp-fires ad been kindled. The fires
are out, and the ashes cold now, for that must have
been two nights before.

At first nothing is found to ve them the slightest
clew; only the ashes and be] -burned fagots of the
fires, with some bits of rims—which have been cut
from creeping plants entwining the trees overhead
-——tho corresponding pieces, in all likelihood, having
been used as a rope tackle for some purpose the
fancho cannot ess. These, and the fragments of

00:] already re erred to, with some bones of birds
clenn picked, and the shells of a. half—score ostrich-
e s, are all the débris they can discover.

none of these items gives any indication as to
who made bivouac there; beyond the fact, already
understood and un uestioned. that they were In-
dians, with the furt er certaint of their having
stayed on the s ot over night; his shown by the
grass eased own where the bodies had lain
natretc ; as also the circular patches browsed bare
by their horses, around the picket-pins which had
he d them.
ndians certainly; but of what tribe there is noth-
in on that spot to tell—neither sign nor token.
conclud ng, C riano and Ludwig have climbed
back into their so dies—tho former terribly im a-
tient to proceed—but Gaspar still stays afoot, ho d-
ing his horse by the bridle at long reach, and leading
the animal about from place to place, as if not vet
satisfied with the search they have made. For
there are spots where the grass is long, and the
ground roughly overgrown also with weeds and
ushes. Possi 1y among these he may yet dis-
cover something.

And something he does discover—a globeshapcd
object lyin half hid among the woods, about the
size and co or of a. cricket-ball. This to you, youn
reader; for Gaspar knows nothing of your nations
game. But he knows everything about balls of
another kind—the bolas—that weapon without which
a South American gauche would lecl as a. crusader
of the olden time lacking half his armor.

s And-it is a. bola that lies before him, though one of
specuiiar kind, as he sees ul’ter scooping and tak-

i’t up. A round stone covered with cow '9 skin;
t stretched and sewed over it tight as that on a
tennis-ball. ,

“ What is it Gaspar?” simultaneously interrogate
the two, as the see him so closely examining the
thing he has poked up. At the same time they
turn their horses' heads toward him.

 

“ Una bola erdida.”

“Am a. be. lthe Indians have left behind them—-
lost, on mean."

“ o, seliofitor,’ I don‘t mean that, exactly. Of
course the red-skins have left it behind, and so lost
it. But that isn’t the reason of my calling it o. bola
pcrdida."

“ Why then, Gaspar?" asks Ludwig, with the
hereditary instincts of the samut, like his father,
curious about all such things. “Why do you call it
a lost ball?"

“ Because that‘s the name we gauchos give it, and
the name b which it is known among those who
make use of 1t—these Choco Indians. ”

“ And pray what do they use it for? I never heard
of the thing. What is its purpose?"

“One for which I hope neither it nor any of its
sort will evcr be em loyed upon us. The Virgin
forbid! For it is no c ild‘s toy,l can assure you,
sefion‘tos ; but a most murderous weapon. I‘ve wit-
nessed its effect more than once~seen it flung full
thirty yards, and int a. spot not biggcr than the
breadt of my hand; the head of a horse, crushing
in the animal’s skull as if done by nclub of (He-
llrarha. Heaven protect me, and you too, mz/rlmc 05,
from ever getting struck bya. bola perdiola.”7

“ But why a lost ball?" asked Ludwig, with curi-
osity still unsatisfied.

“Oh! that's plain enough,“ answers the guucho.
f‘ As you see, when once launched there‘s no know-
ing where it may roll to; and often gets lost in the
long grass or pmong bushes; unlike , o
(la/as, which stick to the thing aimed alt—that i3
thrown as they should be."

“ What do you make of its being found here?” in-
terrogates Cygnano, more interested about the ball
in a sense (1! erent from the curiosity felt by his
cousin.

“Much,” answers Gas r, looking grave, but
without offering explanat on: for-he seems busied,
with some calculation or conjecture.

" Indeed 1“ simultaneously exclaim the others,
with interest rekindled, Cypriano- regarding him
with earnest glance. -

“ Yes, Indeed, young masters,” proceeds the gan-
cho. “The thing I now hold in :11 hand has once,
imd not Vvery long ago, been in the ands of a Tovas

m 1cm.

“A 'l‘ovasi” exclalms C priano excitedly. “What
reason have you for thinkvmg so?” .

“ The best of all reasons. Because, so far as is
known to me, no other Chaco Indians but they use
the bola pm‘dida. That ball has been handled. mis-
lmd and left here behind by a Tovas traitor, You
are right, swim-Eta,” he adds speaking to Cypriano. ‘
"Whoever may have mur ered my poor master,
you1-_unple, Aguam is he who has carried off your
cousm. - -

“Let us on!” cries Cypriano, without another
word. “ Oh, Ludwigl" he adds. “ we ustn’t lose a.
moment, nor make the least delay. ink of dear
Francesca. in the power of that savage beast. What
may he‘not do with her?"

Ludwxgy needs no such u to lead him on. His
heart of rotheris boiling wit rage, as that of son
almostbroken by grief; and away ride they along
Elfie trail, with more haste and greater earnestness

an ever. .

CHAPTER IX.
oss'muc'mn av A “ammonium.”

IN their fresh “ spurt,” the trackers. had not pro«
ceeded very far w en compelled to slacken speed.
and finally come to a dead stop. This from some-
thing seen before them upon the plain which threat-
ens to bar their further progress—at least in the
course they were pursuing. ‘ ’ ' ’ '

The. thing thus obstructing) causestbem neither
sur rise nor alarm only anno ance; for it is one
wit which they all are famil ar——a biscmlwra, or
warren of I/isczv‘has. ' l .

It is scarce possible to travel twenty miles across
the plains bordering the La Plate. or Parana. with-
out coming upon theburrows of- this sin liar rodent;
a prominent and ever recurring fen ure in the
scenery. There the bin-awful, or Marcella—us it is
indifferently spelt—plays pretty much the same part
as the rabbit in our northern lands. It is, however,
a much larger animal, and of a different species. In
shape of head, body and other respects, it more re-
semble-so gigantic rat' and, like the latter, it, has a
long tapering tail, which strengthens the rlwcm-
bluncc. But, unlike either rabbit or rat, its hind
feet are furnished with but three toes.

The latter makes its burrows very much in the
some manner as the North American mnrmot, an
nnimul gcncrully better known by the name of
“ )miric dog,“ only that tho subterranean dwellings
0 the (rigour/La are larger, from the needs of the big;
her-bodied animal. But, strange to any, in those of
the pain a there exists the some queer companion-
shi ) as 11 those of the prairie—(t bird associating
wit the quadmpcd—n species of owl.

This shares occupation with the bismcha, as does
the other, an allied species. with the prairie dog.
Whether the bird be a. welcome recipient of the
benst’s hospitality, or an intruder upon it, is a ques-
tion still undetermined; but the latter seems the
more probable, since, in the stomachs of owls of the
northern species, are frequently found prairie dog
“pups;” a fact which seems to show anything but
amicable relations between these creatures so oddly
consortium.

There is yet another member of those communi-
ties, apparently nite as much out of place—a rep-
tile; for snakes a so make their homcs in the holes
both of birvuclla and prairie dog. And in both cases
the reptile intruder is a rattlesnake, though the
s eciss is different. In these; no doubt, the owls

nd their staple of food. ,

Perhaps the most singular habit of the Disc/Jello IS

 

 

its collecting every loose article which chances to be
lying near, and dragging all up to its burrow; by the
mouth of which it ormsa heap, often as large as
the half of a cart-load dum carelessly down. No
matter what the thing e—stick, stone root of
thistle, lump of indurated clay, bone ball 0 . dry
dung—all seem equally suitable for base misce -
lsneous accumulations. Nothing can be dropped in
the neighborhood of a. biscacha hole but 15 soon
borne off and added to its collection of Mica-Mac.
Even 9. watch which had slipped from_ the fob of a
traveler-«as recorded by the naturahst, Darwm—
was found forming art of one; the owney, ac»

uaiuted with the hagits of the animal, on mlssmg
t e watch, having Ieturned u on his route and
searched cvcr Iris/11cm moun along it, confident
that in some 0 them he would find the missing or-
ticle—as he did.

The districts frequented by these three-teed crea-
tures and which seem most suitable to their habits,
are those tracts of compo where the soil is a. heavy
loam or clay, and the vegetation luxuriant. Its con-
gencr, the «mm/i, affects the grid stenle plains of
Pat. onin, while the birrachais most met with on
the ertile pampas further north: more especially
alon the borders of those far-famed thickets of tall
thist os—forests they might be called—upon the
roots of which it is said to feed. _

Another singular fact bearing upon the habits of
the bl'scaclza may here deserve mention. These anl~
mals are not found in the Bands. Oriental as the coun-
try lyin east of the Uruguay river is called; and yet
inthis istrict exist cundltions of soil, climate, and
vs station reelser similarto those on its western
si e. The ruguay river seems to have formed a.
bartotheirmigrstion eastward; a circumstance all
the more remarkable, since they have passed over
the Parana, a. much broader stream, and are com-
mon throughout the province of Entre Rios,,‘o.s its
name imports, lying between the two.’

Nothing of 8.1 this occupies the thoughts of the
three trackers, as they approach the particular Ms-
cachera. which has presented itsle to their mew,

' athwart their path. or such things'they neither

think, 5 eak, nor care. Instead, they are but disw
satisfle to seeit there; knowing it will give them
some trouble to get to the other side of it, besides
greatly retarding their progress. If they ride right
across it at all, they must needs 0 at a sngul's pace,
and with, the utmost circumspec ion. ‘ A single false
step made b any of their horses might be the dis-
location of a oint, or the breakin of a leg. On 1 he
gulps. such accidents are far rom rare; for the
_ rrows of the Mscachas are carried like galleries
underground. and therefore dangerous to any heavy

e’d,‘,so unfortunate as to 3111,}: through the
surface mrf. In short, to ride across a bzscavhem
would be one. parwith passing on horseback through
a rabbit warren. ‘ .

“ Corpus!" is the vexed exclamation of the
gaucho ashe reins up in front of the obstruction,
with other angry words appended, on seeing that it
extends right and left far as the ve
while forward it appears to have ob
half a» league. ,

“ We can‘t gallop across that," he adds, “nor yet
goat even a,deceut walk. We mut crawl for it,
muchachoa, or ride all the way around. And there’s
noknowing how for round the thing might force us;
leagues likely. It looks the biggest biscachev'a I ever
set eyes on. aura-i-i J” .

The‘flnal ejaculation is drawled out with a pro-

e of vision,
thof at least

‘ longed-and bitter emphasis as he again glances

right and left, but sees no end either way ’ _
“ lli luck it is," he continues, after *Complctmg his

' recOnnoissance. " Satan’s own lurk our coming u on

this. A whole countr covered With traps! ‘ Wel , it
won’t help us any ma us a month about It; and I
think our best we. will be to strike straight across.”

” I think so too, ’ says Cypriano, impatient to pro.

ceed. ,

“Let us into it, then. But, Mics mioc, have a care
how on go. Look well to the ground before you;
and '91: your horses as far from the holes as you
ere there’s two near together steer mid»

can. ,
way between ving both the widest berth possible.
Every one oilY hem s a dangerous pitfall. (imply! !

what am I. pratclin about? Let me give you the
lead, and you ride a ter, track for track.”

So saying, he heads his horse in among the rub»
bish heaps, ouch with its hole yawning adjacent;
the others. us admonished, close following, and
kin-ring in his tracks.

- They move onward at a creeping pace, every now
and then forced to advance circuib msly, but taking
no hood of the creatures upon whose domain they
have so unceremoniously intruded. In truth,thcy
have no thought about these, nor eyes for them.
Enough if they can avoid intrusion into their dwell—
ings by a short cut downward.

Nor do the. bisrachm- seem at all ulsrmad at the
sight of such formidable invaders. They M9 any-
thing but shy creatures; instrad, far more Elven to
curiosity: so much that they will sxt squatted on
their hams, in an upright attitude, watching the
traveler as he passes within less than a score of
yards of them, the expression on their faces being
that of grove culltmnplution. Only if he draw too
familiarly near, and theyjmagme him an enemy,
more is ascwmner off, their short fore legs giving
tin-m a. gait also hightenmg their resemblance to
rats.

As a. matter of course, such confidence makes
them an easy pre to the biscudtavcatcher; for there
are men who to low takin them as a profession.
Then-flesh is sweet and go to eat, while their skins
are a marketable commodity; of late years forming
an article of export to England, and other European
countries. '

Hledinr neither the uadmpeds, nor the birds,
their fellow-tenants o the burrow—the latter

0-...-.” “and”; .. .

 

 

- will be welcome to the Pa

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

  

'7

 

 

perched u on the summits of the mounds, and one
after anot er flying off with a defiant screech as_the
horsemen drew near—these, after an hour spent in a
slow but diligent advance, at length, and without
accident, ride clear of the {dreamer-a, and out upon
the smooth 0 en plain beyond it.

Soon as fee ing themselves on firm ground, every
spur of the party is plied; and offjshey go at a tear-
ing pace, to make up for the lost time.

CHAPTER X.
A snowman our or. JOINT.

WHEN Gaspar on first Sighting the_ Li's-cashew,
poured forth vials of wrath upon it, he little dreamt
that another burrow of similar kind, and almost at
the very same hour, was doing him a service by
causing not only obstruction, but serious damage to
the man he regards as his greatest enemy.

This second warren lay at least a hundred miles
from the one they have succeeded in crossing, in a
direction due east from the latter, and on the
straight route for the city of Assuncion.

Let us throw aside circumlocution, and at once
give account of the accident.

On the same day, and as alread said, almost the
same hour, when the trackers are rought up by the
biscachera, a single horseman is seen with cad
turned toward the Paraguay and making as if to
reach this river; from which he is distant some
eighteen or twenty miles. He rides at a rapid rate;
and that he has been doing so for-along continuance
of time, can be told by the giug gait of his horse,
and the sweat saturating t e animal’s coat from
neck to croup. For all, he slackens not the pace-
instead, seems anxious to increase it, every now and
then digging his spurs deefi, and by strokes of a
spear shaft 8 comes in his ands, urging his road-
ster onward. Any one witness to his acting in this
apparently frantic fashion, would sup se him either
demented, or fleein trom‘ pursuers w 0 seek noth-
ingless than his ii 6. But as the plain over which
he rides issmooth, level and treelcss for long leagues
to his rear as also to right and left, and no pursuer
nor aught of living thing visible upon it, the latter,-
at least, cannot be the case. And for the former, a

lance at the man‘s face tells that neither is insan-
ity the cause of his cruel behaviorto his horse. Ru-
Iinod Valdez, the vaqueano, if bad, is by no means
ma .

Su rfluous to so , what the errand pressing him;
hastepifing to communicate news which he ows

terward return to Halberger s estancia with a 11352
of those hireling soldiers—quaintly termed cum
eras from their living in barracks, or cuartels.

But the pace is only for a short while sustained.
Before going much further he feels his horse floun-
dering between his legs; while a glancetotho ground
shows him he is ridi through a blacachero!

Absorbed in thong t—perha perfecting some
wicked scheme—he had not not ced the burrows till
now. Now he sees it—holes and heaps all around
him—at the same time hearing the screeches of the
owls, as the frightened birds fly uplout of his path.

1;: isl abolitedttr) drumsbridle, v; egmtlllie reinshiiirfi
su eny or rain grasp—y ome,w c
has gone headlong to the ground! At the same in-
stant he hears a sound, like the cracking of a dead
stick sna ped crosswise. *It is not that, but the
shank of us horse. broken above the astern jo ntl
It is the last sound hehears then, or or some a
after; he himself sustaining damage, th in or a
different kind—the dislocation of a shoulder 9—
with a shock which deprives him of his senses,

Long lies he upOn that moonlit plain. peither
hearing the cries of the night birds nor seeing the
great ratlike quadrupeds that, in their cm'losity
grim? crowding close to, andAgo runn around

In

And though consciousness at length returns he
remains in that same lace _ _
and for the whole 0 another day and night—
leaving the s 0t, and upon it his broken-legged
horse, himsel to limp slowly away, leanin upon
his guilty spear. as one wounded on a ban vfleld,
but one who has been fighting for a baa cause.

He reaches Assunelon-e—though not till the third
day after—and there .
But for Gaspar Mendez, here ma have been luCk m
that shoulder-blade being put on of joint.

CHAPTER XI.
THE BAROMETEu-TREE.

Anna passing the him/chem, the trackers have
not proceeded i‘ai‘, when Gaspar again reins up with
e cs lowered to the ground. The others seeing this,
a so bring their horses to a stand; then watch the
gauche, who is apparently engaged with a fresh in-
Spection of the trail. .

“Have you found anything else?" asks Cypri-
ano.

“No, seiiorito. Instead, I‘ve lost something."

“ What?" inquire both, in a breath.

“Idon’t any longer see the tracks of that shod
horse. I mean the big one we know nothing about.
The ponv‘s are here, but as for the other, they‘re
missin ."

All girlie now join in a. search for them, riding
slowly along the trail, and in different directions
backward and forward. But after. some minutes
thus passed, their search proves fruitless; no shod-
hoof Brim, save that of the pony, to be seen, i .

“ T is accounts for it,” matters Gaspar, giving up
the quest, and up as to himself.

“Accounts for what! ‘ demands Cypriano, who has
overheard him.

“ The returntracks we saw on the other side of the
camp-ground. I mean the freshest of them, that
went over the ford of the stream. Whoever rode
that horse, whether red or while men, has parted

 

~ nuteness, as it abotanist endeavori

ayen tyrant, and ate

till morning’s light— _

to his broken bones set.”

 

from the Indians at their camping-place, no doubt
after staying all night with them. Hal there’s
something at the back of all this; somebody behind
Aguara and his Indians—that very somebody I’ve
been guessing at. He—to a dead certainty.”

The last sentences are not 5 oken aloud; for as
yet he has not con rided hissuspicions about Francis
and Valdez to his youthful comrades.

"No matter about this shod horse and his back
track,” he continues, once more heading his own
animal totlie trail. “ We've now only to do with those
that have gonoforward, and forward let us haste.”

While speaking he strikes his ponderous spurs
against his horse’s ribs, setting him into acanter,
the others startin 01! at the same pace.

For nearly an our the continue this rate of
speed, the cons icuous trail enabling them to travel
rapidly and w thout interruption. It still carries
them up the Pilcoruayo, though not always along
the river’s immediate bank. At intervals it touches
the water‘s edge, at others arting from it; the de-
flections due to “bluffs ” w ich here and there im-
ginge upon the stream, leaving no room for a path

etween it and their bases.

When nearing one of these, of greater elevation
than common, Gaspar again draws his horse toa
halt; though it cannot be the cliff which has caused
him to do so. His eyes are not on it, but turned on
a tree which stands at some distance from the ath
they are pursuing, out upon the open plain. I[)t is
one of large size, the light green foliage, the leaves

innate, bespeaking it of t e order leguminosw. It
s in fact one of the numerous species of mimoras,
or sensitive plants, common on the plains and moun-
tains at South America, and nowhere in greater
amber and variety than in the region of the Gran

aco.
Ludwig and Cypriano have, in the meantime, also
drawn up; and turning toward the tree at which
Gaspar isgazing, they see its long slender branches
covered With clusters of bright yellow flowers, these
evidently the object of his attention. There is some-
thing about them that calls for closer scrutiny; since
after a. glance or two, he, turns his horse‘s head to-
ward the tree, and rides on to it. '
lAflg’ered under its branches, he raises his hand
a o

lucks of! a spray of the flowers, and dis-
mount

, proceeds to examine it with curious mi-
to determine
its enusor speciesl But hehasnot oughtof this;
for knows the tree well, knows it to possess cer-
tainstrange roperties. one of which s been his
reason for ri ngu to it, and acting as he now does.

The other two ve also drawn near: and dis—
mountlng, hold their horses in hand while they
glitch him with wondering eyes. One of them cries
“What now Gas arr Why are you gatherin
those flowers?" It 1is C riano who speaks, impif-
tiently adding, “Remain r, our time is rccious.”

“True, master," gra’vel responds e gauche;
"but however precious it s, we may soon have to
employ it otherwuie than in taking up a trail. If
this tree tells truth, we'll have enough on our hands
a? take care of ourselves, without thinking of In-

ans. ’ ‘

“ What mean you?” both interrogated together.

“poms hither, refioritos, and set your eyes on these
flowersl"

Thus refilested they comply, lending their horses
nearerto t 9 tree. ' ,

“Wellf”‘exclaims Cypriano. “I see nothing in
them; that is, nothing that strikes me as being

run e.

“Bgt I do," says Ludwig, whose father had given
him some instruction in the science of botany. “ 1
observe that the corollss are well-nigh closed, which
they should not be at this hour of the day, i: the
tree is in a healthy condition. It’s the dingy; I
know it well. We have passed several on the way
as we started this morning, but noticed none with
the flOWers thusshriveled up."

‘th“ Std‘ud still a while," counsels Gaspar, ‘ ‘ and watch
em. . .
They do as desired-and see what greatly surprises
them. At least 0 print) is surprised; for the young
Paraguayan unl,  e his halt-German. cousin, unoh
servant of Future generally. has never given a
thought to any of its particular phenomena; and
that now presented to his azc is one of the stran—
gest. For while they stan watchin r the dimly. its
flowers continue to close their coi'o las, the petals
assuming a shrunk, withered appearance. '

The gauclio’s countenance seems to take its one
from them, growing gi‘aver as he stands contem-
plating tll‘C changc.

“Pl/r [2.2/1.9 /” he at length exclaims, “if that tree
be speaking truth, and I never knew of the dim/y
telling lies, we’ll have a storm upon us within
tweut minutes' time; such a one as will SW68) us
out 0 our saddles, If we can‘t get under she ter.
Ay, sure it’s oing to be either a temporal or tel»
menial And t is is not the where to meet it. Here
we’d be smothered in a minute, if not blown up into
the sky. Stay! I think 1 know of a place near by,
where we may take refuge before it’s down upon us.
Quick, muclwvlws/ Mount, and let us away from
here. A moment lost, and it maybe too late; Iva.
moms!” _

Leaping back into their saddles, all three again go
off in a. gallop; no longer upon the Indian trail, but
in a somewhat different direction, the gaucho guid-
ing and leading.

CHAPTER XII.
run CAPTIVE m.
J (1317 about the some time that the portals)! track-
ers had'turned to take departure from barom-

eter-tree, a cavalcade of a very different kind and
composed of a greater number of indi "duals, is

‘ l

 
  
   
  
 
 
 
    
   
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
    

mov' over the plain, some forty or fifty miles dis-
tant. t is the party being tracked; A uara and his
band of young braves on return to t e toldfiiia of
their tribe; t e one now become their permanent
place of abode.
More than one change has taken place in the In
dian cohort Since it passed over the same ground go-
ing downward. In number it is still the same; but
one of them does not sit erect upon his horse: in-
stead, lies bent across the animal is back, like a sack
of corn. There he is fast tied tokeep him from
falling 01?, for he could do nothing to prevent this—
being dead!
Another change in the composition of the parly i
is, that the white man, Valdez, is no longer with it.
Just as Gaspar had conjectured, from seeing the re-
turn tracks of his horse, he had parted company 2
with the Indians at their first encampment, on the
night after the murder. Another and very dif-
ferent individual has taken his place at the head of
the troop. The daughter of the murdered man
vvlliof now rides by the side or the young Tovas
c ie 1
Though a captive, she is not bound. They have
no fear of her attempting to escape; nor does she
even think of it. Though ever so well mounted, she
knows such an attempt would be idle, and on her
diminutive roadster, which she still rides, utterly -
hopeless. Therefore, since the moment of being »
made captive. no thought of escaping by flight had '
ever entered her mind. ,
With her long yellow hair hanging disheveled
over her shoulders, her cheeks white as flies, and an
expres ‘on of utter woe in her eyes, she sits her sad-
dlefié'gningly regardless of where she is going, or
whether she fall oi! and get trampled under the
boots of the horses coming behind. If alone, her
Bony might wander at will; but alongside Aguara‘s
orse it keeps pace with the latter, its meek, sub-
missive look seeming to tell of its being as much a.
prisoner as its mistress. ,
Beyond the bereavement she has suflered by her
father’s death-for she saw him struck (low and
believes him to be dead—no ill’trcatment has ' n
offered her; not even insult. Instead the yo
cacique has been making eiforts to gain her gig
will! He pretends innocence of any intent to e
her father’s life, laying it all on the shoulders of Val-
dez. Giving reasons, too not without some ~ -
cance, and an air of probability. For was n ‘
raqueano an old enemy of her father, while
were resident in Paramga l’ The young Tova; »
has learnt this from dez himself, and does
fail to s of it to his prisoner. Further, he
tends i was on account of this very crime the
vaqueano has committed, that he parted company
with them—in short, fled, fearing punishment had
be accompanied them back to their town.
In this manner the wily Indian does all he can to
mislead his captive as they journey along mggthcr.
If somewhat changed the personnel of the diau
troop, much more is it altered in the neral aspect
and behavior of those who compose t-a very con-
trast to what was exhibited on their way downward.
No longer mirthful making the welkin ring with
their jests and ion laughter; instead, lhere is 81"
lence upon their lips, sadness in their hearts, and
gloom—even fear-on their faces. For they are
carrying home one of their number a co and
dread tellin the tale of it. What will the e rs
say, when ey hear what has occurred? What
(i f

 
   
   
  
        
   
 
 
   

  

 
 
 
 

  
     

      
 
     
   
 

  
    
 
  
 
 
 

   

     

o

The feeling among Aguara‘s followers may be
learnt from a dialogue, carried on between two of
them who ride in the rear of the troop. They have
been s eaking of their pale-face captive, and ex-
tolling er charms, one of them saying how much
their young caci us is to be envied his good luck, In
possession of suc a charming creature.

“After all, it may bring him into trouble," sug-
gests the more sage of the speakers. adding, “ay,
and ourselves as well—every one of us."

“ How that?" inquires the other. _

“Well' you know, if Naraguana hadbeen living,
he would never have allowed this.”

“ But Naraguana. is not living, and who is to, gallb-
sny the will of Aguara? He’s now our chief, and
can dglasahe likes with his captive girl, or any other.
Can‘t e?

“No; that he can’t. You forget the elders. Be~
sides, you don’tsecm to remember the strong friend-
ship tliat crusted between our old cacique and him
the vaqumno has killed. I’ve heard say that Nara-
guana, just before his death, in his last words left a
command we should all stand _by the a e-face
stranger, her father, and rotect him and his against
eVery enemy, as long as t e remained in the Chaco.
Strange protection we’ve yen him! instead help a
to the man who has been his murderer! A now
returning home, with his daughter a captive! What
will our people think of all this? Some of them, I
know, were as much the white man‘s friend almost
as Naraguana himself. Besides, they won’t like the
old cacique’s dying injunction havin been thus
disregarded. I tell you, there’ll be tron 1e when we

get back.” _
“ No fear. Our young chief is too popular and
powerful. He‘ll not find any one to oppose his will;

which as I take it, is to make this little pale-face
his wi e, and our queen. Well, I can’t help envying
him‘ she’s such a sweet thing. But won't the Tovas
maidens go mad with jealousyl I know one—4hat‘s
Nacena—"

The dialogue is interru ted by a shout heard from
one who rides near the root of the troop. It IS a
cry as of alarm, and is so understood by all; at the
same time all comprehending that the cause is
something seen afar oil. . ‘ '

In an instant every individual of the arty springs

 

up from his sitting posture, and stan s erect upon

«

 

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

 

  

   
  

the hack of his hor . ig out over the plain.
The corpse. alone. ll! . , the captive girl also keep-
ing her seat, to all seeming l|('(:‘(llOSS of what has
startled them, and raring not what new misfortune
may be in store for her, Her cup of sorrow is already
full, and she cares not if it run over.

 

CHAPTER XIII.
CAUGHT IN A DUST-STORM.

AT the crisis described, the India party is no
longer traveling upon the I’ilcoinayo's hank, nor
near it. They have parted from it at a point where
ilie river makes one of its grand curves, and are
now crossing the neck of the peninsula embraced
within its windings. This isthmus is in width at
least twenty miles, and of a character altogether
diiferent from the land lying along the river‘s edge.
In short, a sterile, treeless ex anse, or “travesiu ”
—for such there are in the C lace-not barren be-
cause of infertility in the soil, but from the want of
water to fertilize it. Withal it is inundated at cer‘
tain periods of the year by t e river‘s ovurllow, but
in the dry season parched by the ra s of a tropical
sun. Its surface is then covered wit i a white efflor-
escence.which resembles a heavy hoar frost; this
called salt/73', beingasort of impure saltpeter. left
after the evaporation and subsidence of the floods.

They have entered this cheerless waste, and are
about midway across it, when the cry of alarm is
heard' he who gave utterance to it being older than
the others, and credited with greater knowledge of
things. That which had caught liis attention,
eliciting the cry, is but a phenomenon of Nature,
though not one of an ordinary kind; still not so rare-
in the region of the Chaco; since all of them have
more than once witnesaied it. But the thing itself is
not yet a 'iarent save to him who has shouted. and
this only y the slightest sign giving portent or its
approach. For it is, in truth, a storm.

Even after the alarmist has given out his warning
note, and stands on his horse‘s hips, gazing OR in a
certain direction, the others, looking the same way,
can perceive nothing to aceount for his strange
behavior. Neither upon the cat tli, nor in the heavens,
does there appear an thin that should not be there.
The sun is crossing t iroug a clnudless sky, and the
plain, far aseye can reach, is without animate ob-
ject upon it; neither bird nor beast having its home
in the Mlitré. Nothing observable on that Wide,
cheerless waste, save the shadows of themselves
and their horses, cast in dark silhouette across the
hoary ex arise, and greatly elongated; for it is law
in the a ternoon, and the sun almost down to the
horizon.

"What is it?" asks Agiinra, the first to speak. ad—
dressing himself to the Indian who gave out the cry.
“ You ap ear to a )prehend danger?”

“And anger t iere is, chief, 'returns the other.
“Look yonder!" He points to the level line be-
tween earth and sky, in the direction toward which
they are traveling. “ Do you not see something!"

“ No, nothing. "

“Not that brown-colored stripe just showing along
the sky's edge, low. as if it rested on the ground?"

“Ah yes; Isee that. Only alittle mist over the
river fshould say."

" hi it that, chief. It‘s a cloud, and one of a sort
to be dreaded. Seel it‘s rising higher, and. if l'm
not mistakcn, will ere long cover the whole sky."

" lint what do you make of it? To me it looks like
Smoke."

"No; it i=ii’t that, either. There's nothing out
that way to make fli'e-Miieiilier grass nor trees:
tlil retore it can’t be smoke."

“ What then? You appear to know?"

" I do. ’Tis ill/sf."

"Dust! A drove of wild horses? 0r may they
be mounted? All! you think it a party of Guay-
ciirus'!”

“No, indeed.
much-ay more—than them.
ccive me, that‘s a (II'III/(lllfll.”

“Hal” exelaims the young caciqno, at length
comprehending. “ A tome/1m, you think it is?"

The others of the band mechanically mutter the
same word,in low tones of apprehension. For, at
t'iough slow to )erceive the sign, even yet but
:iightly perceptib e, all of them have had experience
of the danger.

“ I do, chief," answers he interrogated. “ Am now
sure of it. ”

While they are still speaking it. the cloud mounts

. higher against the blue background of sky, as also
becomes more extended along the line of the hori-
z in. Its color, too, has sensibly changed, now pre-

 

Biit something we may dread as
If my eyes don't de-

9 Ming a dim yellowish appearance. like that mix- ,

lure of smoke and mist known as a “London fog.”
But it is somewhat brighter, as though it hung over,
half-concealing and smothering, the flames of some
grand contlagration.

 

And as they continue regarding it, red conisca- .

tions begin to shoot through its ('paque mass, which
they can tell to he lightning. Yet all this while. upon
the spot where they have pulled up, the sun is shin-
ing serenely, and the air st ill and tranquil as if gale
or breeze had never disturbed itl

But it is a stillness ainiorin i1. unnatural. accompa-
nied by a scorching heat, with an atmosphere so
close as to threaten Sull‘oaatlon.

This, however, lasts but a short While. For in loss
than ten minutes after the. cloud was first dcscried,

‘ and sets her ai‘oot on the ground.

a wind reaches them. blowing directly from it at .

first, in puffs and gusts. but as cold as iliouirh bid-n
with sleet, and so st rong as to sweep several of them
from the backs of their horses. Soon after, all ii
darknesss above and around them. Darkness as of
night; for the. (lust has drifted over the. sun, and its
disk is no Ion or visible—harm disappeared as in a
Ltotaleclip  int far more. sud only.

i
i

It is too late for them to retreat to anyplace of l
shelter, were one ever so near, which there is not.
And well know they the dim 'er of being caught in
that l‘XPOSCd spot; so well, t iat the scene. now ex- l
hihited in their ranks is one of fright and confusion. l

’l‘orrilicd exclmnations are sent up on all sides, but i
only one voice of warning, this from him who had ‘,
first descried the. cloud.

“From your horses!" he. calls out; “ take shelter
behind them, and cover your faces with yourjergcw .’
It '()11 don’t, you'll be blinded outright."

I is counsel acts asacoininand; though it is not
needed, all of them, as himself, sensible of the ap-
proaching prril. In a trice. they have dropped to the
ground, and plucking the pieces of skins, which
serve them as saddles, from the backs of their
horses, niufiie 11 their faces, as admonished. Then
each clutchingt ie halter of his own, and holding it
so as to prevent the animal changing position, they
await the onslaught of the storm.

MeanwhileA uara has not been inactive. Instead
of having seize the pony’s bridle-rein, he has passed

causing their horses to cower and kick many
‘ screainin in ai‘frigbt or from the pain they have to
endure. ‘or not only does the 10/ manta carr dust

with it, but sand, sticks, and stones, some of 1. ie lat-
ter so lar e and sharp as often to inflict se ere
wounds. .‘ometliiiig besides in that now assa ng
them; which, sweeping £1ch >ss the Mil/[IWL has lifted
the sulphurous eiliorescence, that leats into their
eyes hitter and blinding as too smoke of tobacco.
But for having muffled up their faces, more than
one of the pariy would leave that spot sightless, if
not smothered outright.

For nearly an hour the tempest continues, the
wind roaring in their eais, and the dust and gravel
cloutiiig against their naked skins, now and then a.
sliarpangled pebble locerating them. At times the
blast is so strong they have difficulty in keeping
their places; still more in holding their horses to
windward. And all the while there is lightning and
thunder the last loud and rolling continuous] . At
lcn th t e wind, still k ‘enly cold, is aceonipan ed by
a. s cety rain, which pours upon them in torrents.

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE NIGHT CAMP.

round to the rear of the troop, lending his captive ,
along with him: for the. wind Sil‘llit's them in front.
There, in the ice of all, better sheltered, he (lis-
inounts, fliiigs his arms around the unregisting girl,
He does all this .
gently, as though he were. a friend or brotherl For
he has not lost hope he in. ' yct win her heart.

“Star of my life," he in to her, speaking in the
Tovas tongue, which she s glitly undersi ands. “ As
on see, we‘re in some danger, but it will soon pass.
.leanwliile, we must take safe )3 to guard against it. i
So. please to lie down, and this will protect you."

“Miss eaking, hetakes the plnnii-d clo'ik from
his shouli ers and spreads it over those of the cap-
tire, at the same time cove: ing her head with ii, as ,
it‘ it were a hood. Then he gently urges her to lie on
the ground,

To all she. submits mechanically, and without of-
fering Opposition; though she little cares about the
illust-storm—whether it blind or altogether destroy
ll‘l'. "

I 2' ll :ifier, i‘ is on :2n 1 over them in .le i' ~ My,

 
  
 
  

chill as if eoz'iing direct from the snowy slopes of
the (‘ordillcraswas in all likelihood it does.

They know that thE  a sign of the tormmta ap-
prcnming its end, w .h Soon after arrives; ter-
minating almost asabrnptl " it had begmi. The
dust (llrflpptflll‘fl from the that which has set

 
  

 

, tied on the ground now covering its surface with a

thick coating of inud~convcrivd into this by the
l‘ullliWIillt‘ lie sun again shines forth, in a sky

; bright and serene as if cloud had never crossed it!

The lumen/a is over, or has passed on to another
part of the great (jhaco plain.

And now the Tovas youths. their naked skins well
wwhed by the shower, and glistening like. bronze
tr sh_from the furnactv~somo of them, however,
bleeding from the scratches they have received——
spring upon their feet, readjust thejwv/rm on the
backs of their horses, and once more reniount.

"l‘hen their young chief, b the side of the captive
girl, having returned to his ilace at their ll('tld
ill“ i eke that ot of painful experience, am
:t.:‘ irJoai'my :o umxpcl-tcdly interrupted.

      

ll .1..

 

,._..,‘

 

Iris
(.verto
the bai
his yo
league
ll[)llll t
anoth
inet tl
than}
first, «,
ward '
teeth

But
its slit
(if its
l)efl)rt
of hit
tci‘ior
when
them

-v’

HAWDVJID

 

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

9

 

CHAPTER XIV.
A Boss non SHELTER.

IT is scarce necessary to say, that the storm that
overtook the Indian garty was the same of which
the barometer—tree ha given warning to Gaspar and
his young companions. But although many a long
league separated the Indians from those following
upon their trail, and it would take the latter at least
another day to reach the spot where the former had
met the tormenta, both were beset by it within less
than half an hour of the same time. The Indians
first, of course, since it came from the quarter to-
ward which all were traveling, and therefore in the
teeth of pursuers and pursued.

But the trackers were not called upon to sustain
its shock, as those they were trackiug up. Instead
of itsconiing upon them in an exposed situation,
before its first puffs became felt, they were safe out
of harm‘s way; having found shelter within the in
terior of a cavern. It was this Gaspar alluded to
when saying he knew of aplace which would give
them an asylum. For the gaucho had been twice

cairy them; for they have no longer any doubts
about the coming on of a tormente. The forecast
iven them by the flowers of the iiinay is gradually
sing; made good by what they see—a dun yellowish
clou rising against the horizon ahead. The gauche
well understands the sign, soon as he sees this recog-
nizing it as the dreaded dust-storm.
It approaches them just as it had done the In-
dians. First the atmosphere becoming close and
1 hot as the interior of an oven; then suddenly chang-
3 ing to cold, with gusts of wind, and the sky darken-
1 ing as though the sun were echpsed.
But, unlike the others, they are not exposed to the
5 full fury of the blast; neither are they in danger of
,bcing blinded by the sulphnrous dust, nor pelted
y with sticks and stones. Before the storm has thus
1 developed itself they reach the crest of the cliff
l overhanging the army/0; and ur ing their horses
1 down a sloping path remembereg by Gaspar, they
get upon the edge of the Stream itself. Then turn»
mg up it, and pressmg on for another hundred

I They now go in full gallop, fast as their horses can

 

 

 

 

 

THE TORMENTA.

over this ground before—Tonce on ahuntin excur-
sion in the compan of his late master; angonee at
an earlier period 0 his life on an expediiion of less
Eleasant remembrance, when, as a captive himself,

e was carried up the Pilcomayo by a. party of
Guaycuru Indians, from whom he was fortunate in
making escape. .

His knowledge of the cave’s locality however, was
not obtained during his former and forced visit to
the district they are now traversmg; but in that
made along with the hunter—naturalist; who partly
out of curiosity, but more for geological investiga-
mom, had entered and explored it. _

“ It’s by the bank of a little army/0 that runs into
the Pilcomayo, some three or four miles above the
big river. And, as I take it, not much further from
where we are now. But we mustmake a cross cut to
reach it in the quickest time.”

This Gaspar says as they part from the barom -
ter-trcc. Followmg out his intention he heads his
horse toward the 0 en plain, and forsakes theIndian
trail, the others fo lowmg his lead.

ards, they arrive at the cavern‘s mouth, just as the
rst pufl 0f the Chlll Wind sweeps down the deep
rut-like valley throng which the arr runs.

“ In timel” exclaims the gauche. “ hanks to the
Virgin, we‘re in time] with not a second to spare,”
he adds, dismounting, and leading his horse into the
arching entrance, the others doing the same.

Once inside, however, they do not give way to
inaction; for Gaspar well knows they are not yet
out of danger.

“ Come, mmhachos," he cries to them, soon as they
have dis osed of their animals, “ there’s something
more to e done before we can call ourselves safe.
A tormenta’s not the thing to be trified with. There
isn’t corner or cranny in this cave the dust wouldn’t
reach to. It could find its way into a corked bottle,
I believe. Cari-1mm! there it comesl”

The last words are spoken as a, whiff of icy wind,
now blowing furiously down the ravine turns into
the cavern ‘s mouth, bringing with it both dust and
dry leaves.

For a moment the gaucho stands in the entrance

 

 

 

gazing out; the others doing likewise. Little can
they see; for the darkness is now almost opaque,
save at intervals, when the ravine is lit up by jets of
forked and sheet lightning. But much do they hear;
the loud bellowing of wind, the roaring of thunder,
and the almost continuous crashing of trees, whose
branches break off as though they were but brittle
glass. And the stream which courses past close to
the cave’s mouth, now a tiny i'ivulet, will soon be a.
raging, foaming torrent, as Gaspar well knows.

They stay not to see that, nor aught else. They
have other work before them—the something of
which the gaucho spoke, and to which he now hastily
turns, crying out:

“Your pouches, my lads! Get them, quick! We
must close up the entrance with them, otherwise
we‘ll stand a good chance of being smothered.
Vuga /” .

Neither needs urgin to haste. Young as they
are, they too have hat experience of a tormenta.
More than once they have witnessed it, remember»
ing how in their house, near Assuncion, it drove the
dust through the keyholes of the doors, findin its
way into every crack and crevice, making ri gels
across the floor, just as snow in northern lands—of
which, however, the know nothing, save from what
they have read, or een told by one who will tell
them of such things no more.

In a few seconds’ time, three pouches—for each
possesses one—are snatched from the cantles of
their saddles, and as speedily spread across the en-
trance of the cave—ijust covering it, with not an
inch to spare. With ike speed and dexterity, they
join them together, in a. rough but firm stitching
done by the nimble fingers of the gauche—his
thread a strip of thong, and for needle the sharp
terminal spine of the Mid plant—one of which he
finds growing near by. They attach them at to
by their knife-blades stuck into seams of the strati-
ficd rock, and at bottom by stones laid along the
border; these heavy enough to keep them in place
against the strongest gust or wind.

All this done, they breathe freely, now feeling se-
cure; and aftera last look at the screen to assure
himself of its being reliable, the gaucho turns to his
com anions, uiet y remarking:

“how, muc adios, I fancy we need have no more
fear of Mr. Tormenta."

CHAPTER XV.
AN UNWELconn inrnunnn.

As they are now in the midst of darkness, it
might be imagined nothing could be done but keep
their places, or go groping idly about. Not so,
however. Gaspar has no intention of letting the
time pass in such an unprofitable manner; in-
stead, he at once resumes speech, and along with it
action.

“Now, youn masters," he says, making a move-
ment toward t e place where they had left their
horses, “ since we are shut up here, I don’t see why
we shouldn‘t make ourselves as comfortable as we
can under the circumstances; and the best way to
begin will be with what’s usually the winding up of
a day’s work—that‘s supper. Our bit of rou h rid-
ing has given me the appetite of a wolf, an I feel
as if I could eat one red raw. Suppose we have an-
other set~to at the shoulder of mutton? What say
you, sefiorz‘los?” .

They answer in the affirmative, both being as
him as himself. .

“ e sha’n‘t have to eat in darkness, either,” he
proceeds. “ Luckily, I’ve brought with me a bit of
candle—best wax at that. A cost affair it was
when whole; being one of a )air 1 ad to pay for
when my poor mother die , to be used at her
funeral, and for which the rascally padres char ed
me five pesos apiece—because censecrated as 1; eg
called‘it. As they stood me so much. I thought
might as well save the stumps; which I did, and
have ot one of them here. .Starting out, it oc-
curreg to me we might some time. need it, as you
see we do now; so I slipped it into my saddle—
b s,”

za’llgilhile speaking, he has moved on to his horse, and

ot beside him without much straying; for his
gor'mer visit to the cavern has made him familiar
with its topography, and he could go an where
throu h it without. a glimmer of light to gui e him.
Plung ng his hand into his ample alparelas, and rum-
maging about for a. short while, he ets hold of the
bit of unburnt candle—souvenir o a. melancholy
ceremony, which, however, he had long ceased to
mourn over, since his mother has bean dead for
many years.

 

He has drawn it out; removed the scrap of buck- ..

skin in which it was wrappedgand with flint and
steel is proceeding) to strike a light, when a sound
reaches his ears, t at causes him to suspend o era.-
tions, and stand intently listening for its re 6 tion.

Simultaneoule has it been heard by the at or two,
as also by the t ree horses; these last, on hearing-
it, showing their afl’right by a series of snorts, while
they dance about over the floor of the cavern. For
it is a. sound which, heard in any part of tropical
America, whether on sunlit plain or in shady forest,
strikes terror to the heart of all who hear it, be it
man, bird, or beast. No living creature in that land
but dreads the cry of the Jaguar.

“El tigre I” exclaims Gaspar, in a subdued tone,

g...

his voice halfdrowned by a second roar from the ‘

great feline, this time louder and more prolon ed.
“Where is it?" they ask one another hurr edly,
and in whispers, fearing to speak out. For loud as
is the creature's voice as it reverberates through the
hollow cavity, what with the bellowin of the Wind
and the trampling of their horses” boo s on the hard
rock, it is impossible to tell whence it came, and
whetherthe jaguar be outside the cavern or Within.
About this there is a difference of opinion among

 

 

é; .

'10

Gaspar, the Gaucho:

 

them, but only for an instant—all three agreeing, as
for the third .time the terrifying note is sounded.
Then they believe it to have come from outside. But
again they as quickly differ, at hearing a fourth
repetition of it; this as certainly seeming to have
been uttered inside the cavern. Once more chang-
ing their minds, when, for the fifth time, the beast
gives out its grand roar; since along with it they
‘ ear anothersound as of some hcav body hurling
itselfagainst the screen of the s rea ponchos, too
solid to be mistaken for a pii of wind. Beyond
doubt, it is the tiger seeking admittance to the cave!
Though but a. few minutes have elapsed since its

first fierce note fell u on their cars, they have not
stood idly listening. iistead, all three have groped
the way to their horses, got hold of their guns, and
returned to take stand near the entrance. Gas )ar,
moreover, has lit the stun? of candle and stuc ' it
u on a projecting pointo rock; for he knows the
tiara, like other cats, can see in the darkness, and
would thus have the advantage of them.
. Soon a sin it treats them to another bit of trum-
peti , t is time more angrily intoncd, as if de-
man 'ng shelter from the storm, and no doubt as
much surprised as puzzled at the strange obstruc-
tion debarrlng entrance to the cave—in all likeli-
hood its lair. . ‘

They have stationed themselves in a line facmg
the screen, and with guns cocked stand ready. to
fire at the beast should it persist in its intention to
enter. But now, with the light shining upon the

nchos, they see what a pears to be its body press-

n ainst these from t e outside though quickly

wfilfgrawn, as if the creature l'ecoiled from a thing
that awes while perplexing it.

“ Hadn’t we better fire at it through the ponchos?
Some one of us may hit it."

C rlano makes he suggestion.

“ o," dissents Gaspar ‘wo might all miss that
zvhay; and if we did, ’twould drive the tigre mad, and

on-

He is interrupted by another or from the jaguar;
this a fierce scream, showing t e animal already
maddened enough, or, at all events, madly impa-
tient, and determined no longer to endure exclusnon
from the cave. For while still continuing that cry,
it bounds up against the screen plucking the knives
from their places, tossing of! the stones, and la ing
the entrance open. A gust of wind enterin h ows
out the candle, and all is again darkness. ut not
silence; for there are noises close to where they
stand, which the know must roceed from the

andto them quite incomprehensible—a succession
growls shorts, and coughs, as if the beast were
8

\ jaguar, though (1‘ erent from its ormer utterances,

o
b sudocated; while 'at the same time a. heavy
body seems to be tumbling and struggling over the
floor of the cavern.

“By St. Jagol" cries Gaspar, firstto comprehend
what it means, “ the brute‘s cau ht in our .ponchosl
He‘s bagged—smothered up! F re into him! Aim
where you hear the noise. Tim I"

At the word, their three guns go off to ether; and
then, to make sure, another shot addi ional from
the double—barreled piece of Cypriano; Ludwig‘s
gun being the rifle that belonged to his father, found
where the latter had fallen.

And sure work have their shots made of it. For as
they stand in the darkness listening, they hear nei-

ther wl, nor snort, nor coughing; but, instead,
gnly walling of wind and the rumbling of thun-
or

“Dead as a door-nail!" pronounces Gaspar feel-
inghls way to where he had stuck the bit of ees’-
wax, and once more setting it alight. Then return-
ing toward the entrance, he sees that he has in
eve thing rightly conjectured. For there, envel-
o in the ponchos, with its claws stuck fast into
the close-woven fabric of wool, lies the great spot-

_ cat—not at full stretch, but double up into n.
cos lum , as it had worked itself in its efforts

to get free! ough all their shots had hit it, some
of he bullets passmg through its body, a quivering
throughout its frame tells that life is not yet extinct.
But it is extinguished instantly after, by Gas risy-
lug hold of one of the knives, and giving at new the

: coup de grace by a cut across its throat; as he does

so :

"'1‘ avg for your impudence—lntruding yourself
on tihree hungry travelers about sitting down to sup-
per

 

CHAPTER XVI.
BETWEEN TORRENT AND TXGER.

BAvniG dragged the dcad beast out of their on-
cbosgthey are about to readjust these as be ore,
when it strikes them there is no longer any need for
closln the cave’s mouth. The first last of the tor-
“menta ving blown over, the dust borne upon it is
now in less volume: while the wind, rushing direct
down the ravine, carries everything along with it—
only an occasional whifl seeking entrance into the

cave.

“For the matter of our being blinded," remarks
the gauche in perceiving this, “we needn’t trouble
about shutting the door again. Though if i‘m not
greatly out in my reckoning, there‘s something else
mgneed keeping out—a thing more dangerous than

“What thing!" he is asked.

“Another tigre. I never knew one of these spot-
ted beauties to be about alone. The always hunt
in couples; and where there’s a fema o, the male is
sure to be with her. As on see,'it‘s the lady we’ve
closed accounts with. an for certain the gentleman

, isn’t far off. Out in that storm, he‘ll be in the same
way makin for this snug shelter. So we miiy look
for his wors ip to present himself at any moment."
,. Ludwig and Cypriano turn their eyes toward the

 

entrance, as though they expected even then to be-
hold the dreaded in truder.

“To keep him out,” pursues Gaspar in a more so-
rious vein, “ ’twill be no use to put up the ponchos.
We can’t trust to the old Tom entangling himself, as
did his esposa. That was all an accident. And yet
we‘re not safe if we leave the entrance 0 en. As
we’ve got to stay here all night and sleep ere, we
daren’t close an eye so long as e’s ran ing about.
Instead, We’d have to lie awake, and on t e alert.”

“ Why can’t we wall it up with those stones?"
Cypi‘iano thus interrogates, pointing to some scat-
tered bowldcrs lying about the cave~large blocks
that have broken 011 from its roof, and fallen upon
the floor.

“ Not a bad idea,” rejoins Gaspar, “and one quite
practicable,”lie adds, with his eye takin in the di-
mcnSions of the cavei'n‘s mouth but little larger
than an ordinarystable door. “You‘re right, Senor
Cypriano: we can do that.”

Without further speech, they set about the work;
first rolling the larger masses of stalactite toward
the entrance to form the foundation of the wall.
But bcf ore having got liulf—a-dozen of them fixed in
their places, a sound roaches their cars, which causes
them suddenly to desist; for all three rccognizc it
as coming from the throat of a jaguar! Not a. loud
roar, or scream, such as they heard when that lying
dead first made its presence known, but a sort of
sniff or snort, as when it was struggling, half-choked
by the ponchos. Soon, however, as they stand listen-
ing, the snorting changes into a long low growl. end-
ing in a gruff bark' as of _a watch-dog awakened by
some slight noise, for which he is not sure of its be-
ing worth 1113 while to forsake his kennel, or spring
upon his feet.

Not thus doubtful are they. Instead, the sounds
now heard excite and terrify them as much as any
that preceded; for they can tell that tiger No. 2 is,
as themselves, within. the cave!

"1‘07- Dior!” excluims Gaspar, in a. low tone of
voice, “it’s the old Tom sure, and inside tool Hal
that accounts for our not being certain about the
she. Both were yelling at the same time, answer-
ing one another. Where can the brute be?”

They turn their eyes toward the back of the cav-
ern, but in the dim limmer can see nothing like a
tiger. They only ear noises of different kinds,
made by their horses, then freshly ailrighted, once
more sniffing the air and moving uneasily about.

“ Your guns!” cries Gas er, in hurried accents;
“ get them loaded again! the tifilre attacks us, as
it’s almost sure to do, our knives w be of little use.

Viva, muuhuchos!"

All together again lay hold of their gun but
where is the ammunition? Stewed in a pair 0 hol-
sters on the poinmel of Cypriano's saddle, as they
well know—powder balls, percussion-caps, every—
thing. And where is the horse himself? for, left
loose, he has moved on to another part of the
cavern.

Cyprinno taking the candle in hand, they 0 in
search of him. Soon to see that the frightens ani-
mal has taken refuge in an angular embayment be-
tween two projecting buttresses of rock, where he
stands cowering and trembling.ll

They are about to up roach in, going cautiously
and with timid steps, w en, 101 on a is 8 between,
they perceive a long yellow body with lack spots
lying astrctch, at one end of it a Sfir of eyes giving
back the light oftheir candle wi a li ht almost as
brilliant, and at intervals flashing like re. It is the

j M.

fights sight brings them suddenly to a stand, even
causing them to retreat a step or two. For the
ledge on which the flare crunches is directly be-
tween them and CyEi-iano's horse, and to approach
the latter they mus pass right under the fornier;

since it is upon a sort of shelf, several feet above ‘88

the level of the ground. The at once see there is
no hope of reaching the nee ed ammunition with-
out tempting the utteck of the tiger; which, by
thelrmovcments is becoming at every momentmore
infuriated and a ready seems about to spring upon
them. Instinctively, almostmechanically, the move
further away, having abandoned the idea of efend-
ing themselves with the guns and fall! back on
their ’only other weapons, the hives. Lu wi coun-
sels retreating altogether out of the cave, an leav-
ing the horses behind. Outside, the wind no longer
rages, and the dust seems to have blown past.
They but hear the pattering of rain, with peals of
thunder, and the sw1sli of the stream, now swollen.
But nothing of these need they fear. To the course
counseled, Cvpi'iano objects; as also Gaspar; fcar—
ing for theirliorscs, almost sure to be sacrificed to
the fury of the enraged jaguar. And where would
they be tlieni’. Afoot in the midst of the (filiaco,
helpler as shipwrecked sailors on a raft in mid-
ocean

For a while they remain undecided; only a short
while, when they are made aware of that which
speedily biinizs them to a decision, and Without any
will of their own. In putting space between them-
selves and the dangerous beast, they have retreated
quite up to the cavci'n‘s entrance. There looking
out, they see that egress is debarred them. The
stream, swollen by the rain, still pouriii down as in
a deluge, has lippcd up to the level 0 the cave’s
mouth. and ruSies past in an impetuous torrent,
crested, and carrying huge rocks, With the trunks
and broken branches of trees, upon its seething
current. Neither man nor horse might dare ford it
now.I They are caught between a. torrent and a
tiger

 

CHAPTER XVII.
saves air A srrrrmo-nnvin.‘
To be shut up in a room with a royal Bengal 1: er,

 

or, what amounts to the same, a. cave of sins (ii-J

gt

mensions, is a. situation which no one will covet.
Nor would it be inth im roved were the tyrant of
the Asiatic ‘uugles trans. ormed into a jaguar—the
despot of t e American tropical forests. For, al-
though the latter be smaller, and less powerful
than the former, in an encounter with man it is
equally fierce, and don erous. As regards size. the
male jaguar often reac es the measurement of an
Indian tigress; while its strength is beyond all pro-
portion to its bulk, Humboldt has made mention of
one, that dragged the carcass of a horse it had killed
across a'deep, difficult ravine and up to the top of a
hill; while similar feats have been recorded by Von
Tschudi, Darwin and D’Orbigny.

Familiar with its character and capabilities, no
wonder, then, that our gauche and his companions
sfiould feel fear, as they take in the peril besetting

(Bill.

For there is no knowing how long the jaguar will
keep its patience, or its place; and when it shifts,
they may “look out for squalls. " They can still see
it on the ledge; for although the light is feeble with
some dust floating about, through this its aring
eyeballs, as twin stars through a thin stra um of
cloud, gleam coallikc and clear. They can see its
jaws, too, at intervals open to omit that cry of men-
ace, exposmg its blood-rod palate, and white Serra-
ture of teeth—a sight horrifying to beholdl All the
while its sincwy tail oscillates from side to side now
and then striking the rock, and breaking off bits of
stnlactites, that; fall in sparkling fragments on the
floor. At each repetition of its growl, the horses
Show fresh affright, and dance madly about. For
the instinct of the dumb animals seems to admonish
them they are caged with a dangerous companion—
they and it alike unable to part company. Their
masters know this and knowing it, are all the
more alarmed. A fight is before them: and there
appears no chance of shunning it—-a hand-todiand
fig 1:, their short-bladed knives against the sharp
teeth and claws of it ja arl

For a. time they stan irresolute. oven Gaspar him-
self not knowing what to do. Not for long, how-
ever. It would not be the gaucho to surrender to
despair. Instead,_a thought seems suddenly to
have occurred to him—a we of escape from their
dilemma—as evinced by his ehavior, to the others
yetincom rehensible.

Parting rom them, he glides oi! in the direction
of his horse: which happens to be nearest, like
Cypi'lano’s, cowering in a crevice of the ruck. Soon
beside it, he is a sin seen to plunge his hand into
the alpcrqias, an grape about, just as when search~
in for the stump of candle.

find now he drawsforth something ve similar—
a acket with a skin covering, tied wit a bit of
st ng. Returning to them, and removing the
wrapper, he exposes to view a half-dozen little
rolls, in shape somewhatlike regalia cigars, sharp-
pointed at one end, and barbed as arrows.

Ate glance, both boys see what they are. The
have not been brought up in a countr where bul -
fighting, as in~all Spanish America, is he rincipal
pastime, without having become ac uain ed with
most matters relating to it. And wha. Gaspar has
bro ht before their eyes are some M'f’el‘dlaé‘, or
spigfiig-dovils, used, along with the banderillas for
rousing the fury of the bull while bein goade by
the meadow: round the arena, before he matador
makes his final assault. Gas er, who in ear] life
has played picador himself in ‘he bull- hts 0 San
Rosario, knows howto manufacture al the in: le-
ments psi-taming to the funcion dc toms, and as
usually ept astock of tor-tarmac on hand, chiefly for
the amusement of the Tova: youths, who were ac-
customed to visit the estancia.

Often, while dwelli at Assuncion, had he wit-
nessed the wonder an delight With which the sav-
eswho came therere ed all sorts of fireworks;
and it had occurredto m that, in the event of their
encounter-in strange Indians, some “spitting-
devils " mig t prove of service. So, at starting out
on their present expedition, just as with the bit of
wax can is, he had tossed a packet of them into his
saddle-bags. _ _ .

He does not give this ex lunation till afterward.
Now there is no time for ing; he must act, and
instantly. But how he intends acting, or what he
means to do with the tortsrillas, neither of his youth-
ful comrades can tell or guess.

They are not kept long in ignorance. Snatching
the candle from (.‘vprimio, who has been carrying it;
—with this in one hand and a. torterilla in the other
w—he moves off in the direction of the ledge, Where
luckin the aguar still lies>astret§hPPORsibly the
reports of t ie guns have cowed _it to keeping its
place. ‘Vheiher or no, it has kept itwithout change
of attitude or position; though at intervals givin
utterance to long low growls, with an. occasiona
bark between. . ‘ , »

Advancing cautiously, and in Silence, the gaucho
gets within six paces of it. This he _dee_ms near
(-nough for his purpose; which, by this tune, the
others comprehend. It is to cast the tor-15911241 at the
tiger, andi possmle get the barbedpomt to pene-
trate the creature’s skin, and there stick.

He makes the attem t, and succeeds. First hav.
ing gut the primed en into the candle’s flame, and
sett e fuse on fire, he launches the “Devil” With
such sure aim, that it is seen to fix itself in the
jaguar‘s back just over the right shoulder.

The bi'utc, feeling the_sting, starts to its feet with
an angry scream; this instant] changing to a cry
of affright, as the cakod pow ci- catches fire and
fizzing up, envelops it in a shower of sparks. ot a
second longer stays it on the ledge but boundin off
makes for the cave’s mouth, as if éatan himself iad
taken hold of its tail. So sudden and unexpected is
its retreat, that Ludwig and Cy riano, to at out of
the way, (g0 tumbling over the s ones; w e Gaspar

 

- V».

 

 

‘4'"

 

/

‘ which thev know to

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

‘ 11'

 

 

comes nigh doing the same; in the scramble drop-
pin the candle, and of course extinguishing it. But
the ight goes out only with the jaguar itself; the
brute bounding on with the sparks like the tail of a
comet streaming behind, illuminating the whole cav-
ern, and causingthe stalactites to glitter and sparkle,
as if its roof were frosted with real diamonds:

In an instant after, all is darkness; simultaneously
with the light going out a sound reaching their cars,
as of some solid bodgéialling hesVily upon water—-

the tiger plungin r into the
stream. That uts out the “ spitting-dew ," and no
doubt along With it or soon after, the life of the
animal it had so adrighted; for even the king of
American beasts could not escape being drowned in
that foaming, seething flood.

Soon as satisfied that the enemy is liars de wombat,
and the coast clear,Gaspar gropes about for the
candle, and finding, once more lights it. Then in
his usual fashion, winding up with some quaint re-
mark, he says: I

“No more caterwauling to-niglit, I fancy, unless
the kittens be about too. If iheybe, it‘ll give us a
bit of sport, drowning them. Now, mill/rims J I think
we may sit down to supper, without fear of being
again balked of our maid and mutton."

CHAPTER XVIII.
A nocx-nocxn suzirrmu-nooii.

As the darkness, due to the storm, has now been
succeeded by the more natural darkness of hi lit,
the trackers, for this day, cannot proceed fun or,
were they ever so eager. Besides, there is another
bar to their continuing; one still more dirfctly ob-
structive, even forbidding their exit from he cave.
This, the arroyo which now in full flood fills the ra-
vine up to the c iff’s base, there leav
either man or horse. That by w ch t ey ap-
p roaclied is covered beyond fordlng depth, with 9. cur-
rent so swift as to sweep the strongest animal from
its feet, even were it an elephant. And to attem t
reaching the opposite side by smmmlng, would on y
result in their getting carried down to bedrowned
to a certainty, or have the life crushed out of them
on the rocks below. ,

Gaspar knowing all this, does not dream of mak-
ing any such rash experiment. On the contrary, as
he has signified, he designs them to remainall night
in the cavern. Indeed. there is no alternative, as he
observes, explaining how egress is forbidden, and
assuring them that they are, in point of fact, as
much prisoners as though the doors of a jail were
sh t and looked upon them.

heir imprisonment, however need not last till
the morning, so far as the flood s concerned. And
this he also makes known to them, himself aware
that the waters in the arroyo will subside as rapidly
as they had risen. It is one of those short rivulets,
whose floods are over almost as soon as the rain
which causes them. Looking out again near the
hour of midnight, they see his prediction verified.
The late swollen and tast-rushin stream has be-
come reduced to nearly its no dimenswus, and
runs past in entle ripple, while the moon shining
tull upon i s iows nota duke of foam.

They co d even now pass out of that-ave, and on
up the clil! where they came down, if the desired
to do so. More, they in t with such a. mobn,
return to the river’s andcontinue on along the
trail they had forsaken, Altai! so plain as it, could.
be followed in a ll ht ar mot-5.1m; “least so
think they. so be evinfl 3.3 5791- mp3,.
tient to get on, is greatly ed to corms, and
chafcs at the irksomeness ‘91: delay. 
objects, giving his reasons. " ' i» , . 

- 9' ltwdhgldn’t

 

“ If we were to a on now," he 

better us abit. llwe’d gain by i: would the
league or so from this.in sherbet.  there; and
attempting to travslnp its bank we’d find scoresof
little creeks that run into it, in run fmhet, and
have to swim our horses across them. . Thai; would
only lose time, instead of gainintih, Now, by day-
btreakiliheysn an be lager] m £33,911 we an m ’
8 mlg onwitho t ,‘e , somany p-.
{is es. I tell youu‘Seuoli-SMI-fzno, i; we startnow,

t l only be to find the old saying true, ‘Moxe haste,

worse speed.‘ ” . ,

He to whointhis ‘ is addressed waives the
it} pllciltéon‘ o! the and mm

e in., ,nns ,

f‘ esides,” adds’the gaucho, by way of clinching
his argument, “ we’ve got to spend part of the night
somewhere, and have some sleep. If we keep on
Without that, it ma end in our lireakiin,r dead

idown. which would e worse than being a little be-
hind time. We all stand in need of rest now.
Speaking for myself I want it badly; and I’m Sure
so does Master Ludwig and you too, serial-ill)! If
we were to leave the cave, and seek for it anywhere
outside, we’d find the ground soaking wet, and, like
enough, every one of us get laid up with a spell of
rheumatlcs. Here we’ll be as snug as a Manama in
its hole; and, I take it, Will sleep undisturbed by the
equalling of any more cuts. ’

As 0 priano makes no further Opposition, it is de-
cidcd t int they remain in the cave till morning."

i The little incident as above, With the converSation
which accompanies it, does not take place immedi-
ately after the tiger has been disposed of; for they
have eaten supper since. By good luck. some sticks
were found in the cave, half-burnt ta ots the re-
mains of aflre no doubt left by {1 pa .VO Indian
hunters. who had also 5 m. a night_there. With
these they were enable to boil their kettle, and
makes matc' of their favorite ym'hu tea; while the
"knuckle" of mutton and some cakes of corn
bread still left needed no cooking. It is after all
this was over, and they had been some time con-
vex-sin on the many strange incidents which oc-
cu to them throughout the day, that they!»-

no ath for ,

remarkable on account of its

V‘dians, and so

it. Yields. aroun

 

came aware of the flood having fallen, and escape
from their rock-bound prison possible. Then suc-
ceeded the discussion recorded.

Atits termination. as nothing more can be done,
and all feeling fatigued, to go to rest is naturally
the next move. Their horses have already been at
tended to by the removal of the riding gear, while
some rough grass found growing against the cliff,
near the cave’s entrance outside, has been cut and
carried in to them.

A slight grooming given to the animals, and it but
remains to make their own beds. This is done by
simply spreading their ji-rgas and carom‘llaa along
the flinty stalagmites, each having his own remain
for a illow. Their ponchos, longsincepulled apart,
and t cdust cuffed out of them, are to serve for
what they really are—blankets; a purpose to which
at night they are put by all gauchos and most Ar-
gentinos—iis much as t ey are used during daytime
for cloak 01- great-coat.

Each wrapping himself up in his own, all conver-
sation ceases, and sleep is sought with closed eyes.
This night it is found by them in a succession some-
what changed. As on that preceding, Ludwig is
first asleep; but almost instantly after it is Gaspar,
not Cypriaiio, who surrenders to the drowsy god;
filling the hollow cavity with his snoring, loud as
that often heard to procccd from the nostrils of a
tapir. He well knows they are safe within that
rock-bound chamber; besides that he is tired dead
down with the day’s exertion; hence his so soon be-
coming oblivious.

Cypriano is the last to yield. But he, too, at
length gives way, and all is silent within the cavern,
save the “ crumpcrump " of the horses munching
theincoarse provender, with now and then a hoot
striking the hard rock. But louder than all is that
raucous reverberation sent up by the slumbering
gauche.

 

CHAPTER XIX.
TEE “SACRED TOWN.”
ursuing party is peacefully reposing
ites of the cavern, that pursued
’ or the

WHILE the
upon the sta ,
acaches its destination—the “Sacred Town

ovas. .

The tolderia, so named, stands upon a level plain,
near the shore of a lar e and beautiful lake, whose
numerous low-lying is ets, covered with a thick
growth of the morichiuhave the ap'fiearance of
palltm-groves grovVing direct out or t e water it-

e .

s .
'A belt of the same stately trees borders the lake
all around, broken hereand there by projecting
headlands; whileawey over the adjacent compo, on
the higher _a.nd drier ground, are seem palms of
other and diflerent species, both fan-[caved and pin-
nate, growmg in on ses or larger “montcs,” with
Evergreen shrubs an trees of deciduous foliage in-
e rsod. : »

A some three or four hundred yards from the
lake’sedge, a. high hill rises abruptly above the
lain—the only elevation within many miles. Thus
saluted, it is visiblefrom afar, and forms a. con-
spicuous feature or the landscape' all the more
_ singular she a,
whichlstb'e frustum o! a cone. Though its si es
are at steep pitchI thong: thickly Wooded to the

suin‘mitytrees 0

like  But some 3 more i. an trees stand
them; escafloldsupon which are laid the bodies
or the Tovss dead; hundreds of which may be seen
in all stages of deco. , or shrlveled and desiccated
by theory winds an. and o; the Chase till they re-
semble n mummies. For it is the “Ceme-
tery Elli, aspot hallowed in the hearts of these In~
giving the title of “ Sacred ” to this
p arm asthe town adjacent to it. The
6th! ll just under the hllLbetween its
 8,3119“ 01  1N0 grand city, as
might be sup from such a. high-sounding
name, but aim a collection of palm and bamboo
folder or huts, scatteredaboutr without any design
or order: each owner having been lettfree to select

the site of his tail tone . nos union the Tovas
1 municipal residuumst Ft sim leg; and most
primitive alienation; '1‘  dive pgs, grander
and morspr ‘

. . _ common are grouped
dm-ijwa; inthe center oiwhich is one
much'larger than any of the others, its dimensions
equaling a dozen of them. This is nota dwelling,
however. but the Malacca, or House of Parliament.
‘l’i’vf'hfips. with greater propr'ety, it might be called
‘LOngi'ess Chamber,’ since, as already hinted at,
the pohty of the Tovas tribe is rather republican
than monarchical.

Strange, as sad, that in this republic of rod-skins,
fwd SO-Called. Savages, should exist the same po-
litical contradiction as among some other republican
COmmumtles. binding the name of civilized. For al
though themselves individually free, the Tovas In-
dians do not believe in the doctrine that all men
should be so; or, at all events, they do not act up to
it. Instead, their practice is the very opposite, as
shown by their kee ing numbers of slaves. Of
these they have him reds, most of them being In-

‘dians of other tribes, their enemies, whom they

have made captive in battle. But to the Tovas mas-
ter it signifies little what be the color of his bond-
man’s skin, whether white or red; and many of the
former, women as well as men, may be seen doing
drud cry in this same sacred town-its hewers of
woo and drawers of water. These are also cap-
tives the spoil of predatory incursions across the
Sale 0 into the settlements of Santiago, Salvo and
Tucuman.

Most of these slaves, employed in the care of cat-
tle. live apart from their masters, in a. sort of sub-
urb, where the dwellin s are of a less immanent
character than the o toldoe. be dos being

standin upon its table- ‘

 

differently constructed. They more resemble the
tents, or wigwams, of the North American Indians;
being simply a number of poles set in a circle, and
tied toget er at the to s; the hides of horses cover
ing them, instead of t e buffalo-skins. which serve a
similar purpose on the northern prairies. .

It may seem strange that captives with white
skins, thus left unguarded, do not make their es-
cape. But no; those so kept do not even seek or de-
sire it. Long in captivity, they have become “In-
dianized,” lost all aspirations for liberty, and grown
contented with their lot; for the Tovas are not hard
taskinasters.

On the night of that same day, when the tommzta
overtook them, Aguara and his party aipprosch the.
Sacred Town, which is about twent mi es from the
edge of the salitral, where the trai arts from the
latter, going westward. The plain etween is no
more of saline or sterile character; but, as on the
other side, showin a luxuriant vegetation, with the»
same picturesque 'sposal of palm groves and other
tro ical trees. ,

c hour is late—nigh to midnight—as the captiye
train passes under the shadow of the Cemetery Hill,
making round to where the Iolderia stands; for both
lake and town are on the west side of the hill.

Well may the young cacique feel something of
fear, his face showing it, as he glances up to that
elevated spot where he so late laid the corpse of his
father. Were that father living, he the son would
not be passin there with the aughter of Ludwig
Halberger as s captive. Even as it is, he can fancy
the spirit of the deceased cacique hoverin over the
hill, and looking frownineg, reproachf , down
upon him!

As if to escape from such imaginary frowns, he
gives the lash to his horse; and setting the animal
into a gallo , rides on alone—havin first laced the
ca )tive un er the charge of one of is fol owers.

n reaching the tolde7ia, however, he does not go
direct to his own dwelling, which is the la est of
those ad‘acent to the malm‘ca. Nor yet an ers he
among t is toldos ,' but, instead, makes a. wide cir~
cuit around them, taking care not to awake those
sleeping within. The place for which he is makin
is a sort of half but, half cave, close to the base 0
the hill, with trees overshadowing, and a rocky
background of clifl’. '

Arrived in front of this solitary dwelling, be dis-
mounts, and, drawing aside the horse’s skin which
serves as a swing door, calls out:

;Shebolthal" i h if

resent y a woman a pears n t e opening— wo-
man she could be canes. For it is a bag of most re-
pulsive a pearance; her face halt hidden by a tangle
of long air, black, despite old age indicated by a
skin shriveled and wrinkled as that of a chameleon.
Add to this a pair of darkgray eyes dee sunken in
their sockets, for all gleaming brilliant y, and on
have the countenance of ShebothHorceress o the
Tovas tribe—one of castes sinisteras ever presented
itself in a doorway. .

She speaks not a word in answer to the friendl
Salutation of the cacique; but stands silent in lieu
Obeisant attitude, with her skinny arms crossed over
her breast, as it waiting to hear what he would tur-
ther say. His words are by way of command: ‘

" Shebothal I’ve brought backwith me a captivo
~a young1 girl of the ale-faces. You must take
charge of er, and keep er here in your but. She‘s
not et come up but will presently. So get things
re y to receiveh r.” ,

Shebotha but bends lower, with an inclination, of
the head, to implfithat his instructions Will be arr
tended to. Then 9 adds: ‘

“No one must see or converse with her; at least,
not for a. time. And you mustn‘t admit any one in-
side your wldo, 63068: the witless white creature,
your slave. Aboutb it don‘t 51 Hy.‘ But have

out all others, as I know you can. on undo
me Shebotha?" , ' ' .‘
she makes answerin the affirmative, but asbeforo

only by a nod. . . _ V .

"Enough!" is the young chief’s satisfied ‘rejan-
der, ashe vaultsback upon his horse, and rides , i!
to meet the captive train, which he knows must
now near. " r

That night, as for other nights, and do. succeed-
ing, Francesca Halberger has this ho ‘ has {or a.
hostess, or rather the keeper of her‘frison; since
the unhappy girl is in reality kept an gnarled SI
a prisoner. '

 

CHAPTER XX.
PASTE AFTER Pownim.

LONG before daylight penetrates tbelnterioro! the
cavern, or shows its first streak on the sky outside,
the trackers are up and active.

A hasty breakfast is prepared; but, as the mutton
bone is now uite bare, they have to fall back on an"
other kind 0? flesh-meat, which the provident Gas-
par has brought along. This is Margot, or u it is
called by English-spoofing people, "vJerked beef;'?
in all likelihood a sailor’s pseudonym due to some
slight resemblance between the word
“jerked,” and the Guardani-lndian one chow-iii, as
pronounced by South American ple. '

C'horqui is simply beet cut in long, thin strgm,
then hung over a rope or rail, and ex to a at
sun—in the absence of this, to fire—til the juicesaro
thoroughly dried out of it. Thus prepared, 11'. Will
kee for weeks, indeed months.

T 8 reason for so preserving it, is the scarcity of '
salt, which in the districts where charqui prevails
is difficult to be got at; and, in con uence dear.
Most o! the beefinported from the La iota, under
the name of “j ed beef," is not charqm, but sun-
]: meat cured with salt.

et is preserved by _a similar'prooess through-
out most parts 01 Spanish America, as in Mexico.

 

  

  

‘12

 

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

 

and California, and for the same reason; but in
these countries it is termed toad/‘0, and sometimes
(£61110.

Uliarqui is by no means a dainty viand; not nice
either to the nose or palate. Those portions of it
which have not had sufl‘icient sun in the di- ‘ng
process, become tainted, and the odor is anyt ing

ut agreeable. For all, it serves a purpose in those
countries where salt is a scarce commodity; and
cookeduas all Spanish Americans cook it—witli a
plentiful seasoning of onions, garlic, and chilé, the
‘ amey” flavor ceases to be perceptible. Above
al , it is a boon to the traveler who has a long jour—
ney to make through the uninhabitable wilderness,
with no inns nor post-houses at which he may ro-
plenish his 5 ent stock of provisions Being dry,
firm, and lig t, it can be conveniently carried in
haversack, or saddle—bags.

By Gaspar’s foresight, there is a packet of it in
Ludwig's alparojas, where all the other provisions
are stowed; and a piece cut from one of the strips,
about the len th of a Bologna sausage, makes
breakfast for a 1 three. Of the Paraguay tea. they
have a good store the yerba being a commodity
which packs in sma 1 space.

Their morning meal is dismissed with. slight cere-
mony; and soon as eaten, the recaparison their
horses; then leading them onto the cavern, mount,
and are off.

As the arroyo has long since shrunk to its ordi-
na level, and the path along the base of the bluff
is ry as when trodden 1), them in their rush for
shelter from the storm, t iey have no difficulty in
getting out. So on they ride up the steep acclivity
to the cliff’s crest; which last is oua level with the
pampa itself.

But on reaching it, a sight meets their eyes—it is
now daylight—causing a surprise to Ludwig and Cy-
priano; but to Gas ar something more—something
akin to dismay. orthe sage gauche mentally sees
further than either of his less experienced com-
panions; and that now observed by him gives
token of a new trouble in store for them. The
plain is no longer a. green rassy savanna, as when
they galloped across it on t e afternoon preceding,
but a smooth expanse, dark brown in color, its
surface glittering under the red m 3013 the rising
sun, whose disk is as yet but half visible above the
horizoni ‘

“Santos Dias!“ exclaims the gauche, as he sits in
his saddle, contem lating the transformation, to
him no mystery. “ thought it would be so.”

“ How ve strange i” remarks Ludwig.

“ Not at a strange, seriorito ; but just as it should
be, and as we might have expected. ’

“ But what has caused it?"

“Oh, cousin," answers Cypriano, who now com-
prehends all. “ Can't you see? I do.”

“ See what i”

“Why, that the dust has settled down over the
plain; and the rain coming after, has converted it

nto mud.”

“Quite ri ht, Senor Cypriano ”
par; “ but t at isn't the worst of it.’

Both turn their eyes 11 on 'him, wondering what
worse he can allude to. y nano interrogates:

“Is it some new danger, aspari“

“Not exactly a danger, but almost as bad; a like-
lihood of our again being delayed.”

“ But how?"

“ We’ll no Ion er' have track or trace to guide us
if this abominab e sludge extend to the river, as
dare say it does. There we’ll find the trail blind as
on owl at noontide. As you see, the thing‘s nearly
an inch thick all over the round. ’Twould smother
u the wheel-ruts of a loa ed carreta."

is words, clearly understood by both his young
companions, cause them renewed‘uneasiness. For
the can reason that if the trail be obliterated,
their chances of being able to follow the route
taken by the abductor: W111 be reduced to simple
essin :and what hope would there be search-
{incl}? lib: way over the limitless Wilderness of the
ace

” Weill” says Gaspar, after they had remained for
some moments gazing over the cheerless'e'xpaii‘se
which extends to the very verge of their Vision, , 1t

interposes Gas~

won’t serve an good purpose, our loiteri here.
We may as we ush on to the river, an there
learn the worst— worst it's to be. Vamonos.”

With this, the Spanish synonym for “Come
along)" the gauche gives his horse a dig in the ribs,
with spur rowels of six inches diameter, and starts
off at a swinging pace, the others after.

And now 3 do by side go all three, splashing and
s attering through the mortar-like road, which,

ung u in flakes by their horses's boots, is scat-
tered ar in every direction.

Half an hour of quick centering brings them back
upon the Pilcomayo’s bank; not where they had
parted from it, but higher up, near the mouth of the
arroyo. For Gaspar id not deem it necessary to re
turn to that prophetic tree, whose forecast has
proved so unfailing. To have goneback thither
would have been a roundabout of several miles,
since they had made a cross-cut to reach the cavern;
and as on the way they had Seen nothing of the In-
I(iiian trail, it must needs have continued up the

ver.

But now, having reached this, they cannot tell' for
here, as on all the plain over which they ave
pcssed, is spread the same coating of half‘dried dirt,

st becoming drier and firmer as the ascending
tropical sun, with strengthened intensity, pours his
hot beams upon it. It has smothered up the In-
dians’ trail as com letely as if snow several inches
deep la upon it. 0 track there, no sign to show,
that sit er horses or men ever passed up the Pil-
comayo‘s bank. _ _

“ Gaspard" exclaims the gaucho, in spiteful tone.

I “It is as I anticipated' blind as an old mule with a
topojo [over its eyes. May the fiends take that tor-
mania,

 

CHAPTER XXI.
s'roppnn BY A. “nucno.”

FOR a time the trackers remain at halt, but with-
out t‘orsakin their saddles, pondering upon What
course they 5 ould pursue, or rather what direction
they ought to take.

Only a short while are they undecided. It seems
good as certain that the Indians have ke t to the
river, for some distance further on, at ai events.
Therefore, it will be time enou h to enter upon a
more prolonged deliberation, w en they come to a
point where this certaintly ceases. Thus reflecting,
they start off afresh, wit their horses’ heads as be-
fore.

Going at good speed as ever, in a. few minutes they
arrive at the confluence of the ammo with the
greater river; the former here running between

 

i

means sure. They must have turned up the arroyo,
or struck off across the pampa, on some route
known to them and perhaps leading more direct to
Whatever may be their destination.

It is all conjecture now; and upon this they must
rely. But the weight of probability is in favor of
the pursued party having 'ept to the river, and Gas-
par is of this opinion. After riding some distance
up the western bank of the arroyo, and seein no
trail or track there, he again returns to where t ey
had crossed. saying:

“I think we may safely stick to the river. I'm ac-
uainted with its course for at least thirty leagues
urther up. At about half that distance from ere

it makes a big elbow, and just there, I remember,
an old Indian path strikes off from it, to cross a
traoeric. Hui that’s good as sure to be the route
these red-skins have taken. For now I think of it,
the ath was a big, broad road, and must have been
muc traveled by Indians of some kind or other.
So, muchar-Izos, we can’t do better than keep on to
where it parts from the water's edge. Possibly on

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

banks less “ blufi'y ” than above where it passes the
cavern. Still they are of su cient elevation to
make a sharp descent toward the channel of the
stream. and a corresponding ascent on its opposite
Slde. But instead 0 an impediment, the trackers
find this an advantage; giving them evidence that
the Indians have gone across the arroyo. For their
horses’ tracks are distinctly traceable on the steep
faces of both banks; the dust not havin settled
gem, or been washed off by the rain Whic fell af-

r.

Without difficulty they themselves ride across; for
the rapid-running stream has returned to its ordi—
nary dimensions, and is now quite shallow, with a
firm, gravelly bed. Once on its western side. liow‘
ever, and up to the Ievel'of the compo beyond, they
are again at fault; in fact, have reached the oint
s oken of where all certaint is at an end. iaras
t _e can see before them, t e surface is smeared
Wit mud, just as behind, and no sign of a trail
visible anywhere. Like enough the Indians‘have
still continued on along the river, but that is by no

 

 

AN UNWELCOME INTRUDER.

the tram-5a which chances to be a. calit'ral as well;
We may iind’ the round clear of this detestable stair, .
and once more hit 01! the metro of these murderous I
robbers."

His young companions, alto ether guided by his-
counsels, of course ofier no ob ection; and off they.
again go up the bank of the broad deep river.

Nor less swiftly do they speed, but fast as ever.
For they are not impeded by the necessity of con--
stantly eeping their eyes upon the earth. to see if '
there be hoof-marks on it. There are none; or it
any, they are not distin uishable through the thick
stratum of slime sprea over all the surface. But
although going at a gallop, they do not get over
much ground; being every now and then compelled
to pull up—meeting obstructions they had not reck-
oned u n. These in the shape of numerous little
stream ets, flowing into the river, most of them still
in freshet from the late rain. One after another
they ford them, none being so deep as to call for
swimming. But they at length come upon one of
greater depth and breadth than any yet passed, and

l

 

 

‘

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

13

 

 

with banks of such a character as to bring them to a
dead stop, with the necessity of considering whether
it can be crossed at all. For it is a water-couise of
the special kind called ride/cos, resembling the qu/ous
of Louisiana, whose sluggish currents run in either
direction, according to the season of the year,
Whether it be flood-time, or during the intervals of
drought. _

At a glance, Gaspar perceives‘that the one now
barring their onward progress is too deep to be
waded; and if it be possmle to pass over it,
this must be by swunining, Little would they re«
gret that, nor any more would. their animals; since
the pampas horse can sw1m hke an otter, or capi-
mmz. But, unfortunately, this particular macho is
of a kind which forbids even their swimming it; as
almost at the same glance, the gauche observes,
with a grunt expressing his discontent. 0n the
stream's further shore, the bank, instead of being
on a level with the water surface, or gently shelving
away from it, rises abruptly to a hight of nigh six
feet. with no break, far as can be seen, either up—

 

plunging about, possibly in the end to go under. 0a-
gambg! we mustn’t attempt to make a crossing

ere.

“ Where then?" demands Cypriano’, in torture at
this fresh delay, which may last he knows not how
ong.

" Well,” rejoins the gaucho, reflectingly, “I think
I know of aplace where we may manage it. There's
a ford, which can’t be very far from this; but
whether it’s above or below, for the life of me I
can’t tell, everything’s so changed by that detest-
able tormmla, and the ugly coat of plasterit has laid
over the plainl Let me see,“ he adds, alternately
turning his eyes up stream and down. “ I fancy it
must be above; and now I recollect there was a tall
tree, a gizebracha not far from the ford. Hal” he
exclaims, sudden y catching sight of it, “there’s the
bit of timber itself! I can tell it by that broken
branch on the left side. You see that, don’t you,
Mics mz‘os .?”

The do see the top of a solitary tree with one
branc broken oif, rising above the plain at about

 

 

 

 

 

 

A JAGUAR ASTONISHED.

ward or downward. Any attempt to swim a horse
to the other Side, would result in his being penned
up, as within the lockvgates of a canall

It is plainly impossible for them to cross over
there; and, without waiting to reflect further, the

aucho so ronounces it; saying to the others, who
ave remained silently watching him:

“ Well, we‘ve got over a good many streams in our
.znorning‘s ride, but this one beats us. We can’t set
foot on the other side—not here, at all events."

“ Why?” demands Cyprimio. .

“Because, as you can see, o'elicrzto, that water’s
too deep for wading.” . ,

“ But what of that? We can sw1m it; can‘t we?“

"True, we could; all that and more so far as the
SWiInming goes. But once in there, how are we to
get outa ain? Look at yonder bank. Straight up
as a wal , and so smooth a cat couldn’t chmb it,
much less our horses; and no more ourselves. If
1twere a matter of. wading, we might; but, as I can
see, all along onder edge it’s just as deep as in mid-
stream; and ailing to get out, we’d have to keep on

 

two miles’ distance; and they can tell it to be the
well-known species called quahracha—an a brevi-
ation of uebrachacha, or “ax-breaker," so amed
from the iardness of its wood.

“Whether it be by wading or swimming," Gaspar
remarks in continuance, “ we‘ll get over the m‘aclzo
up yonder, or not far from that tree. So, let’s on to
it, seiim'itosf”

Without another word they all wheel their horses
about, and move oil in the direction of the que-

rac a.

CHAPTER XXII.
A risn DINNER AT SECOND-HAND.

As they make toward the tree, which has erst
served others than themselves as a guide to the
crossing-place, the nature of the ground hinders
their going at great speed. Being soft and some-
what bo gy, they are compelled to creep slowly and
cautious y over it.

But at length theyget upon a sort of ridge slightly

 

elevated above the general level, though still unsafe
for fast traveling. Along this, however, they can
ride abreast, and without fear of breaking through.

As they proceed onward, Gaspar gives them some
gurther information about the ford they are making

or.

“ We can easily wade it,“ he says, “if this awk-
ward and ill-timed dust-storm hasn’t changed it, as
everything else. When poor dear master and I went
across—that would be about six monihs ago—the
water wasn’t quite up to our stirrnps; but, like as
not, last night s down—pour has raised it too, and
we’ll haveaswim for it. Well, that won‘t matter
much. There, at all events, we can get the horses
out; as the bank slopes off gently. So there‘ll be
no fear of our being stuck or sent floundering in
the stream. Aregular Indian road crosses the M'—
auho there, and has worn a rut running down to the
channel on both sides", .

His hearers are pleased at this intelligence; Cy~
priano si nifying so by the laconic rejoinder:

“Es/a 2/2710.” _

Then follows an interval of Silence; after which
Gaspar, as if some new thought had occurred to
him, suddenly exclaims:

“ Shan D1103! I’d forgotten that."_ .

“ Forgotten what?” both inquire, With a surprised,
but not a prehensive look; for the gaucho’s words
were not in this tone. _

“Something.” he answers, “which we 0 lit to
find at this very crossing-place. A bit of go luck
it‘s being here. ’

“And what
Cy riano. ‘

‘ I expect to leam whether we’re still on the right
track, or have strayed away from it. We’ve been
going by guesswork long enough; but, if I don't
greatly mistake, we’ll there see something to tell us
whether our guesses have been good or bad. It the
red—skins have come up the river‘at all, it’s pretty
sure they also have crossed the macho at this very
ford, and we should there see some traces of them.
Sure to find them on the sloping banks, as we did by
the arroyo, That will count a score in our favor.”

By the time he has ceased speaking, the‘g have

do you expect from it?“ questions

reached the quebracfm," and, soon as uh Cr
shadow, Gaspar again reins up telling the on are
do the same. It is not that he has an busines
with the beacon tree, as with that which serVe
them for a’ barometer; but simpl , because they are
once more within sight of the s ream—but or view
since they left its bank below. The ford is also be‘
fore their eyes, visible over the tops of some low
bordering bushes.

But what has now brought the gaucho to a. stop
is neither the stream not its crossing- lace; but a.
flock of large birds wading ale-out on t ewater, at
the point where he knows the ford to be. Long-
leg ed creatures they are, standing as on stilts, and
ful five feet high, snow-White in color, all but their
huge beaks, which are jet-black, With a band of
naked skin around their necks, and a sort of pouch
like a pelican‘s this being of bright scarlet. For they
are garzones soldados, or “soldier—cranes," so called
from their red throats bearing a. fancied resemblance
to the facings on the collar of s. soldier’s coat, in the
uniform of the Argentine States.

“Bueno!” is the pleased exclamation which pro-
ceeds from the gaucho’s lips, as he sits contem-
plating the cranes. “We sha’n‘t have any swim-
ming to do here; the rain don’t seem to have deep-
ened the fora as much as a single inch. You see
those longdcfied gentry; it barely wets their feet.
So much the tter, since it insures us against get-
ting our own wetted, with our baggage to the boot.
Stayl" he adds, speaking as if rom sudden Pe-
solve; “let’s watch the birds a bit.
son.

Thus cautioned, the others hold their horses at
rest, all with their eyes fixed upon the soldier-
cranes; which still unconscious of intruders in
such close proximity, continue the occupation in
gstgch they were engaged when first seem—that of

mg.

Every now and then one darts its long bayonet-
like beak into the water, invariably drawing it out
with a fish between the mandibles; this, after a
short convulsive struggle, and a flutter or two ( f its
tail fins, disappearing down the crane’s capacious
throat.

“Having their breakfast,"cbserves the gauche,
“ or, I should rather call it dinner, ” he adds, with a
glance upward to the sky. “And the hight of that
sun reminds me of it‘s being high time for us to do
something in the same line, if I hadn’t been already
reminded of it by a. hollow I feel here. ” He laces

I’ve a rea-

»his spread palm over the pit of his stomac , and

then continues: “So we may as well dine now;
though, sad to say, we haven‘t a. morsel to make a.
meal upon but that juiceless charqui. Santissz'ma!
what am I thinking about? I verily believe my
brains have got bemuddled, like everything else.
Nothing but cltm'qui, iiideerll Ha! we’ll dine more
daintily, if I know what’s what. Here, sefiom‘tos!
back your horses behind those bushes. Quick,
gently.” ‘

While speaking. he turns his own out of the path,
and rides croucl‘iingly to the rear of the bushes inti-
mated, thus putting a screen between himself and.
the soldier-cranes.

Following his example, the others do likewise, but
without the slightest idea of what he is going to be
after next.

Cypriano inquiring, receives the very unsatisfacv
foxy answer:

‘ You‘ll see.”

And they do see; first himself (lismounting and
tying his bridle to a branch: then detaching his 1520
from its ring in the saddle-tree, and carefully ad-
justing its coils over his left arm. This done be.

r

  

14

 

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

 

separates from them, as he walks away, speaking
back in a whisper:

“Keep your ground, young masters, till I return
to you, and if you can help it, don’t let the horses
make any noise, or budge an inch. For yourselves,
silemio !”

As they promise all this, he parts from them, and
is soon out of sight; their last glance showing him
to be makin for the ford, going with bent body
and crouche gait, as cat or cougar stealing upon its

rey.

For some ten minutes or so, they neither see nor
hear more of him; and can only conjecture that the
desi n he has so suddenly conceived has something
tc o with the manner. So believing, curiosity
prompts them to ave another peep at those pisca-

ory birds, which by standing up in their stirrups—
for they are still seated in the saddle—they can.
Looking over the tops of the bushes, they see that
the cranes continue fishing undisturbed, and seem-
ingly unaware of an enemy being near or that dan-
ger threatens them.

But not much longer are they left to enjoy this
feelin of securit . While the two ouths are still
regar ingthem, st one then anot er, is observed
to elevate its head to t 9 full hight of its long,
slender neck; while here and there throughout the
flock are heard cries of warning or alarm; the
frightened ones letting fall the fish already in their
beaks, while those not quite so much scared, sud-
denly swallow them. But in another instant, all, as
if by one impulse, give out a simultaneous scream;
then, rising to ether, spread their broad, sail-er
wings, and o apping away.

No, not al . One stays in the riacho ; no ion er to
look after fish, but with both wings outsprea over
the surface of the stream, beating the water into
froth—asitdoes so, allthe while drawing nearer and
nearer to the nethei bank! But its movements are
convulsive and involuntary, as can be told by some-
thing seen around its neck resembling a rope. And
a rope it is; the youths knowing it to be the lazo
they late saw coiled over Gas ar’s arm knowin
also that he is at the other en of it. e is hau -
ing it in, hand-over-hand, till the captured bird,
passing under the high bank, disappears from their
' View.

Soon, however, to reappear; but now carried un-
der the gaucho‘s am.

He cries out as he approaches them:

“ Viva! muchaclzitos ! Give me con ratulation, as
I intend giving you a good dinner. f we can call
. chargui esh, asI suppose we must, then we shall
have fish, flesh and fowl, all the three courses. So
we‘ll dine sum tuously, after all.”

Saying whic , he draws out his knife, and cuts
open the crane’s cro , exposing to view several
goodly-sized flsh, fres as if just cleared from a

raw~net1

In ten minutes after they are frizzling over a fire;
in twenty more, to be stowed away in other stomachs
than that of the soldier-crane.

CHAPTER XXIII.
Arucxnn BY ELECTRIC sets.

Ghana’s romise to give them a dinner of the
three ortho ox courses—fish, flesh, and fowl—was
only meant in a jocular sense. For the flesh, their
stock of charm”: is not drawn 1] n; and as to fowl,
the soldier~craue would be a still more unpalatable
morsel. So it results in their dining simflly u on
fish; this not only without sauce, but swa ow st
second-hand!

While they are occupied in the eating it, the
gauche, seeming more cheerful than usual, says:

“ I’ve a bit of good news for you, hijos mz'os. '

“ Indeed! what?" is their eager inquir .

“ That we are still upon the right re The red-
Ikllullfld have gone past here, as I supposed they
no . '

“ You've discovered fresh traces of them. then?"

"I have; ever so man scratches of their horses‘
feet, where they slippe in steplping down to the
stream. Quite plain they are; could distin uish
them some way off, and with half an eye, as was
hauling in the eddado. Good news, I call it; since
we won’t have to take the back track anyhow.
What‘s before us remains to be seen. Possibly, on
the other side we may light on something else, to
tell the direction they’ve taken. So, we (i better
lose no time, but cross over.” .

Hurriedly finishing their primitive repast, they
spring back upon their rec-atlas, and ride down to the

 

for .

Once in the water, the find it not quite so shal-
low as they had suppose from seeing the gartoms
wading about with but the slightest ortion of their
shanks below the surface. or at t 0 bottom is a
substratum of mud; a soft slimy ooze, firm enough
to support the light birds, but through which t e
heavier fluadru eds, further wei htcd with them-
selves an their aggiage, sink to t ieir bellies.

Gaspar is surprise at finding the ford in this con-
dition. It was not so when he passed over it before,
and he can only account for the change by the dust
from the tormenla having been blown iii large quan-
tities into the stream, then carried down by the cur-
rent and settling over the shallow crossing-place.

Whatever the cause, they find it awkward work
to wade through the sticky slime. Still, they might
have accomplished the crossing without accident,
and doubtless would have done so, but for an im-
pediment of another kind—one not altogether unex-
pected, but far more to be dreaded than any danger
of their going head and ears over into the ooze. For
just as they have reached mid-stream, and are
a lashing and floundering on, Gaspar, who is riding
ahead, and shouting back directions to the others,
all at once finds his attention fully occupied in look-
lng to himself, or rather to his horse. For the an-

 

imal has come to a stop, suddenly and without any
restraint of the rein, and stands uttering strange
snorts, while quivering throughout every fiber of its
frame!

Glancing over his shoulder the gauche sees that
the other horses have also halted, and are behaving
in a precisely similarmanner, their riders giving ut—
terance to excited exclamations. Ludwig looks a

icture of astonishment; while, strange to say, on
8 priano's countenance, the expression is more one
o alarm] And the same on the face of the gaucho
himself; for he, as the young Paraguayan, compre-
hends the situation, and well knows what has
brought their horses so abruptly to a. halt. ‘

“What is it, Gaspar?” uestions LudWig, now
also alarmed at seeing the ot ers so.

” Eels!” e'aculates the gaucho.

“Eels! urely you’re jestingl’“ queries the in—
credulous outh.

“No, ini eed," is the hurried rejoinder. “I only
wish it were a jest. It‘s not, but a. dire, dangerous
earnest. Santissima !” he cries out, in addition, as
a shock like that of a galvanic battery causes him to
shake in his saddle, “ that‘s a lighm my ed, for sure!
They’re all round us, in scores, hundreds, thou-
sands! Spur your horses! Force them forward,
anyway! 0n out of the water! A moment wasted,
and we’re lost!“

While speaking, he digs the spurs into his own an.
imal, wit his voice also urging it onward; they
doin the same.

Bu spur and shout asthey may, the terrified
quadru eds can scarce be got to stir from the s at
where rst attacked b the electric eels. For i is
by these they are assa ed, though Gaspar has given
them a slightly diflerent name.

And just as he has said, the slippery creatures
seem to be all around them, coilin about the horses”
legs, brushing against their he lies, at intervals
using the powerful, though invisible weapon with
which Nature has provided them; while the scares
quadrupeds, instead of dashing onward to get clear
of the danger, only pitch and plum 8 about, at in-
tervals standing at rest, as if benum , or shaking
as though struck by pals —all three of them,
breathing hard and ion , t e smoke issuing from
their nostrils, with froth which falls in flakes,
whitening the water below.

Their riders are not much less alarmed; they, too,
sensibly feeling themselves aflected by the magnetic
influence. For the subtle current passing through
the bodies of their horses, in like manner, and al-
most simultaneously, enters their own. All, now
aware that thegare in real danger, are using their
utmost efforts get out of it by} spurring, shouting
to their animals, and heating t em with whatever
they can lay their hands on. ,

It isa desperate strife, a contestbetween them and
the quadrupeds, as they strive to force the latter
forward, and from out of the perilous place. I‘m-
tunately, it does not last long, or the end wouid be
fatal. After a short time, two of the three succeed
in reaching the bank: these Gaspai and Cypriano;
the gaucho, as he feels himself on firm ground, cry-

ing out:
‘Tbank the Lord for our deliverance !" '

But scarce has the thanksgiving passed his lips,
when, turning face toward the stream, he sees what
brings the pallor back into his cheeks, and a trem-
blin throughout his frame, as if he were still under
the atteiy of the electric eels. Ludmg lagging
behind, from being less able to manage his mount,
is yet several yards from the shore, and, what is
worse, not draw nearer to it. Instead, his
horse seems stuck t n the mud, and is making no
effort to advance; but totters on his limbs as
though about to lose them I And the youth appears
to have lost all control, not only of the anima , but
himself; all energy to act, sitting lollingly in his sad-
dle, as if torpid, or half-asleep!

At a glance Gaspar perceives his danger knowing
it of no common kind. Both horse and ri ex are as
powerless to leave that spot, as if held upon it in
the loop of a lazo, with its other end clutched in the
hands of a giant. .

But a lazo may also release them: and at this
thought occurrin to him opportunely, the aucho
plucks his own mm the horn of his Med 0, and
with a wind or two around his head, castsits run-
nin noose over the head of the imperiled youth
It ( rops down over his shoulders, settling around
both his arms, and tightening upon them, as Gas—
par, with a half wheel of his horse, starts off up the
sloping acclivity. In another instant, Ludwig is
jer ed clean out of his saddle, and falls with a.
splash upon the water. Not to sink below its sur-
face, however; but be drawn lightly along it, till he
is hoisted high, though not dry, u on the bank.

But the gaucho's work is stil unfinished; the
hot has yet to be rescued from his dangerous
situ tion; atask even more difficult than releasing
his rider. For all, it is not beyond the skill of (iZLS‘
par, nor the strength of his own animal. Haslin
unloosing his long, plaited rope from the body of
the boy, and readjusting the loop, he again fliiigs it
forth; this time aiming to take in, not the head of
Ludwig’s horse, but the pommel and caiitle of his
high-back saddle. And just as aimed, so the noose
is seen to fall. embracin both. For Gaspar knows
how to cast a lasso, and is horse how to act when
it is cast; the well-trained animal, soon as he sees
the uplifted arm go down again sliccring round
without any guidance of rein, an galloping off in
the opposite direction. I

In the present case his strength proves suflicient
for the demand made upon it, though this is great:
and the debilitated animal in the water, which can
do naught to help itself, is dragged to the dry land
nearly as much dead us alive

But all are saved, horses as well as riders.

 

The ‘

unseen, but dan erous, monsters are deprived of
the prey they be. come so near making capture of;
and Gaspar again. even more fervently than before,
cries out in gratitude:

“Thank the Lore’ for our deliverance!"

CHAPTER XXIV.
mar rm: onion mass.

AN attack by electric eels, however ludicrous the
thing ma seem is not so looked upon by those
whose ill lick it has been to experience it. That
these slippery creatures possess a most dangerous

wer, and know how to exert it there is ample evi-

ence in the accounts given of them by many a
truthful traveler.

More than enough of it have had our heroes; for
while escaping with their lives, they have not got off
altogether seamless—neither themselves nor their
horses. For, though now beyond reac or their
mysterious assailants, the latter stand cowering and

uivering, evidently disabled for that day, at east.

(, continue the journey upon them, While they are
in this condition, is p ainly impossible. But their
riders do not think of it; they. feeling enfcebled—
Luciwi actually iii. For the electricity still affects
them a l, and it may be some time before theirveins
will be freed from its influence.

Nolens rolem, for a. time they must stay where
they are, however they may chafe at this fresh halt
——as beforo a. forced one. But the gauche, with
spirits ever buoyant, puts the best face upon it, say-

in :

glitter all, we won’t lose so much time. By this,
our horses would have been pretty well done up,
anyhow, after such a hard day's work, floundering
through so much mud and crossing so many
streams. Even without this little bit of a bother,
we’d have had to stop soon somewhere to rest.
them. And what better place than here? Besides,
as you see, the sun’s wearing well down, and it’s
only a question of three or four hours at most. We
can make that up by an earlier start, and a. big
day’s journey, to-morrow; when it’s to be hoped
we’ll meet with no such obstructions as have beset
us to-day."

Gaspar is not using arguments; for no one wishes
tc dispute with him. Only speaking words of come
fort; more especial addressing them to Cypriano,
who is, as ever the mpatient one. But he, as the

aucho himself, sees the impossibility of proceedin
iérlhzr, till they and their animals have had a spefi
o res .

For the purpose of obtaining this, they go in
search of a suitable camping-place; which they
soon find within a grove Oi algambiizs, at some three
or foui hundred yards‘ distance from the ford. The
trees cover the sides of a. little mound, or hiliock;
none growing upon its summit, which is a grassy
glade. And as t e dust h~s either not settled on it,
or been washed off by the rain the herbage is clear
and gieen, so too the foliage o the trees overshad-
nwiniit. .

" e very place for a comfortable camp,"says
Gaspai, after insgecting it—the others agreeing
with him to the cc 0

Having returned to the ford for their horses, and
led them 11 to the chosen ground, they are pro—
ceeding to s .rip the animals of their respective ca»
parisons, when. lo! the alparajas, and other things,
which were attached to the croup of Ludwig’s sad-
dle, and should still be on, it, are not there! All are
gone—shaken off, no doubt, while the animal was
plunging about in the stream—and with as little un-
certainty now lying amid the mud at its bottom.

As in these re saddlewbags was carried their
commissarist—yer . charqui, maize bread, onions
and everything and as over the cantle

goal: hung
theii kettle, skillet, matéa and bpmbillas, t 9 loss is a
lamentable one; in bhort,leav1ng them without a
moi-sci to' eat, or a vessel to cook with, had they
comestibles evei so abundant!

At iirst they talk. of going back to the ford, and
making search for the lost chattels. But it ends
only in talk; they have had enough of that crossing-

lace, so dangerously beset by those demonic; as

asp .r in his anger dubs the electric eels. or
though his con 6 isthat of a lion, he does not de-
sire to make fiu't er acquaintance with the mysteri—
ous monsters. Besides, there is no knowing in what
particular spot the things were dropped; this also
deterring them from any attempt to enter upon:a
search. The stream at its crossing-place is quite a
hundred yards in width, and by this time the arti»
cles of metal, as the heavily-weighted saddle-bags,
will have settled down below the surface, perha s
trampled into its slimy bed by the horse himself in
his convulsive, struggles. To seek them now would
be like looking for a needle in a stack of straw. So
the idea is abandoned; and bi this night they must
resign themselves to gomg supperless.

Fortunately, none of the three feels s—hungered;
their dinner being as yet undigested. Besides, Ga..-
par is not without hope that something may turn up
to reprovision them ere the sun goes down. Just
possible, the soldiercranes may come back to the
ford and their fishing, so that another, with full
crop, may fall within the loop of his lazo.

Having" kindled aiire—not for cooking pu oses,
but to dry their ponchos, and other ap are satu-
rated in the crossing of the stream—they rst spread
everythingout', hanging them on improvised clothes-
horses constructed of cafia brava~a brake which
skirts the ad jacentstrenm. Then, overcome With fa-
iigue, and still suffering from the effects or the ani-
mal electricity, they stretch themselves alongside
the fire, trusting to time for their recovery.

N or trust they in vain. For, sooner than expected,
the volatile fluid—or whatever it may be—passes out
of their veins, and their nervous strength returns;

 

 

d of
e of ;
:"ore,

the
hose
[‘hat
rous
evi-
1y 8

for
1: off
heir
heir
and
east.
are
heir
3d—
cots
eins

iere
halt
vith
say-

his,

'ing
any
tier,
rest
ies,
it’s

big
ped
aset

ihes
om-

rti—
KS.

‘ in
uld

us’

ad ;
.8“,
up
ust

iuu

es,
,tu-
rad
les-
ich
fa-
ini-
ide

ed,
out.

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

15

 

 

even Ludwig saying he is himself again, though he
is not quite so yet.

And their animals also undergo a like rapid recov«
cry, from browsing on the leaves and beau-pods of
the algarobiat; a provender relished by all the
gampas horses. as horned cattle, and nourishing to

0th. More than this, the fruit of this valuable
tree when ripe, is fit food for man himself, and so
used in several of the Argentine States.

This fact suggestiu itself to Gaspar—as he lies

watching the horses p licking off the long siliques, ;

and reedily devouring them—he says:
“ a can make a meal on the algarobia beans, if

nothing better’s to be had. And for me, it wouldn‘t .

be the first time by scores. In some parts where I’ve
traveled they grind them like maize, and bake a
very fair sort of bread out of their meal.”

“ Why, Gasparl" exclaims Ludwig, recalling some
facts of which he had heard his father speak. “ on
talk as if you had traveled in the Holy Land an in

New Testament tiniesl These very trees, or others :

of a similar genus, are the ones whose fruit was

i is, if properly prepared for it. In the States of San-
tiago and Tucuman, which are the placesl spoke
of having traveled through, the peop o almost live
on them, rich and poor, man as well as beast. And
we may be glad to make breakfast on them, if not
supper; though I still trust something more dainty
may dro ) upon us. I’m not so hopeful as to expect
manna. ikc that which rained down upon Moses.
but there‘s many an eatablc thing to be had in this
Chaco wildemess, too~for those who know how to
look for it. A Dim!" he adds, after a pause, with
his eyes turnc toward the ford, “those iongdegged
rentry don't seem to care about coming back there.
0 doubt the screams of that fellow I throttled
have frightened them off for good. So I suppose we
must give the birds up for this night- anyhow.
Just possible in the morning they’ll be as hungry as
ourfieives, and pay their fishing—ground a very early
VlSl i.
Saying this, the gaucho relapses into silence, the
others also ceasuig to converse. They all feel a
, certain lethargy, which calls for repose, and for a

 

 

V‘— ‘ -
\\\t 7

 

§

 

 

 

 ______J

THE SOLDIER CRANES.

eaten by St. John the Baptist. You re ember that
passage where it is said: ‘his meat wamocusts and
Wild honey. Some think the locusts he ate were
the insects of that name: and it may be so since
they M0 &1_S°,68t<‘n by Arabs and certain'other
tribes of Asiatic and African people. but for my
part, I believe the brains of the ‘locust tree‘ are
meant; which, like this, is a species of acacia that
the Arabs call C'H'tI/I ; eVidcntiy the root from which
we take our word alga/ohm. “

Gaspar listens, both iaiiently and pleased, to this
learned dissertation. wt he is rejoiced to perceive
thatthe thoughts of his young com ianion are be-
ginning to find some abstraction ani forgetfulness
of that upon which they have been so long saiin
dwelling. Cyprmno, too, appears to take an in-
terest .ii the subject of discourse; and to encourage
it the gaucho rejoins, in gleeful tones:

' Well, Senor Ludwig, I don‘t. know much about
those far-away countries you speak of, for I‘ve not
had any grea deal of ac iooling. But I do know,
that aqu/rabfa beans are not. such bad eating; that

: while all three lie without speaking a word their
heads resting on their recados—the only sound heard
being the “crumpcrunip” of their horses' teeth
grinding the algarobi'a pods into pulp.

 

CHAPTER XXV.
A cru'r ABOUT mincriuo ants.
Tun silence of the camp is: not of long continu—
. ance: Gaspar being the first to break it. For the
gaucho, having a stronger stomach, and conse-
quently a quicker digestion than the others, feels
some incipient sensations of hunger.

“ I only wish," he says, “ we could get hold of one
of the brutcs that battered us so in the stream. If
| we could, it would furnish us with a supper fit for a
kin ."

“fiNhatl” exclaims Ludwig, raising his head, in
surprise, “ one of the electric eels? Is it that you’re
speaking of, Gaspar?“

“ Ay, Senorita ,' just that.“

“ Surely you wouldn‘t eat if, would you l'"

 

 

“Wouldn‘t I? If I had one here now, you‘d soon
see.

“ But are they really good to eat?"

“Good to but: I should think they are: and if
you could but taste them yourself, Senorita, you‘d
say so. A lightning cei‘s about the daintivst morsel
I ever stuck teeth into; though they do have their
dwelling place in mud. and. as some say, feed upon
it. Before cooking them, howm r, something needs
being done. You must cut away a portion of their
tiesh; the spongy part. which it‘s said gives them
power to make their lightning play. In that lies the
dam rerous stuff, whatever sort of thing it is."

“ >ut what are they like, Gaspar? I‘Ve never seen
one. ‘

It is Ludwig who still interrogates; but to his last
question Cypriano, not Gaspar, gives the answer,
so 'ing:

‘Oh, cousin! Do you mean to say you‘ve never
seen an elecric eel 1'"

“Indeed do I. I‘ve heard father speak of them
often, and I know them by their scientific name,
gymnotus. I believe there are lenty of them in the
rivers of Paraguay; but, as it c ances, I never came
across one, either dead or alive."

“ I have,“ says Cypriano. “come across more than
one, and many times. But once I well remember;
for an awkward circumstance it was to myself."

“ How so, muchaclzo F“

“Ah: that’satale I never told you, Ludwig; but
I'll tell it now, if you wish."

“ Oh! I do wish it.“

" Well, near the little village where, as you know,
I was born, and went to school before coming to live
with uncle at Assuncion, there was a pond full of
these fish. We boys used to amuse ourselves with
them; sending in dogs and pigs, whenever we had
the chance, to see the scare they would get, and how
they scam ered out soon as they found What queer
company I ey’d got into. Cniel sport it was, I ad-
mit. But one day we did even worse than frighten-
inf either dogs or pigs; we drove an old cow in, with
3 (mg rope round her horns, the two ends of which
we fastened to trees on the opposite side of the
pond, so that she had only a little bit of slack to
dance about u on. And dance about she did, as the
eels electrifle her on every side: till at last she
droppeddown exhausted, and, I sup 056, dead; since
she went right under the water, an didn‘t come up
again. I shall never forget her pitiful, ay, reproach-
fui look, as she stood up to the neck, with her head
craned out, as it making an appealto us to save her
while we only laughed the louder. Poor thingl i
can now better uudemtand the torture she must
have endured. ”

“But is that the awkward circumstance you‘ve
spoken of i"

“Oh, no. It was altogether another aflair; and
for me, as all the others, a more serious one. I
hadn‘tcome to the end of the adventure-the un—
pleasant part of it— which was the chastisement we
all got, by way of reward for our wickedness."

“ Chastisement! Who gave it to you?“

“ Our w0rthy schoolmaster. It so chanced the old
cow was his; the only one he had at the time iving
milk. And he gave us such athrashingl Ahi ma
well say, I've a lively recollection of it, so lively,
might trill ' think the punishment then received was
enough, Without the additional retribution the eels
have this day inflicted on me."

Cypriano’s narration ended, his cousin, after a
pause, again appeals to Gaspar to give him ade-
scription of the creatures forming the topic of their
conversation. To which the gauche respondssaying:

“ Well, Senor Ludwig, if you want to know what a
lightning eel is like, take one of the common kind
—which of course you’ve seen—a full-sized one;
make that about ten times as thick as it is, without
adding much to its length, and you‘ll have the thing,
near as I can think it. So much for the reptile s
bulk; though there are some both bigger round,
and longer from head to tail. As for its color, over
the back it‘s a sort of olive green—just like verba
leaves when they’ve been let stand a da ' or two
after picking. On the throat, and under t e belly,
it's paler, With here and there some blotches of red.
I may tell you, however, that lightning eels change
color same as some of the lizards; partly according
to their age, but as much from the sort of water
they‘re found in—whether it be a clear running
stream. or a muddy stagnant pond, such as the one
Senor Cypriano has spoken of. Besides, there are
several kinds of them, as we gauchos know; though,
I believe, the mam-alums are not aware of the fact.
The most dangerous sort, and no doubt the same
that‘s just attacked us, have broad heads, and wide ’
gaping mouths full of sharp teeth, with flat tails and
a pair of fins close to the nape (.f the neck. 0a-
Iumba.’ they’re ugly devils to look at, and still uglier
to have dealings with: that is, when one's in .he
water alongside themgas we ourselves know. Still
they don‘t always behave so bad, as these did to—
day. When I crossed this stream before, with the
din/70 neither he nor I felt the slightest shock to
tell 0 eels being in it. Isup ose it‘s the an‘menta
that's set them a-stirring. ike enough there‘s
some connection between their lightningand that of
the sky. If so, that's u but has q’uielu-nnd the brutes,
and made them so mad. Well,‘ he addsas if draw-
ing his account to a conclusion, “mad as they are,
I‘r like to have one fi'izziiig over this fire."

“But who eats tln-in, Gaspar?" interrogates Lud-
wing, still incredulous on the question of their being
a tarticle of diet. I‘ve never heard of their being
eaten, nor brought to market like other fish.“

“Hundreds, thou~ands of people eat them, hUO
min. They'rein great request in some places; ay,
all over thecountry. Both whites and Indians relish
them; but more especially the red-skins. Some
tribes pnfer them to any other food, be it t‘lsli,

 

16

 

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

 

 

flesh, or fowl; and make a regular business of
catching them.”

“ Ah: how are they caught?"

“There are various ways; but the usual one is by
spearing them. Sometimes the slippery fellows
g ide out of their mud beds and come to the surface

of the water, as it were to amuse themselves by
havinga look round. Then the fisherman gets a
chance at them, without any searching, or trouble.
He is armed with a long pole of cmla bravo, one end
having an iron point barbed like a spear. This he
launches at them, just as I’ve heard say Whalers do
_their har oons. For, if he kept the shaft in his
hands, he d catch it from their lightning, and get
strokes that would stagger him. Still, he doesn’t let
go altogether- as there’s a. cord attached to the
spear, and with that he can haul in the fish, if he
has struck it. But he must have a care to keep his
cord out of the water; if it gets wetted he’ll have a
fit of the trembles upon him, sure. For its a fact—
and a curious one, seflaritos—that a dry cord won't
conduct the eel’s lightning, while a wet one will.”

“I t is a fact,” says Ludwig, indorsing the state
ment. “ I’ve heard father speak of it.”

“ Ver singular," observes Cypriano.

“An” I can tell you another fact," pursues the

ancho, “that you‘ll say is still more singular.

ould you believe, that tram one of these fish a
man may strike sparks, just as by a. flint and steel—
ay, and kindle a. fire with theml I know it‘s an old
story, about fish having what’s called phosphorus in
them; but it isn’t everybody who knows that real
fire can be got out of the lightning eels.”

“But can that be done, Gaspar?" asks Ludwig.

“Certainly itcan. I‘vescenitdone. And he who
did it was your own dear father, Senor Ludwig. It
was one day when we were out on a- ramble, and
caught one of the eels in a pool where it had got

enned up by the water having dried around it.
‘ he duerio took out a piece of wire, and with one
end tickled the eel; the other end being stuck into
some gunpowder, which was wrapped loosely in a
piece of Paper. The powder flas ed, and set the
pa er ab aze, as also some leaves and dry sticks
we (1 laid aroundit. Soon we had a, fire; and on
that same flre we broiled the eel itself, and ate it.
P0120138! ] only wish we had one broiling over this
fire. I'd want no better thing for suppfler."

So ended the chat about electric ee , the subjrct
seeming exhausted. Then the conversation chang-
ing to other and less interesting to ics, was soon
after brought to alclose. For the dar ness was now
down, and as their ponchos, and other softer goods
had become thoroughly :lry, there was no reason
why they should not go to rest for the night. But
since the soldier-cranes had declined coming back-
by this time no doubt roosted in some far-off
“cranery"—and no other source of food supply
ggeriaixgd they must needs go to bed supperless, as

ey .

 

CHAPTER XXVI.
NOTHING FOR BREAKFAST.

UNDER the shadow of the algm'obias the trackers
sleep undisturbed. Ludwig, however, has troubled
dreams in which gymnoti lay a conspicuous part.
He imagines himself still oundering amidst these
monsters, assailed from all sides by their galvanic
batteries, and that they have dragged him down
into the mud. where he is fast getting asphyxiated.
When in his last gasp, as it were, he is relieved by
awaking from his uneasy slumbers; which he does
suddenly, and with a terrified cry.

Finding it has been all a dream, and glad to think
it so, he says nothing; and the others not having
heard his half-stifled cry, soon again fall asleep.
This time his slumber is lighter, as also more ro-
found; and, on the whole, he has a tolerable ni, t’s
rest; in the morning feeling fairly refreshed, as ike~
wise do Cypriano and Gaspar.

All three are astira good half-hour before there
is any sign of day; and their camp-fire is rekindled.
This not for culinary purposes—since they have
nothing to be cooked—~but rather because the air is
chilly cold, as it often is in the tropics, and they
need to warm themselves before setting about
au‘gvht else. .

V hen warmed, however, they be in to think of
breakfast, as also to talk about it. but is it to be,
or of what consist, are the questions which interest
them Without bemg easily answered. There are
the algarobia beans; but their skillet has been lost
along with the kettle, and there is left them no

. utensil in which these legumes might be boiled.

' True, the can roast them in the ashes; but
Gas ar sti l clings to the idea that something more
toot ful may turn up. As the early dawn is the
best time to find wild animals abroad, both birds
and quadrupeds—the best also for approaching
them—the gaucho feels pretty confident either one
or other will stray within reach of their guns, bolas,
or lazos.

In the end it proves that his confidence has not
been misplaced. Just as the first red rays of the
Aurora are reflected from the to s of the trees
around their camp, more faintly ighting up the
lower level of the pampa beyond, Gaspar peering
through a break between the branches of the all/1a—
o‘obias, sees a brace of large birds moving about over
the plain. Not soldier-cranes, though creatures
with necks and legs quite as long; for they are
r (was.

“ Gracia/5 (1', Dias,m is the gaucho’s gratified ex-
clamation at sight of them; continuing in low tone,
and speaking over his shoulder, “ A couple of ares.
tmz.’ ’

The others gliding up to him, and looking through
the leaves, also behold the birds, seeing them from
head‘to foot. For they are out upon the open

to ick up some morsel of food, or it may be but a
pegble to aid in the digestion of what they have al-
ready eaten. ' While thus engaged, they are gradu-
ally drawing nearer to the bank of the Mag-ho, as
also the edge of the algarobm grove in which the
trackers are encamped. Their proximity to the lat.
ter most interests those in the camp, and all three
instantly lay hold of their guns, which luckily have
been re oaded, two of them with ball. Gaspar fore-
most of the trio has got his barrel through the
branches, and, seeing that the Meas are now within
bullet-range, is about to blaze away at the one near-
est, which chances to be the cock bird, when the
latter, suddenly elevating its head, and uttering a
loud hiss succeeded by a snort, as from a badly-
blown trumpet, turns tail and makes off over the

lain: its mate turning simultaneously, and legging
it alongside! All this to the surprise of the gaucho;
who knows that he has not exposed his person and
sees that neither have the others, nor yet made any
noise to account for the behavior of the birds.

“ What can have frightened them?”is the ques~

of smoke risingit spirally against the lighter blue
background of s y. But now they appear to regard
it less with alarm than curiosity; and even this
after a time wearing off, they once more lower their
beaks, and return to browsing, just as a couple of
common geese, or rather a goose and gander. For
all, they do not yet seem quite tranquilized, every
now and then their heads going up with a sudden
ness, which tells that their former feeling of secu-
rity is not restored; instead, replaced by uneasy sus-
picions that thin s are not as they ought to be.
"Our guns wil be of no use now,’ says Gaspar,
laying his own aside. “ I know the nature of avesrmz
well enough to say for certain that. after the scare
they‘ve had they’ll stay shy for several hours, and
’twill be impossible to approach them; that is, near
enough for the longestrrango gun we’ve 0t. And
to run them down with our horses would a to lose
a day’s journey at least. We can’t afford. that, for
the sake of a bit of breakfast. No, ’twould never

 

do. We’ll have to go without, or else, after all,
break our fast upon these beans."

 

 

 

 

 

 

tion he would ask, when casting his eyes upward he
perceives what has done it—the smoke of their camp
firel The blue stream ascending over the tops of
the trees, as if out of a. chimney, had just then, for
the first time, been caught sight of by the ostriches,
sending them off in quick scare. Nor Strange it
should, being a spectacle to which the wild denizens
of the Ohaco are not accustomed, or only familiar
w1th as denoting an enemy near—their greatest
enem , man.

“ aldita sea J" exclaims the gaucho, as the birds
Show their backs to him, an exclamation morally the
reverse of that he uttered on seeing them with heads
turned the opposite way. “ That confounded fire]
what a pity we kindled itl the thing‘s done us out of
our breakfast. Stayl no."

The negative ejaculation comes from his perceiv-
ing that the ostriches, instead of rushing onward in
long ra id strides, as they had started, are gradually
shorten ng step and slackening the pace. And while
he continues looking after them, they again come to a.

 

ground, striding to and fro, now and then pausing

stop, and stand gaining back at the dark blue pillar

 

SAVED BY THE LASSO.

Sayin§ which, he glances up to the dig/aromas, from
which t 9 long siliques droop down in profusion,
more plentiful than temptin 0 him.

“ Caspian!” he resumes. a ter a pause, once more
bending his eyes covetously upon the birdsz and as if
an idea. had suddenly occurred to him. ‘ I think I
know of a way by which we may circumvent these
two tall stalkers."

“ How?“ eagerly asks Cypriano.

“B going at them—gammeando."

“ rm-zmwzmzlo l"exclai1ns Ludwi inecho. “Good
Gas ar, whatever do you mean by t at?”

“ ou’ll see, young master, soon as I’ve made things
read for it. And your cousin here, he’s the fittest
for t ie part to be played. I‘d undertake it myself,
but I’m a bit too bulky to counterfeit a. creature of
such slender proportions as the arztm soldada;
while fienor Cypriano’s figure wil just suit to a.
nicet .

Neither of the two youths has the slightest idea
of what the gaucho designs doing; but, accustomed
to his quaint, queer ways, and knowing that what,

 

 

 

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

17

 

.

eyer he intends is pretty sure to be something of ser-
Vice to them—as likely to have a successful issue—
they await his action with patience and in Silence.

CHAPTER XXV'II.

A COUNTERF'EIT CRANE.

GASPAR allows no time to be lost, but instantly

commences taking measures for the garzmvezmrlo—

Whatever that may be. As yet neither of his young

companions has been told what it is, though they
soon begin to have a guess._

g While they stand watching, they see him once

 

more plunge his hand into those capacious saddle-
bags, where for a time it rummages about. When
,drawn out again it is seen to gras a folded bundle
of soft goods, which, on being she en open, shows
to be ashirt. No common cotton thing, however,
but an affair of the finest linen, snow-white, with an
embroidered bosom and ruffles; in short, his gala
shirt, such as are worn by gauchos when they ap—
pear at fiestas and fandan oes.

h“A pity to use my bes camisa for such a pur‘

 

ing the surface black, at the same time paring the

stick to a sharp point. With some wet gun owder

he further blackens it; then placing the thick end

against Cypriano’s forehead, e binds it fast with a

gece of rawhide thong, the last carried around and
mly knotted at the back of the neck.

A few more touches and the toilet is complete;
transforming Cypriano into what, at a distance,
might be supposed a soldier-crane] At all events,
the ostriches Will so suppose him, as Gaspar knows,
for he is but, copying a scheme often practiced by
South American Indians for the capture of these
shy birds.

“ lib/y Inter [‘j he exclaims, as he stands contem-
plating his finished task. ‘ By my word, munhacho
mzo, you look the character to perfection. And if
you act it cleverly, as I know you can and will, we'll
make breakfast on something better than beans.
Now, senorito, you’re in costume to go garzoneando.”

Long ere this, Cyplriano has come to comprehend
what is requued of 1m, and is quite e er to have a
try at the ruse so cunningly contrive . Declaring

 

 

 

 

 

 

HUNTING THE TRAIL.

ose " he observes. while in the act of unfoldin it.
‘ Still it won’t likely get much dama e; and a wgsh
with a bit of starch, will set it all rig t a ain." ,

Then turning to Cypriano. he adds: “ ow, senor-
ito, be good enough to strip on: everything and
draw this over your shoulders.” '

Without a word of protest, or objection, the
young Paraguayan does as requested, and is soon
inside the holiday shirt; his own having been laid
aside, as also his juquela calzoncras and every other
article of dress worn by im.

Meanwhile Gaspar has been en aged getting
ready several other things for the c ange of 00s
tume intended; one of these being a silk handker-
chief of a bright scarlet color, alsotaken out of the
inexhaustible alparejas. This he ties about Cypri-
ano’s neck, not as an ordinar cravat, but loosely
folded, so as to expose a brea th of several inches
all round.

The gaucho’s next move is to snatch from ed the
fire. one of the fagots still only half-censumed ; from
which With his knife he scrapes the red coal, leav-

 

himself ready to start out, it but remains to be de-
Clded what wea on he ought to take with him. For
they have the t ree kinds——gun, bolas and law ; and
in t 9 use of the two last he is almost as skilled as
the gauche himself.

“The gun mi ht be the readiest and surest,“ re-
marks Gaspar: ‘and it will be as well to have one
with you, in case of your not getting a good chance
to cast either of the others. But just now the less
noise that’s made the better. Who knows but that
some of these traitorous red-skins may be still strag-
gling about? Hearing shots the ’d be sure to come
up to us, which we don’t want, t on h ever so much
Wishing to come up with them. T erefore, I say,
use eit er the balls or the rope."

; “All the same to me.” observes the young Para-
gua an. “Which do you think the better?"

“ he bolas, decidedly. I’ve known the laza slip
over an ostrich's head, after the noose had been
round its neck. But once the cord of the bolas gets
a turn round the creature'sshanks it’ll go to grass
without making another stride. ake this set of

 

mine. As you see, they're best boliadorrs, and you
can throw them with surer aim.”

The weapon which the gauche hands to him dif—
fers from the ordinary bolas, in having a longer
stretch of cord between the balls; but Cypriaiio is
himself as well acquainted with thiskind as with the
other, and can cast them as skillfully.

Taking hold of the weapon, along with his double-
hari‘eled gun, and concealing both as be best can
under the gaucho’s shirt, he starts off upon the
stalk: for he now knows what he has to do, without
any further instruction from Gaspar. It is simplya
question of getting near enough to one of the birds
to make capture of it with the balladores ; or failing
this, bring it down with a bullet—one barrel of his
gun being loaded with ball.

As he goes off, Gaspar and Ludwig looking after
him can see that his chances of success are good.
For by this time the films have pretty well recovered
from their scare, and are again tranquilly striding
about. Moreover, they have moved somewhat
nearer to the bank of the iicclw, where a bordering
of leafy ever reens offers to the stalker cover of the
best kind, aking advantage of it, he, in the guise
ofa Wl'ZOn, steps briskl on, and steals in.among
the bushes. There he is or a time unseen, either b
those watching him from the summit of the kno ,
or the creatures being stalked. The_latter have .al-
ready noticed the counterfeit, but without showmg’
any signs of fear; no doubt supnosmg it to be what
it pretends—a bird as themse ves, with neck and
legs as long as their own. But no enemy; for often
have they passed over that same plain, and fed in a
friendly way alongside soldier‘cranes—scores of
them. Even when this solitary specimen again ap-
pears by the skirting of the scrub within less than
twenty paces of them they do not seem at all
alarmed, though possibly a little surprised at its be-
ing there all alone.

Nor do they make any attempt to stir from the
5 Vet, till a movement on the part of the garzon, with

me estures that seem odd to them, excite their
suspicions afresh; then raisin their heads, and
craning out their long necks, t ey regard it with
wondering glances. Only for an instant; when
seeming at last to ap rehend danger, the birdsutter
a hiss, as if about to eat a retreat.

For one of them it is too late, the cock which
chances to be nearest the bushes, and who before
he can lift a leg feels both embraced by something
which lashes them tightly together, while at the
same time something else hits him a hard heavy
blow, bowling him over upon the grass, where he
lies stunned and senseless.

“ Bueno! Bravo !” simultaneously shout Gaspar
and Ludwig, the two together mshing down from
the hillock, and on for the prostrate rhea ; while the
counterfeit crane comes forth from the bushes to
meet them, as he draws near, saying:

“I could have shot the hen, but for what you said,
Gas at, about making a noise."

“ o matter for the hen," re'oins the gaucho.
“ We don‘t want herjust now. T is beauty will not
only give us enough meat for breakfast, but provide
dinnegs and suppers for at least a. couple of days to
come.

So saying, he draws his knife across the rhaa'a
throat, to make sure before releasing its le s from
the thong. After which the boliadores are de ached;
and the huge carcass, almost as heavy as that of a
fatted calf, is carried in triumph to the camp

CHAPTER XXVIII.
run AVESTRUZ.

SOON after the trio of trackers have redntered the
alga/rabid grove, a frizzling, sputtering noise is heard.
therein; while an appetizmg odor spreads all
around, borne afar on the balmy breeze of the
morning. Both the sound and the smell proceed
from some choice tidbits which Gas ar has taken
from the body of the great bird —chie y slices from
the thigh-bone and breast.

, By the time Cypriano has doffed tho masquerad-
ing dress, and ‘resumed his proper traveling cos-
tume, the cooking is done, and breakfast declared

 

rea y. v ,

While eating it, by way of accompaniment, they
naturally converse about the bird. Not the par
ticular one which exclusively forms their repast,
but of ostriches in general, and more especially
those of South America commonly called Hires;
though to the gauchos better known by the name
avash‘uz. ,

Both the boys are pretty well acquainted lwith
these birds and their habits; Cypriano having several
times taken part in their chase; while Ludwig best
knows them in a seientific sense. Still there are
many of their ways, and strange ones, of which nei-
ther one nor the other has ever heard, but that Gas-
par has been witness to_With his own e es. It is the
gaucho, therefore, whogmparts most 0 the informa-
tion, the others being little more than listeners.

“Though the thing isn‘t generally known,“ he
says, “ there are several distinct kinds of uresz‘mz in
different 'arts of the country. Of myself I’ve seen
three, irst, a very small sort, not much bigger
than a turkeypocka It‘s darker colored than the
kind we‘re eating, With shorter legs and feathered
further down. It don‘t lay so many eggs either;
but. strange to say, they are almost as big as those
of the other sort, only different] shaped. and with
a tinge of blue on the shell. It, saw when I once
went on an expedition with the Bueuos A res
army down south to the lains of Patagonia. 'l‘ ere
the chmate is much co der than up here, and the
«regime pause, as the bird‘s called, seems to like that
best; Since it’s never seen on the warm pampas fur-
ther north. _ On the other hand, the sort we have
here, which is the biggest of all, never strays down

 

    

18

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

 

 

to these very cold districts, but goes all over
the Chow country, where it's hottest. The third
kind I’ve seen is in bulk about midway between the
two; but it’s a very rare bird, and I believe not
known to the learned naturalist“. Isn’t that so,
Senor Ludwig?”

“Indeed yes. I never heard of a. third species,
though father has told me of the arestl'uz perm ;
which, as you say, is only found far south. ranging
from the Rio Negro to the Straits of Magellan."

“ Well,” continues Gaspar, resuming his account,
“I’m sure of there being three sorts: thou ‘h I don’t
know much about the other two, only t is we’ve
met here. Of them I ought to known. good deal,
having hunted them as often as there are days in
the year. One thing there‘s been no end of dis u-
tation about; and that is whether several hens ay
their eggs in the same nest. Now, I can say for
certain they do. I’ve seen several go to the same
nest, one after the other, and on the same day, too.
What should take them there if not to lay their
eggs? True, they drop them about everywhere, in
a very loose, careless wa ; as can be told by their
being seen scattered a over the ammo, and far
from an nest. What this is for I can’t m self tell;
though ’ve heard some gauchos sa t at these
stray eggs—~Izuachos we call them—are aid here and
there for the young birds to feed upon. But that
can‘t be, since the huaohas are never found packed
or broken, but always whole, whether they be fresh
or addled. I think it‘s more likel that the hens
drop those stray eggs because they ave no nest in
which to put them ' that where they have laid their
others being alrea y full. Besides, there is the cock
sitting upon it; who won’t let any of them come
near, once he has taken to hatching.”

“ Is it true, then, that thecock does the hatching?"
interrogates Ludwi .

“ Quite true—all of it; and he’s got a good man
eggs to cover. I’ve counted over fifty in one use .
T at of itself shows no sin 1c hen could have laid
them; for, as it would take ier along time, the first
ones would be rotten before the last came. As for
the cock when sitting, he’s as cross as an old duck
doing the same, but ten times more dangerous to go
near. I’ve known of a gaucho getting a kick from
one he’d started from oil! the nest, almost as hard
as if it had been given bya mule. And to hear
them hiss then! Ah! that was nothing we’ve just
heard from this fellow.”

“Is it true that they can swim, Gaspar?” again
questions Ludwig.

“Like swans. No, I’m wrong there, for nothing
can be more unlike. So far as the swimming goes,
the avestruz can do it, but. in quite a different way
from swans. They swim with their bodies under
water, and onl their shoulders with the head and
neck, above. t's a funny sig t to see a flock of
them crossing one of the big rivers; and scores of
times I’ve been eye-witness tothat bit of comicality.
C’ammba/ acurious bird, the arestmz is altogether,
and a useful one, as we‘ve now ood reason to know.
So, senoritos, let us be thankt‘u to Providence that
there’s such a plant of them on these pampas, and,
above all, for so guiding the steps of this fine 5 eci—
men as to place it so directly and opportune y in
our way.” ' _

The iscourse about OStI‘IChBSlS brought to a close
with the breakfast upon that which had led to it;
both, along with the incident of the bird’s capture,
having occupied little more time than is here taken
in telhng of them. So little, indeed, that the sun‘s
disk is not et all above the horizon, when, having
completed t e repast, the trackers start up from
their seats aroum the fire and proceed to capari‘
soning their animals.

Nor do the spend many moments at this. Ever
mindful of w at has brought them thither—no mere
excursion for pleasure‘s sake, but an expedition
forced Upon them through sad, ainful necessity——
they waste not asecond that can 8 saved. Quickly,
therefore, their horses are got under saddle, and
bridled, with eve article of their impedimrnta
fixed and fastene‘ in its respective place, besides
somethin on the croup of Ludwi ’s moat/o which
was not therto there. Where t elost traps had
been carried are now seen the two thighbones of
the cock ostrich, with most of the flesh still adher-
ing, each as large as aleg of mutton. There is a
heart, liver and gizzard also stowed away in a wrap
of the oihao, or wild plantain leaves, which, tied in
a secure packet,dangles alongside; the whole. as

A Gaspar declared, enough to keep them provisioned

for at least a couple of days.

But although eve thing seems in readiness, they
are not yet prepare to take a final departure from
the place. A matter remains to be determined, and
one of the utmost im ortance—being no less than
the direction in whic they should go. They have
thought of it the night before. but not till darkness
had come down upon them. Still unrecovered from
the excitement consequent on the attack of the
gymnoti and afterward occupied in drying their wet

arments, with other cares of the occasion, oven
saspar had failed during daylight to examine the
nether side of the ford at its outcoming. where he
supposed he might hit upon the trail they were in
search of. It was not because he had forgotten it,
but that, knowing they would sfav there all night,
he also knew the tracks, if any, would keep till the
morning.

Morning having arrived, from earliest daybreak
and before, as is known, they have been otherwise
been nail; and only now, at the moment of moving
off, 0 they find time to look for that which must
decide their future course and the route they are to
take.
With a artlng glance at the place of bivouac,
and each ending is own horse, they move out
of the «(gamma grove, and on down to the edge of

I

 

 

the Macho, stopping at the spot where they came
across.

But not a moment s end they there, in the search
for hoof—marks othert an those of their own horses.
They see others soon as arrived at the stream’s edge;
scores of them, and made by the same animals they
have been all along tracking. Not much in this it
might appear ' since, unfortunately, these hoof-
marks can be distinguished no further than to the
summit of the sloping bank. Beyond they are
covered up, as elsewhere, by the mud. But Gas-
par’s keen eye is not to be thus bathed; and a joyful
ejaculation escaping his lips, tells that he has dis-
covered something which ives him gladness. On
Cypriano asking what it is, e makes answer:

‘ Just what we’re wanting to find out; the route
the red-skins have taken after parting from this
place. Thanks to the Virgin, I know the way they
went now, as well as if I’d been along with them."

“How do you know that?” questions Cypriano,
who, with Ludwig, had been examining the Indian
trail down by the water's edge—apart from the

 

behind. And after regarding them fora time with
sad lances, Ludwig turns away sighing, while his
cousm gives utterance to what more resembles a
curse, accom anied by Words breathing vengeance
against the a ductors.

Refoining the gaucho, all three mount into their
sadd es; and, .thhout further dallying, ride ofi
down the macho, to make back for the main river.

But, again upon the lattor’s bank, they find the
trail blind as before, with nothing to guide them,
says the stream itself. To the gaucho, however,
this seems sufficient, and turning his horse‘s head
upward, he cries out:

‘l‘ lflpw, mmhachas mics! we must on to the sali-
m .

And _on for this they ride; to reach the point
where it commences, just as the sun’s lower limb
touches, seeming to rest on, the level line of the
horizon.

And now. having arrived on the edge of the cali-
tl‘gcl, they make halt, still keeping to their saddles,
With eyes bent over the waste which stretches far

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

IN THE SACRED TOWN.

gancho, who had followed it up to the summit of the , beyond and before them. Greater than ever is the

slo )e.

‘ Come hither!” he calls out. “Look thercl” he 
adds, as they get beside him. “You see that these
tracks have the toes all turned down-stream; which
tells me the horses did the same, and, I should say, .
also their riders. Yesl Soon as out of the water 1
they turned down; Eroof good as positive that i
they’ve one along t e riawho this Side, and back 3
againto be big river. So it’s no use our delaying ,
longer here; there‘s nothing further to be learnt or
gained by it. ” i
So says Gaspar; but Cy riano, and also Ludwig, ‘

l

 

think otherw1se. Both ave a wish—indeed, an
earnest desire—once more to look upon the tracks
of the pony on which they know Francesca to have
been mounted. And communicating this to the
gauche. he holds their horses while they return to
Search for them.

To their satisfaction they again beheld the diminu- ,
tive hoof—marks; two or three of which have es- ‘
caped being trampled out by the horses that came [

gloom in their looks as they behold the sterile tract.
which should have shown snow-white all black and
forbidding. For the ralitral, as all the rest of the
compo, 18 covered with a stratum of mud, and the
travesia across it has been altogether obliterated.
Gaspar only knows the place where .t be ins; this
by the bank of the river which there aso com-
mences its curve, turning abruptly off to the south.
He thinks the route across the salitral is due west-
ward, but he is not sure. And there is no sign of
road now, not a trace to indicate the direction.
Lookin west, with the sun’s disk right before their
faces, t iey sec nothin but the brown bald ex-
Eanse, treeless as cheer ess, with neither break nor
ush, stick nor stone, to relieve the monotony of its
surface, or serve as a landmark for the traveler.
And the same thing both to the right and left, far
as their e es can reach; for here the river, after
turning o , has no longer a,skirting of trees; its
bank beyond being a ow-lying sanne marsh—in
short, a part of the saline]. To ride out upon that

l ._

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

'19

 

 

wilderness waste, to all appearance endless. with
any chance or hope of finding the way across it,
would be like embarking in an open boat, and steer-
inglstraight for the ocean.

i at on that night, anyhow, do they intend mak-
ing the attempt, as the darkness will soon be down
upon them. So dismounting from their horses,
they set about establishing a camp.

But when established they take little delight in its
occupation. Now more than ever are_ they doubt-
ful and dejected; thinking of that terrible travesia,
of which all traces are lost, and none may be found
beyond. To Cypriano n0 night since their starting
out seemed so long as this.

Little dream they while seated around their
camp-fire, or lying sleepless alongside it, that the
tract‘of country they so much dread entering upon,
Wlll, in a few hours’ time, prove their best friend.
instead of sending them further astray it will put
them once more on the lost trail, with no longer a
likelihood of their again losing it.

Unaware of this good fortune before them, they
seek rest with feelings of the utmost despondency,
and find sleep only in short snatches.

CHAPTER XXIX.
ON THE SALITRAL.

Nnx'r morning the trackers are up at an early
hour—the earlier because of their increased anxiety
—and after breakfasting on broiled ostrich leg, make
ready to recommence their journey.

Nolens calms, they must embark upon that brown,
limitless expanse, which looks unattractive in the
light of the rising sun as it did under that of the set-

mg.
In their saddles, and gazing over it before setting
out, Gaspar says:

“Hiios mics; we can‘t do better than head due
westward. That will bring us out of the salitral
somewhere. Luckily there 5 a sun in the sky to hol
us to a straight course. If We hadn’t that for a
guide, we might go zi -zag ng all about, and be
obliged to spend anigh ami t the saltpeter‘ per-
haps three or four of them. To do so would to
ris our liveS' probsbl lose them. The thirst of
itself would kill us, for t ere‘s never drinkable water
in a salitral. However, with the sun behind our
backs, and we’ll take care to keep it so there won’t
be much danger of our sett bewildered. We
must make haste tho 1:. noel mounts above our
heads, I defy Old Nic himself to tell east from
west. So let‘s put on the best speed we can take out
of the legs of our animals.“ .

With this admonition and a word to his horse, the
gaucho goes oil at a lop; the others starting sim-
ultaneousljy at the same pace, and all three riding
side b si e. For on the smooth, 0 11 surface of
the so find there is no need for trave ing single file.
Over ita thousand horsemen—or ten thousand for
that matter—might march abreast, With wide spaces
between. ' .

Proceeding onward, they leave behind them three
distinct traces of a. somewhat rare and original kind
—the reverse of what would be made by travelers
passing over ground thinly covered with snow, where

he trail would be darker than the surrounding sur-
face. Theirs, on the contrary, is lighter colored—in
point of fact, to white. from the saltpeter tossed
to the top by t a boots of their galloping horses.

The gauc 0 every now and then casts a glance
over his shoulder, to assure himself of the sun 5 disk
being true behind their backs; and in this manner
they Brass 011. Still keeping up the pace at which
the ad started.

'1‘ ey have made something more than ten miles
from the goint where they entered upon the
salilrnl ,- an Gaspar begins to 100k inquiringly
ahead, in the hope of sighting a tree, ridge rock, or
other landmark to tel where the tl'avngia temp
hates. His attention thus occupied, _he for awhile
forgets what has hitherto been engaging it—the po-
sition of the sun.

And when next he turns to observe the great in-
minary, it is only to see that it is no ion or there-—
at least no ion or visible. A mass of dar .cloud has
drifted across fits disk, com leter obscuringI it. In
fact, it was the sudden dun-Boning of the 3 Y. and.
as a conse uence, the shadow coming over the plain
before his ace, which prompted him to turn round
—recalling the necessity of caution as to their
course.

“ Santos Dias!“ he cries out, his own brow become
ingl shadowed as the sky; “our luck has left us;
am —

“And what?" asks Cypriano, seeing that the
aucho heSitates, as if reluctant to say why fortune
as so suddenly forsaken them. “There's a cloud

come over the sun; has that anything to do with it?"

“Everything, Senorito. If that cloud don‘t pass
off again we’re 8-5 good as lost. And," he adds, with
eyes still turned to the eastnhis glance showing him to
feel the gravest apprehenSlon. “I am pretty sure it
won‘t pass off—for the rest of this day at all events.
Mira J It’s movnig‘along the horizon—still rising up
and spreading out! ' O

The others also perceive this, they too having
halted, and faced to eastward.

“ Sim/mima J” continuestlie gaucho in the same
serious tone, “ we’re lost qs 26 15mm /”

” But how lost?” inqmres Ludwig .who with his
more limited «xperience of pampas life, is uzzled
to understand what the gauche means. “ u what,
way i

“Just because there’s no 1001/. That’s the very
thing we’ve lost, senorito. Look around] Now,
can you tell east from west, or north from south?
No, not a single point of the compass. If we only
know one, that would be enough. But we don’t,
and, therefore, as I’ve said, we’re lost—dead down.
right lost; and, for anything heyon‘l this, we 1] have

 

 

to go‘a-groping. At a. crawl, too, like three blind
cats ‘

“ Nothing of the sort!" breaks in Cypriano. who,
a little apart from the other two, has been for the
last few seconds to all appearance holding commun-
ion with liimself. “ Nothing of the sort,” he re-
peats, riding toward them with a cheerful expres-
sion. “ We’ll neither need to go groping, Gaspar,
nor yet at a crawl. Possibly, we may have toslacken
the pace 8. bit: but that’s all.”

Both Ludwig and the gauche, but especially the
latter, sit regarding him with puzzled looks. For
what can he mean? Certainly something which
promises to release 'them from their dilemma, as
can be told by his smiling countenance and confident
hearing. In line, he is asked to explain himself, and
answering, says: I

” Look back along our trail. Don’t you see that
it runs straight?”

“ We do.” replies Gaspar, speaking for both. “ Tn
a dead right line, thank the sun for that; and I only
wish we could have had it to direct us a little longer,
instead of leaving us in the lurch us it has done.
But go on, sefioritol I oughtn’t to have interrupted

on.

" Well," proceeds the young Paraguayan, “ there's
no reason why we shouldn’t still travel in that same
right line—since we can.”

“ llal” ejaculates the gancho, who has now
caught the othei"s meanin , “ I see the whole thing.
Bravo, Senor Cyprianol ou’vc beaten me in the
craft of the am as. But I’m not jealous—no.
Only proud to bin my own pupil has shown him-
self worthy of his teacher. Gracias d Dias!"

Durln all this dialogue Ludwig is silent, seated in
his sad lo, a very picture of astonishment, alike,
wondering at what his cousin can mean, and the
{joyous enthusiasm it has elicited from the gnucho’s

ps. His wonder is brought to an end, however, by
Cypriano turning round to him, and givnig him the
explanation in detail. .

‘ Don't you see, sobrino mio that one of us can
stay by the end of the trail we ve already made, or
two for that matter, while the third rides forward?
The others can call r to keep him in a straight
line and to the course. The three of us following
one another, and the last giving directions from our
trail behind we can’t possibly go astray. Thanks
to that white stufl, our back—tracks can be seen
without difficulty, and to a. sufficient distance for
our pu one."

Long ofore Cypriano had reached the end of his
ex lanatory discourse, Ludwig, of quick wit too,
on hes his meaning and with an enthusiasm equal-
ing that of the gaucho, cries out:

' Viva, 30691710 mlo/ You’re a genius I"

Nota moment more is lost or spent upon that
spot' Ludwig being the one chosen to lead olT, the
gauche following, with a long space between them,
while the rear is brought up by Cypriano himself‘
‘iiivho,tfor this go, and not Gaspar, acts as guide and

irec or.

 

CHAPTER XXX.
TRAVELING unnnn.

AN odd spectacle the trio of trackers would aflord
to any one seeing them on the salitral now, without
knowing what they are at; one riding directly in the
wake and on the track of the other, with over a
hundred yards between each pair. And, as all are
going at full gallop, it might be supposed that the
foremost is eeing from the other two—one of the

ufiugil‘s having a. blown horse and fallen hopelessly

e n

Nor do they roceed in silence. Instead, the hind-
most is he to utter loud shouts which the one
midway repeats salt in echo: while he ahead alone
says nothing. Even this would strengthen the sup-
position of its bein a chase; the pursued party
3 echless from the tensity of his fears, and the
e orthe is makin toescape his‘puisuers.

One near enoug , however, to note the expression
upon the faces of all three, and hear the words
spoken, would know that the three galloping horse-

rmen, thoufilh oddly apart, are in friendly communi-

cation wi one another. Since in their shouts,
though loud, is nothin to tell of hostility or anger.
Nor at any at v ety of speech— only the two
W0 .8. “ h “ and “left;“ these uttered at short
but irregu al‘ intervals, first by the hindmost, then
taken up by the one riding midway, and passed on
to him who leads; the last, as he hears them, shap-
ing his course in accordance.

In this quaint fashion they have proceeded several
leagues, when the leader, Ludwig, is seen‘ to swerve
suddenly to the left, without any direction having
reached him from behind; this, too, at an angle of
full flit degrees.

,” Rig t!” calls 0 priano from the rear, the tone of
his voxce telling o surprise, while thesame 1S Vlslble
on his face.

’ Gaspar repeats the word in like accent of aston-
ishment. Cypriano once more vociferating, “ Rightl
to the rightl’

But. although Ludwig must have heard them both,
to neither Elves he ear, nor pays the slightest atten-
tion to the directions called out to him. Instead, he
still holds out in the new course, which he seems to
have chosen for himself.

Has his horse shied, and escaped from hiscontroli
That is the first thought of the other two, who by
this time have both reined u and sit looking after
him. Then a more paini'u apprehension forces
“581151113011 them; he may have gone astra in an-
other sense. than from the track he she d have
taken. Is he still under the influence of the animal
electricity which might account for his seemingly
eccentric ’behaVlOI‘Y. For eccentric it certainly ap-
pears, if not something worsevas indeed they ha f
suspect it to be. '

l

 

While they continue watching him, they see. as
well as hear, What goes far towaid confirming their
suspicions. For after galloping some two or three
hundred yards, and without once looking back, he
suddenly pulls up, raises his list from his head and
holding it aloft, waves it round and round, all the
while uttering cries as of one in a. frenzy!

“ Pobrevifof” mutters Gaspar to himself, “ the ex—
citement has been too much for him. So long on the
strain—n0 wonder. Ay dc m1)! Another of that
poor family doomed—and to worse than death l”

At the same time Cypriano is reflecting in a some-
what similar fashion, though he makes no remark.
The strange exhibition saddens liim beyond the,
power of speech. His cousin has gone crazed!

They had headed their horses, and were about to
ride rapidly after, when they saw him stop; and
now movinggently forward with their eyes on him,
they see him replace the cap upon his head, and
bend downward with gaze given to the ground.
Some new fancy dictated by a disordered brain,
think they. What will he do next? What will they
see?

And what do they see on drawing nearer to him?
Thatwhich makes both of them feel foolish enough;
at the same time that it rejoices them to think they
have been the victims of a self-deception. For be-
fore they are quite up to the spot where he has
halted, they perceive a. large space of whitish color,
where the surface mud has been tossed and mixed
up with the substratum of saltpeter—all done by,
éhfi hoofs of horses, as even at a distance they can

e .

” Come along here, you laggardsl” cries Ludwig,

in tone of triumph; “ I‘ve something to show you.
Feast your eyes upon this!”

Whie speaking he nods to the ground by his
horse‘s head, indicatin the disturbed tract; then
adding, as he raises his and, and points outward:

“And on that!”

The “that” he refers to is awhite list leading
away westward as far as they can see—:evidently
the trail taken b those they are in pursuit of.

Long ere this, 0th Gaspar and C priano have full
comprehension of what perplexet while alarming
them. But neither says a word of the suspicions
they had entertained concerning him. Each in his
own mind has resolved never to speak of them, the
gaucho, as he comes up again crying out:

“Bravol” then addin with an air of gracious
humility, “So, Senor Lu wig,you, too. have beaten
mel Beaten us 5111 You’ve set us on the right trail
now; one which, if I mistake not, will conduct us to
the end of our journey, without need of sunshine,
or any other contrivance.”

“And that end," interposes Cypriano, “will be in
a town or camp of Tovas Indians, at the tent of the
scoundrel arm" then, adding excitedly, “Oh:
that l were ere now!“

“ Have patience, hijo min," counsels Gaspar;
“you’ll be therein cod time, and that very soon.
For, from something remember, Idon’t think we’ve
much more journey to make. Butbefore proceed»
ing further, let us take a look at this curious thing
here, and see what we can make of it. Besides, our
animals need breathing a bit.”

So sayin , he dismounts, as do the others; and
leaving their horses to stand at rest, all three com~
mence examination of the tract which shows stirred
and trampled.

They see hoof-marks of horses—scores of them—
allover the round for a space of several perches,
and pointed in every direction; among them also
the footprints of men, with here and there smooth
spots as if where human bodies had reclined. That
both men and horses had been there is evident, and.
that they had gone off by the trace running west-
ward, equally so. But how they came thither is a
question not so easily answered; since the same
halting- lace shows no track of either horse or man
leading ward it.

Odd. all this mi ht a pear, indeed inex licable, to
one unacquainte wit the nature of a ust-storm,
or unaware of the incidents which have preceded.
But to Gaspar, the gauche, everything is as clear as
daylight; and. after a shortinspection of the “ sign,”
he thus truthfully interprets it:

“The red—skins had Just ot thus far, when the
tormenta came on. It caugh them here. and that‘s
why we see these smooth patches; they lay down
to et it blow by. Well; there’s one good turn its
done us: we know the exact time they passed this
spot; or, at all events, when they were on it. That
must have been just after we entered the cave, and
were engaged with the tigre—I mean Number 1. No
doubt by the timcwe tackled the old Toni they were
off again. As on see, ml/ChuC/l/S, some little rain
has sprinkled hat trail since they passed over it,
which shows they went awn in the tail of that ter-
rific shower. “So,” he _ad , turning round, and
stepping beck toward his horse, “there's nothing
more to be done but. ride off after them; which
we ’i‘nay now do as rapidly as our animals can carry

At this they all remount, and setting their horses’
heads to the ndmn trail, proceed upon it at a brisk
pace; no longer traveling tandem, but broadly
abreast.

CHAPTER XXXI.
PICKING op PEARLS.

Fm)! their new point of de arture, the trackers
have no difficulty about the Erection; this traced
out for them as plain as if a row of finger osts,
twenty yards apart, were set across the sa itral.
For at least a. league ahead they can distin uish the
white list, where the saline eiilorcscence as been,
turned up and scattered about by the hoofs of the
Indian horses.

 

  

20

 

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

 

 

They can tell by the trail that over this portion of
their route the party they are in pursuit of has not
ridden in any compact or regular order, but strag-
gled over a wide space; so that here and there, the
tracks of single horses show separate and apart.
In the neighborhood of an enemy the Indians of the
Chaco usually march under some sort of formation;
and Gaspar, knowing this, draws the deduction that
those who have latest passed over the salitral
must have been confident that no enemy was near-—
either in front or following them. Possibly, also,

Blieir experience of the tormrnta, which must have
been something terrible on that exposed plain, bad
gendered them careless as to their modes of march-

ling.

Whatever the cause, they now taking up their
trail, do not not gause to speculate upon it, nor
make any delay. 11 the contrary, as hounds that
have several times lost the scent hitherto faint, but
once more recovered, and. now fresher and stronger
than ever, they press on with ardor not only re-
newed but hightened.

All at once, however, a shout from Cypriano in-
terrupts the rapidity of their progress—in short,
bringing them toa halt—he himself suddenly rein-
ing up as he gives utterance to it. Gaspar and Lud-
wig turn simultaneouslly toward him for an explana.
tion. While their ances hitherto have been
straying far forward, e has been giving his habitlb
ally to the ground more immediately under his
horse‘s head, and to both sides of the broad trail;
his object being to ascertain if amon the many
tracks of the Indians' horses, those of rancosca’s
pony are still to be seen.

And sure enough he sees the diminutive hoof-
marks plainly unprinted—not at one particular
place, but every here and there as they go galloping
along. It is not this, however, which elicited his
cry, and caused him to come so abruptly to a 81:0 .
Instead,,s0mething which equally interests, while
more surely proclaiming the late presence of the
girl in that place, with the certainty of her being
carried along a captive. He has caught sight of an
object which lies glistening among the white pow-
der of the salvz'h-é—whitish itself, but of a more he
trons sheen. Pearls—a string of them, as it proves
upon closer inspectionl At a glance he recognizes
an ornament well known to im, as worn by his
girlislitcousin; Ludwig also, soon as he sees it, cry-
in on :

g It’s sister’s neckletl”

Gaspar, too, remembers it; for earls are precious
things in the eyes of a gaucho, w ose hat often car-
ries a band of such termed the toquz'lla.

Cypriano, flinging himself from the saddle, picks

, the necklace up, and holds it out for examination.

' It is in no way injured, the string still unbroken,
and has no doubt dro ped to the ground by the
clasp coming undone. ut there are no traces of a
struggle having taken place, nor sign that any halt
had been made on that spot. Instead, the pony‘s
tracks, there distinctly visible, tell of the animal
having passed straight on without stop or stay. In
all likelihood, the catch had got loosened at the last
halting-(place in that conflict with the storm, but
had hel on till here.

Thus concluding, and Cypriano remounting, they
continue onward along the trail, the finding of the
pearls having a pleasant effect upon their spirits.
For it seems a good omen, as if promising that they
may yet find the one who had worn them, as also be
able to deliver her from captivity.

Exhilarated by the hope, they canter briskly on;
and for several leagues meet nothing more to inter-
rupt them; since i; at which next fixes their atten-
tion, instead of staying, but lures them onward—the
tops of tall trees, whose rounded crowns and radi-
ating fronds tell that they are palms.

It still lacks an hour of sunset, when these begin
to show over the brown waste, and from this the
trackers know they are nearing the erd of the
travesia. Cheered by the sight, they spur their
horses to increased speed, and are soon on the edge
of the salitral; beyond seeing a plain where the
herbage is green, as t ough no dust-storm had
flown over it. Nor had there, for the tonnen/a, like
cyclones and hurricanes, is often local, its blast
having a well-defined border.

Riding out upon this tract—more
traveler-they make a momentary
remajgiing in their saddles, as they gaze inquiringly
overi .

And here Cypriano, recalling a remark which Gas-
par had made at their last camping-place, asks an
ex lanation of'it. The gaucho had expressed a be-

,iie , that from somethin he remembered, they
would not have much furt er to go before arriving
at their journey’s end.

“Why did you say that?" now questions the
young Paraguayan.

‘-‘ Because I‘ve heard the old antique, Naraguana,
s eak of a place where they buried their dead.
Slgrange my not thinking of that sooner; but no
brains have been so muddled with what’s happene ,
and the hurry we’ve been in all along, I’ve forgotten
a. good many things. He said they had a town
there, too, where they sometimes went to live, but
oftener to (lie. I warrant me that’s the very place
they‘re in now; and, from what I understood him to
say it can’t be far t‘other side this stilifml. He
spoke of a hill rising above the town, which could
be seen a long ways ofi': a curious hill, shaped some-
thing like a wash‘hasin turned bottom upward.
Now, if we could only sight that hill.”

At this time he ceases speaking and elevates his
e es, with an interrogative glance which takes in all
t a plain ahead, 11 to the horizon’s verge. Only for
a few seconds is 6 Silent, when his voice is again
heard, this time in grave but gleeful exclamation:

“.Por todos Samoa .’ there’s the hill itself !”

leasant for a

alt, but still -

 

The others looking out behold a. dome-sha ed
eminence, with a flat, table—like t0) recogniza le
from the quaint description Gaspar as just given
of it, though little more than its summit is VlSlble
above the plain—for they are still several miles dis-
tant from it.

“We must go nearer to it now," observes the
gaucho, adding, in a tone of apprehenSion, “we
nlilay ‘be too near already. 0 3mm! Just look at
t ati

The last observation refers to the sun, which, sud—
denly shootin out from the clouds hitherto obscur-
ing it, again s iOWS itself in the sky. Not now, how-
ever, as in the early morning hours, behind their
backs, but right in front of them, and low down,
threatening soon to set.

“ Vayale.“ he continues to ejaculate in a tone of
mock scorn, apostrophizing the great luminary,
“no thanks to you now, showing yourself when
you're not needed. Instead. I‘d thank on more if
you’d kept your face bid a bit longer. etter for us
if y ou had.”

 

of which agpears a. dense underwood, and, soon as
signaling t is, he rides toward and into it, the others
after him.

Once inside the copse, and for the time feeling
secure against observation, they hold a hasty coun-
sel as to which step they ought next to take. From
the sight of that oddly-shaped hill, and what Gaspar
remembers Naraguana to have said, the have no
doubt of its ,heing the same referred to fly the old
chief, and that the sacred town of the Tovas is some-
where beside it. So much they feel sure of, their
doubts being about the best way for them to
approach the place and enter the town, as also the
most proper time. And with these doubts are, of
course, mingled many fears; though with these,
strange to say, Ludwig, the oungest and least ex-
perienced of the three, is the east troubled. Under

he belief, as they all are, that Naraguana is still
living, his confidence in the friendship of the a ed
waffle has throughout remained unshaken. W en
the tter is told of all that has transpired; how his
pale-faced friend and protégé met his death by the

 

 

 

 

 

AN INDIAN BELLE.

“ Why better?” asks Cypriano, who, as well as
Ludwig, has been listening with some surprise to
the Singular monologue. ‘ What harm can the sun
do us now more than ever?”

“ Because now, more than ever, he‘s shining inop-
porliuiielg,tboth as to time and place.”

‘ n w a way i”

“ In a way to show us to eyes We don‘t want to see
us just yet. Look at that iiii yonder. Supposing
now, just by chance, any of the Indians should be
idling upon it, or they have a vidctte upthero. Bahi
what am I babbling about? He couldn't see us if
they had; not here, unless through. a telescope, and
I don’t think the Tovas are so far civilized as to have
that implement among their chattels. For all, we’re
not safe on this exposed 5 ct, and the sooner we‘re
off it the better” Some 0 them may be out scout-
ing in this direction. Come, let us get under cover,
and keep so till night’s darkness gives us a stillsafer
screen against prying eyes. Thanks to the Virginl
yonder’s the very lace for our purpose."

Ho pomts to a c Limp of trees, around the stems

 

assassins hand—how the daughter of that friend
has been carried oil—surely he will not refuse resti-
tution, even though it be his own people who have
perpetrated the double crime?

Reasoning thus, Ludwig counsels their riding
straight on to the Indian town, and trusting to the
good heart of Nuraguana—«throwing themselves
upon his generosity. Cypriano is equally eager to
reach the place, where he supposes his dear cousin
Francesca to be pining as a prisoner; but holds a.
very different opinion about the prudence of the
step, and less believesinthe goodness of Naraguann.
To iim all Indians seem treacherous—Toms Indians
more than any—for before his mental vision he has
(Avior the image of Aguara, and can think of none
0t ier.

As for the gaucho, though formerly one of Nara-

ana's truest friends, from what has happened,

is faith in the integrity of the old Tovas chief is
greatly shaken. Besides, the caution, habitual to
men of his calling and kind,admonishes him against
acting rasth now, and he but restates his opinion:

a",

 

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

21

 

that the ' will do best to remain under cover of the
trees, at east till night's darkness comes down. 01'
course this is conclusive, and it is determined that
they stay.

Dismountin , they make fast their horses to some
branches, am sit down beside them—en Lima/1v.
But in this camp they kindle no fire. nor make any
noise. conversing only in whispers. O‘ne passmg
the copse could ‘hear no sound inside it, save the
chattering of a flock of macaws, who have their
roosting-place amid the tops of its tallest trees.

CHAPTER XXXII.
IN THE sscnsn rows.

THAT same sun which became so suddenly ob-
scured over the Kalil/(1’, to shine again in the later
hours of the afternoon, is once more about to with-
draw its light from the Chaos—this time for setting.
Already appears its disk almost down upon the
horizon; and the strangely-shaped bill, which t0w-
ers above the Tovas town, casts a dark shadow over
the plain eastward, to the distance of many miles.

 

their doors, young iris engaged in various occupa-
tions; some at has at work, others weaving mats
from the fibers of split palm-leaves, still others
knitting redes, or hammocks. Women of more mn-
ture age are busied with culinar cares, preparing
the evening repast over fires kindlzed in the 0 en air;
while several are straining out the honey of he wild
bee, called ids-17m", which a party of bee-hunters, just
returned to the tolderia, has brought home.

A few of the men may also be observed moving
about, or standing in groups on the open ground rui-
joining the ma/occa ; but, at. this hour most of them
are, on horseback out upon the adjacent plain, there
galloping to and fro, gathering their flocks and

ierds, and drivmg tliem_ toward the canals; these
flocks and herds composed of horned—cattle, sheep,

, and goats- the Tovas lndians being somewhat of a

pastoral people. No savages they, in the usual
sense of the term, nor yet is hunting their chief oc-
cupation. This they follow now and then, diversify-
ing the chase by a warlike raid into the territory of
some hostile tribe, or as often some settlement of

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NAILAGL'ANA‘S GRAVE.

The palms skirting
forms far over t e water. whose surface, undis-
turbed by the slightest breath of air, shows smooth
and shining as a mirror; broken, however, here and
there, where Water-fowl disport themselves upon it.
Among these may be observed the great musk duck,
mimiu'ned “ Muscovy," and the black-necked swan;
both indigenous to the Chaco; while in the shal-
lower places along shore, and by the edges of the
islets, appear various species of long-leggedwaders,
standing still, or stalking about as if on stilts; the
most cons icuous of all helm: the scam“ flamingo.
side by 5 do with the yet taller .’/’17'Z’J"v already
known to us as “soldier-crane."

around the Sacred Town of tho Tnvas.

And on this same day and hour, a stringer enter—
in: within the precincts of the rlncc itself might 110%
o‘rsv-rvo anything to contrast with the tranquillity of
t in scone outside. Among the Nil/Ins he would see
children at play, and. here and lhel'v. seated by

the lake reflect their graceful l the pale-faces. For all,clvilization of acertaln kind

has made progress among them; having its origin
in an early mmigration from Peru When t e
“ Children of the Sun " were conquered by Pizarro
and hisconquisradores. Atthattime man Peruviansy
fleeing from the barbarous cruelty of t eir S finish
invaders, sou lit asylum in the Chaco, there nding
it: and from t ese the Tovas and other tribes have
long ago learned many of the arts of civilized life;
can spin their own thread, and sew skillfully as
any seamstress of the pale-faces: weave their own
cloth, dress and dye it in fast colors of becomin

patterns; in short can do many kinds of mechanics.

' work, which no white artisan need feel ashamed to
A scene of tranquil yet picturesque beauty-DPT- '
halls n0 fairer on earth—is the landscape lying:

acknowledge as his own. Above all,are the famed
for the “feather-work,” or plume embroi erywan
art peculiarly Indian—which, on their first becoming
acquainted with it, astonished the rough soldiers of
Cortez and Pizarro, as much as it delighted them.
To this day is it practiced among several of the
South American tribes, notahli those of the Gran
Cliuco, while the Tovus pariicu nrly excel in it.

 

But perhaps the highest evidence of these Indians
having some civilization is their form of govern-
ment. which is in reality Republican. For their
cariyue, or chief, although sometimes allowed to
rule by hereditary succession, is more often chosen
by the sub—chiefs and warriors; in short, elected j us:
as the President of a Republic.

This gives the key to Aguara's doubts and fears
on returning to the Sacred Town with Francesca.
Halberger as his captive. Nor are the latter et
allayed, despite three days having elapsed since iis
return. Though he has done all in his power to con-
ceal from his people the true facts in relation to her
father‘s death. still certain details of the tragedy
have leaked out; and it has become known to most
that the hunter-naturalist is not only dead, but died
by the hand of an assassin. This last, however,
they suppose to have been the other white man late
on avisit to them—Valdez the cagueann. For the
same tale which Aguara had told to his captive on
the way, he has repeated, with some variations, to
the elders of the tribe assembled in council within
the malovczz. So far not much of a fiction; only that
part accountin for the death of the young brave
who fellto H berger's bullet—a stray shot, while
the latter was defendiii himself against Valdez.

And the daughter of t ie murdered man has been
brought back with them, not as a. prisoner, but be-
cause it was inconvenient to take her direct to her
own home. She can and will be sent thither at the
first opportunity which offers. So promises. the de-
ceitful son of Namguana to those of the tribe who.
would call him to account.

Meanwhile the girl has been intrusted to the
charge and safe-keeping of Shebotha, a sort of
“ mystery woman," or sorceress, of much power in
the community; though, as all know, under the in-
fluence of Aguara himself. But he has not dared to
take the youthful captive to his own {oh/o, or even
hint at so doing: instead, he still keeps his wicked
purpose to himself, trusting to time and Shebotha

or its accomplishment.

According to his own way of thinking, he can well
afford to wait. He has no thought that any one will.
ever come after the captive girl; much less one with.
power to release her. It is not probable, and from
a knowled e possessed only by himself, scarcely
possible. or father is dead. her mother doomed
to worse than death, as also her brother and that
other relative—his own rival. For before parting
with him Ruflno Valdez had said what amounted to
so much; and ossibly by this time the Senora Hal-
ber er, with w at remained of her family, would be
on t 13 way back to Paraguay; not returning volun—
tarily, but taken back by the t'aqumno. With this

1,

belief—6. false one, as we know—the young Tovas ‘

chief feels secure of his xictim, and therefore re«
frains from any act of open violence, as likely to
call down upon him the censure of his people.
Though popular with the younger members of the
tribe, he is not so much in favor with the elders as
to fly in the face of public Opinion: for Were these
aware of what has reall taken place, it would go
in with him. But as e r they are not; silence hav-
ingbeen enjoined on t e youlhs who accompanied
him on that ilhstarred expedition, which they, for
their own sakes, have hitherto been careful to keep.

For all Certain facts have come to light in dism
jointed. ragmentary form, with deductions drawn
from them, which go hard against the character of
the young cadqne ,' and as the hours pass others are
added until discontent begins to show itself among
the older and more prominent members of the tribe,
chiefly those who were the friends of his father.
For these were also friends of her father, now alike
fatherless, though made so 1) a more cruel fate.
Low murmurings are here an there heard which
speak of an intent to prosecute inquiry on t e sub—
ject of Halber r‘s assassination—even to the car
ryin it into araguafl. Now that they have redn-
tere into amity wit Paraguay’s Dictator, they
may go thither, though the urpose be a strange
one; oarraign the commis oner who acted in re-
storin the treaty!

Wit much whispering and murmurs around, itis
not strange that the cum: antique, while dreamin
of future pleasures, s ould also have fears for the.
future. His love-passion, wild as wicked has
hrou ht him into danger, and a storm seems rew-
in ,i at, sooner or later, may deprive him of his
ch eftainship.

 

CHAPTER XXXHI.
AN main: BELLE.

In the Tovas chief be in danger of receiving un-
ishment from his geople for carryin into eapt vity
the daughter of is father‘s frien , there is also
danger to the captive herself from another and very
different source. Just as the passion of love has
been the cause of her being brought to the Sacred
Town of the Tovas, that of jealousy is like to be the
means of her there finding an early grave.

The jealous one is an Indian girl, named Nacena,
the daughter of a sub-chief, who like Naraguana
himself, was an aged man, held in high regard. and,
as the deceased critique. now also sleeping his last:
sleep in one of their scafiold tombs.

Despite her bronzed skin, Nacena is a beautifui
creature; for the brown is not so deep as to hinder
the crimson blush showing its tint upon her cheeks;
and many a South American maiden, boasting the
blue blood of Andalusia. has complexion less fair
than she. As on this samo evening she sits by
the shore of the lake. on the trunk of a fallen palm
tree, her fine form clad in the picturesque Indian
garb with her lovely face mirrored in the tranquil
water, a picture is presented on which no eye could
look, nor thought dwell. without a feeling of de~
light: and, regarding her thus, no one would believe

 

 

22

her to be other than what she is—the belle of the
Tovas tribe.

Her beauty had not failed to make impression
upon the heart of A ara, ion before his having
become marque. He as loved ier too, in days gone
by. ere he looked upon the olden-haired pale-face.
Both children then, and litt c more yet: for the In-
dian Fir] is only a year or two older than the other.
But 11 this southern climc, the precocity already
spoken of is not confined to those whose skins are
called white, but equally shared by the red.

Nacena has been beloved by the son of Nara-
guana, and knew, or at least believed it. But she
better knows, that she has been deceived by him,
and is now slighted, about to be cast aside for an-
other. That other will, ere long, be chieftainess of
the Tovas tribe, while she—

Sho has reflected thus far, when the bitter thought
overp0wering causes her to start to her feet a cry
Escaping her lips as if it came from a heart cleft in

W8. 11.

Nothing of this, however, shows in her face. The
expression upon it is rather that of an er, as a
jagruareto of her native plains, whose rage as been
aroused by the arrow 0 the Indian hunter suddenly
piercing its side. Hitherto silent, she is now heard

speak; but, though alone, the words to which she
gives utterance are not in solilo uy; instead, as if
spoken to some one who is near, t ough unseen. It
is an a ostrophe meant for no mortal ears, but ad-
dres to the Divinity of the lake!

“Spirlt of the waters!" she cries, with arms out-
stretched and head aloft, “hear my pra er! Tell
me if it be true! Will he make her his wi e?”

She is silent for a second or two, as though ex-
pectinga re ly, and listening for it. It comes, but
not from t e deity addressed. Out of her own
heart she has the answer.

“He will; yes, sure! will. Else, why has he
brought her hither? A also tale has he told in the
council of the elders; false as himself! Where are
his words ,his vows made to me with lips that gave
kisses? Perjured— rokenagone as his love, given
to another! And I am soon to see her his queen, sa~
lute her as mine, and attend upon her as one of her
waiting-maids! Never! No. spirit of the waters!
Rather than do that, I shall go to cu; be one of
your-attendants, not hers. Rather t an that, thou
shall: take me to thy bosom!”

4 High-sounding speeches from an Indian girl,
scarce fifteenst of age! But love’s eloquence
is not confln to age, race, or rank, no more
than that of geolousy. Both dpassions may burn
in the breast o the savage ma! en, as in the heart
of the high-born lad —— erba s tearing it more.
Not strange they shou d d 9 expression on the

pa.

“Wh not now?” continues Nacena, in a tone
that of despair while the cloud upon her brow
$85963: to grow dar er. “Ah! why not? No need

waiting ion or; I know all. A leap from yonder
rock, and would be over, my suspense, as my
Mei-lags."

Fora moment she stands with eyes fixed upon a
rocky promontory, which juts out into the lake
near by. Its head overhangs the water, there

isthmus doe , as she knows. Many the time has

she s rung rom that_ prcflecting hit to swim,
'ke, underneath it. ut the p unge she now
medltates is not for swimming, but to sink!

“No!” she exclaim after a ause, as she with-
draws her us from t 9 rock, e e, resslon upon
her face c singing back to that of t e Jaguai‘ete/
“No, Spirit of the Waters! not yet. Nacena fears
not to die, but that is not the death for the daugh-
ter of a’l‘ovas chief. Ifwronged she must resent

v it,and will. Rove first, and the decelver shall
flntdie. After tha , oh Spirit, thou canst take me;

Nacena will no ion or care to live.”

A! shesays this, he sad look returns to her coun-
tenance, replacing that of an er; and for a time
she stands with head droode own to her bosom,
and arms hanging listlesst by her side—a very pic-
ture of despair. .

At length she is about to .leave the spot, when , a
footetep warns her of one making upgroach; and,
turning, sheseeswho it is. A youth, ut to man-
hood grown, and wearing the insignia of a sub-
chisf. Though many years older than herself, he is

her b r.
“Sister!” he says, coming’up to her, and closely
, Scanning her face, “ you have thoughts that trouble
you. I would know what they are.”
“Oh, nothing," she rejoins withan effort to ap-
pear calm. “ ’ve only been coking over the lake,
atthe birds out yonder. How they enjoy them-
selves this fine evening!"

“ But {gu’re not enjoying yourself, Nncena; nor

I haven’t on for some tune past. I’ve noticed that;
and more, I know the reason."

She, starts at his words; not to turn pale, but with

v the blood manning into her brown cheeks. Still is
shesilent.

“You need neither deny nor declare it," be con-
tinuea. “"l‘is all known to me, save one thing.
That alone I wish to ask you about. I must have
ananswer, and atruthful one. As your brother I
demand it, Nacena." .

She fixes her eyes upon him, in a look half-fright-
ened, then timid asks:

“ W‘gat thing, Olin?”

“ he betrayed you f”

“ Betrayed!" she echoes, the blush upon her
cheeks mounting up to her brow, and becomin
deepened. “Brother! find any one but ouask

t t question~ Betrayed! No; your sis er would

ere that could have been. As you seem to know
all. I will no longer conceal the truth from you.
You in of A uara. I loved him; ah! love him

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

it solemnly; vowed it. Now I know his words were
false, and he was but beguiling me."

“ lien he has trifled with you,” exclaims the
brother, his indi ation now beyond bounds. “ You,
my sister the liter of a ovas chief, of birth
and bloc e ual to us own! But he shall repent it,
and soon. be time has not come; it will ere long.
Enou h now, Nscena. Not aword to any one of
what as passed between us. Be patient and wait.
For your wrongs, I promise, you shall have re-
venge.

And with this threat, he turns away; leaving her
on the lake’s edge, as he found her.

Soon as he is out of sight, and his footfall beyond
hearing, shc rescats herself on the trunk of the
palm; and, supporting her head upon her hands,
gives way to weeping—a very cataract of tears.

It seems to relieve her from the tumult of emo-
tions late harassing her heart, and after a time she
looks up with an expression in her 0 es different
from all that have preceded. It is of iopc; as can
be told b the words which fall in low inurmui-ing
from her i s:

“After a I may be mistaken. Can I? If so, and
he is still true, then I am wron in: him, and Kaolin
may commit a crime that wil bring both punish-
ment and repentance. Oh, that I know the truth!
But sure] Shebotha knows, and can tell it me. She
will, for t 113 reward I shall offer her. This night she
Bills promised to meet me on the hill, and then,

en—

She breaks off abru tly and with countenance
again clouding over. or the words “ I shall learn
thie gorst ” are on her lips, and the thought in her
in n .

, It is hope’s last spark, love—lighted from embers
nearly ex inguished,still flickering, faint, and vainly
struggling to burn on.

CHAPTER XXXIV.
AN ELEVATED GRAVEYARD.

JUST as the lastglimmer of twilight is taking dc-
parture from the plain, the three who had sought
concealment under the roosting- lace of maca
slip quietly out of the copse, an ride awa fro
it, leaving the noisy birds, now silent, ehind

lEIH.

There is yet light enough to enable them to take
bearings b the hill, who as they have rightl
conjecture , rises over the ovas town; and, earl—
in direct toward it, after a. couple of hours spent in
ri ing at a brisk pace, they arrive at the rocky steep
forming a periphery to its base. As there is now a
clear moonlight, caution dictates their again etting
under cover; which they do'b drawing h ir arses
close in to the adjacent cl , whose shadow suf-
ficiently conceals them. But it is not intended to
stag! long there. At their last halting- lace they
ha considered everything, and decide upon the
steps to be taken; so far as they can, from what is
known to them. ‘If the circumstances change .or
turn out different to what they are expecting, they
must be guided in their action accordingly.

Still in the belief of Narafigana being alive,'Lud-
wi , is again of the o inion t t they should push on
to 'he town without unheard . T place can-
not now he far off; rent the h ‘5 base the have
struck a broad and much-traveled trail deno the
proximity of a settlement. , no is undo ded,

ut Gaspar, as before  s rotieg against pro-
ceeding directly onward. ' ' ' ~

 

 
  
   
  
   
  

     
 

     

learn how the land". i . In it: ,_casc, V8 ’ t“
have a squint at this sacred TOWn,‘ before trusting
ourselves within its walls—if walls it have. FrOm
the look of things here, I fancy it lies on the other
side of this bill. .Bycliinhing t e hill now, and stay-
ing on its top till daj break, We’ll get a cod View of
the town, which wi !, no doubt. be ms t under us.
We can see all through the streets, and what‘s go-
ing on in them. That will give us a hint of how to
act afterward, and if things, look favorable, we
might then ride boldly in; which, after all may be
the best way of introducing ourselves—only it should
be done in the daylight.“ ..

Cypriano sees that the gaucho’s reasonin is cor-
rect; and Ludwi also acknowledging it to 6 so, it
is finally decide that they ascend the hill. and re«
main upon its summit for the rest of that night.

But now comes a question not hitherto asked or
thought of. How is the ascent to be made, and
Where is there a path racticable for making it?
Not only is it steep, bu its sides are thickly over—
grown with trees, and between their trunks a dense
tangle of underwood.

“ It must be on its summit they have their bury-
in - ground," observes Gaspar, gazing upward.
“ cs; Naraguana spoke of its being on the top of
a hill, and there's no other hill near. If that be the
case, and they carry their dead up, there’li sure be
some sort of a road for their funeral processions.
That would like] he on the other side, straight up

 

still. nd he to me my love was returned; spoke

from the town. ut I warrant there's a trail starts

- staging of strong canes, the cafia bramtlh

“You s>enk ofdolaia, , ' Senor ’15de ’f be. 5""
“ but in tilis case, tin? 

'thereintohish

s eed,'mi ht bthi€.b “is; W
“yould we gain by ebterin Wow-n new! isn't .
likely we 5 cold aoegm m: _ twilight:er n
angst the hour it v . «la  '- ht; 
ie cus omo mo - ' V early. ,,
and early to rise, , a I  ‘ M83111
of them asleep, with! d: to W78 us.
Cam-ail Anicer . . hoi‘ Like
not some scores of _ to f l n
us—~perhaps dra 113 v dies. 5,
in the mornings. w- grant.»th the 0-
pic up to protect , such assault. 11!:
whether we enter  , or bin ,1 still as to
the belief, that it it! ~ _ so by at th-
at least, one ofus 4,5”, :' slip ' t and
h ,, y

. st
to where these have

 

from this side, too, and runs right over the hill.
Let’s ride along a bit, and see h’ there be."

The gaucho’s conjecture is correct, as they soon
discover. Before they have ridden three score
lengths of their horses, keeping close along the base
of the bill, they perceive an opening in the timber
which skirts it, marked by certain insignia denoting
the entrance to a much-frequented path. For
though narrow, it showswell tram led and trodden.
Diver 'ng abruptly from the broac road running on
roun the bill, it strikes in under a tall cotton tree,
a ceihu, this conspicuous from being bent over, as if
half-blown down. The path enters between its
trunk and a gigantic pill: plant (agate), whose stih‘.’
spinous leaves almost bar up the entrance as with
an iron gate.

“That’s the way we‘ve got to go,” says Gaspar,
gointing to it, at the some time setting is horse’s

and in the direction of the ceéba ,' then, adding, as
he nods toward the pim plant, “have a care of
your heads, hi}ng mics! Look out for this queer
customer on the left, or you may get your soft
checks scratched a bit.” _

0n delivering the admonition he ducks his own
head, and passing under the thorn leaves of the
(lg/(7)13, commences the ascent of the llll.

Cypriano and Ludwig do likewise; and all three
are soon climbing the steep one behind the other,
now in silence, the only sounds heard being the
hoof-strokes of the horses, with their hard breath-
ing as they strain up the acclivity.

A quarter of an hour‘s tough clambering carries
them up the wooded slope, and out upon the open
summit, where they have a spectacle before their
eyes peculiar as it is o ' 'nal. As already said, the
hill is table-topped, an being also dome-shaped.
the level surface is circular, havin a diameter of
some three or four hundred 'ards. othing strange
in this, however, since hi] 3 of the kind, termed
means, arecommon throughout most arts of S anish
America, and not rarein the Gran C aco. A! three
are familiar with such eminences. But what they
are not familiar with—and indeed none of them
have ever seen before—are some scores of queer-
lookin structures standing all over the summit,
witha is -like spaces between! Scaflolds they ap-
pear, eac having two stages, one above the other,

« such as might be used in the erection of a two-story

house!

And scaflolds they are, thou 11 not emplo ed in
any building purposes: inste for that of urial.
The are t e tombs on which are do osited the

es of the Tovas’ dead; or those 0 them that
during life were dignitaries in the tribe.

On this elevated cemetery the moon is shinin
brightly though obliquely, throwing the shadows 0
the sea oids asiant, so that each has its counterpart
on the smooth turf by its side, dark as itself, but
magnified in the moonlight. Gaspar and his com-
panions can see that these singular mausoleums are
altogether constructed of timber, the sufimorting
posts being trunks of the Coooyol palm, t e lower

laid side by
side, while the upper one, or roof, is a atch of the
leaves of another spedes of palm—«the cuberfa.
After contemplating them for, an instant, Gaspar

says: » ,
This is the bur W Naraguana s oke to
me about, beyondflndgu t. And not such a glad sort

of place either to takeone’s final rest in, after life’s
worries over. I shouldn‘t much object to being
laid on in that style in self. Chg I'd. need friends
to live after me and {cop 9 re in repair;
otherwise the all thing in lit some do. come
tumbling downmnd in); (bones along wi h it.”

. At the conclusion J 3 quaint speech he gives
_ cicaand moves on among the
tombs making for the op to side of the ceme-
tery, theotherc following , silence. For from the

1' hr? of the hill on it! westward side, they expect to
100 d ‘

ownuponthe Indian , .

"It In stbe on t'othor side," observes the gauche,
asthe proceed; “Iremember the old chief saying
the t zma was west ohthe hill." .

When an acrosl- ' on rear up, halting
his horse alongslvde n th . hill conspicuous
among the rest, Byits  so a certain
harshness about the tim -w tab it is con-
ted; some chi the supports,

_  ch arid barked, telling
of recent erection. It‘ in ., “‘ however, has
prompted Gaspar to make stop beside it, butfimply
that be there seesa place suitable for the sta ling of
their horses. There is no need to take the animals
on the other side, but better leave them there, and
themselves go forward afoot.

Thus reflecting, all three dismount, and attach
their horses to the corner posts of the scaffold, each
choosing one for his own. Then with cautious
ate 5, they continue to the outer e ge of the circle,
ant‘ pushing through some trees that skirt it, look
to the plain below. Sure enough, there is the thing
they ex ected to see—~an Indian town or folded”.
A large ake lies beyond, on whose tranquil surface
the moon inakesa mirror as if it were glass; But
their eyes rest on] upon the town, their ears bentto
catch any sound t at may come up from it. I

It is not long till sounds do ascend, the barking of
dogs, with now and then the lowmg of cattle, and
neighing of horses; but no human voice, nothing to
tell that the lace is inhabited by man. For there
is no smoke rom the houses, no lights anywhere.
everybody seeming to be asleep. '

Nothing strange in all this; nor do thegdooking
down from the hill think it so. Instead, t ‘ings are
just as they should be, and as Gaspar antiCipated
they would. For it is now the midnight hour, and
since red-men must have rest as well as white ones,
the I’Iu‘sovas have all retired to their beds or bam-
inoc .

 

 

~.»..«A_._... ..

(Lt-‘01 h? ten-cm m m

 

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

23

 

 

So concluding and satisfied with what they see——
reflecting further that nothing more can be done
till morning—4hr) gauche and his companions .go
back to their horses, with the intention of taking
off their saddles, and otherwise disposmg of them
for the night. .

It was at flist proposed to keep them tied to the
scafifold posts, but on a second inspection of the
place, Gaspar sees itis not the best one either for
their animals or themselves to pass the night in.
Should they go to rest. undentlie scaffold, while
asleep, their horses turning restive might, pull down
the posts, and bring rattling about their ears the
bones of one dead caciqua.’ Besides, the ground un-
derneath is not nice to repose upon; being without
herbage and trampled all over, some parts seeming
freshly turned up. The gaucho would prefer a
patch of soft grass to lay his limbs along, and this
very thiner he has noticed while they were out on the
brow of the eminence overlooking the town. Here
a grand fig-tree had attracted his attention, under
its branches seeming the most proper place for
them to encainp. Its far-spreading and umbrageous
bouglis drooping hack to the ground and there tak-
ing root—us the Indian Mull/Ill; of which it is the
TNéw \Vorld representative—incloscd a large space
underneath. It would not only give th cm a shelter
from the dews of the night, but concealment from
the eyes of any one who might Chance to be passing
that way.

With these manifest advantages in favor of the
ground under the fig-tree as a camping—place, and
the disadvantages of that beneath the scaffold, the
latter is without further ado forsaken, and the for-
mer taken possession of.

As no camp-fire can be safely kindled, nor food
cooked, they must go to sleep sup rless.

Fortunately none of them is a- ungered, all hav-
ing made a hearty meal while within the macaw’s
grove. There they]r had polished off the grand
“drumsticks” of t e ostrich, by good luck already
roasted. So caring not for supper, after havmg dis-
posed of their horses by t in them to branches of
the fl -trce, they stretc t emselves along the
groun ,and seek repose, which on this night they
all need, as much as on any other since starting
upon their long—protracted expedition.

Still, they do not intend to be all asleep at the same
time. In such a place, with the danger of being
found in it, that would never do. One of the three
must remain awake ’and on watch' so it is arran ed
that they take the duty of sentinel in turns. As be
present hour agipears to be the one calling for keen-
est vigilance, aspar volunteers for the first turn of
guard, and the other two wrapping their ponchos
around them, and resting their heads upon their
Tami/05, with a mutual Buenas noches! become Silent,
if not asleep.

 

CHAPTER XXXV.
ll DEAD MAN IDENTIFIED.

WHETHER. his young companions be slee mg or
awake, the gaucho does not stay by their shite; ut,
almost as soon as secin them disposed along the
earth, sli 3 out from on or the fig-tree, and facing
toward t 3 central art of the cemetery, walks of!
in that direction. H ob ect is to reviSit the scaf-
fold late left by them, on make a more detailed ex-
amination, of it. N 0t that he cares aught about the
structure itself, It is not the first time for him to
have seen similar burying-places of the Chaco In-
dians, and he known as much about them as he
cares to know. Nor is his object, in return to
this particular one, of a very definite character; ut
rather because avugue idea or instinct has come
into his mind which prompts him to the act—a. sort
of presentiinent that he may there see something to
throw light on much of _what has been all along
mystifying him. To go thither will. in no way inter-
fere with his duties as a sentinel, since he can per-
form these equally well or better by moving about.
Besides, it will help to begmle the time, as also
make him familiar with the ground they have got
upon-w. familiarity that may hereafter prove of
service to them. As already stated, he had ob-
served thatthe scaffold is of recent erection, telling
that the man or woman laid upon it cannot have
been very long dead. He , moreover, noticed,
while attaching his bridle to one of the uprights,
that a seriesof notches was cut in the post, evi-
dently. to facdiiate ascent. In all likelihood, the
surVivmg relatives of the deceased are in the habit
of coming thither at periodical intervals, to adorn

‘ the tomb with flowers or_other tokens of affection-
. at? memory; pel’léaps bring votive offerings to the
spirit WlllCl preSidcs over that consecrated 8901:.
But whatever the purpose of the notches the
gauche knows they will enable him to climb up
With ease, and see what rests upon the platform.
Approaching the catafal uc with silent tread he
staii s for a. time gazing a it without making any
movement to mount up. Not from curiosity does
he so regard it;,but something akin to awe has
stolen over his spirit, and he almost fears to intrude
on the sacredness of the place. Besides, the act re.
quires caution. What if some of the Indians given
to nocturnal straying should chance to come that
way and see him up those stairs, desecrating the
abo e of the dead? Even were there no other reason
for his fearing to be found in that place, the act itself
would make him liable to punishment—possibly no
less than death! For among the Tovas, as man
other tribes of South American Indians—infidelys
thOuBh they are called~the tombs of their dead are
held as sacred as those of the Spanish Christians
who so designate them.
hotivithstandiiig all this, Gaspar the gauche is not
to be balked in his design. He has not gone to the
bottonrof that curious catafalque, to o away
again Without seeing what is above. And t ough he

 

stands hesitating, it is only for a short while, finally
making up‘ his mind to ascend.

Ascend e does; laying hold of one of the notched
corner posts, and climbing the primitive ladder, as
it were, set ready and awaiting him.

As the moon is by this far down in the sky, its
beams are not obstructed by the.roof thatch, but
fail obliquely upon the floor of the platform be-
neath. There, lying at full length, the gauche per-
ceives a form, easily reco nizable as that of a. hu-
man being, though swat ed in various kinds of
cloths, which cover it from head to foot. The body
of a man, moreover, as can be told by its size and
shape; while _bcside, and arranged around it, are
certain insignia roclaiming it to be that of some
distinguished c iieftain of the Tovas. There are
spears, shields, macunas, lazoes, bolas—among them
t e bola [)crclza’a, some of these weapons placed
upon the platform alongside the corpse, others sus-
pended from the beams and poles supporting the
thatch of the roof. There is horse-gear as well—
the multifarious trappings which appertain to the
caparison of a gaucho‘s steed—rcoado, carona
caronilla, jerga, with Maineluke hitts and spurs of
immensely large rowels; for all these are possessed
by the higher order of pampas lndians, and notably
their chiefs—property they have picked up in some
plundering expedition, where gauchos themselves
have been their victims.

Just such a thought passes through the mind of
gaucho Gaspar, as his eyes rest on the grand array
displayed on the naciquc‘s tomb. For that it is the
tomb of a cacique, and one of grand note, he has
not a doubt, seeing such a selection of trophies. In
addition to the war weapons and implements of the
chase there are articles of dress and adornment;
brace ets of old, head necklets and belts, with
coronets of bright-colored plumes; while most con-
spicuous of all 159. large feather-embroidered manta,
covering the corpse from head to foot, even conceal-
ing the face.

Still there is nothing in all this to astonish Gaspar
Mendez, or in an way give him a. surprise. He has
seen the like he ore, and often among the Aura-
canian Indians, who are kindred with the tribes of
the Chaco. He but makes the reflection, how silly
it is in these savages thus to expose such fine com-
modities to the weather, and let them go to loss and
decay—all to satisfy a. heathen instinct of supeisti-
tionl And thus reflecting he would in all proba-
bility have lowered himse f back to the ground, but
for that presentiment still upon him. It influences
him to remain a moment longer balancing himself
upon the notched upright, and gazing over the plat-
form. Just then t e moon ge ting clear of some
cirrous clouds, and shining brighter than ever, lights
up an object hitherto unnoticed by him, but one he
reco nizes as an old acquaintance. He starts on
beho ding a. felt hat of the Tyrolese pattern, which
he well remembers to have seen worn by his inas-
ter, the hunternaturalist, and by him iven to the
aged cam‘que of the Tovas as a taken 0 friendship.
And now he feels the resentiment which, has been
upon him all explaine and fulfilled. S ringing up
on the platform. and uncovering the ace of the
corpse, he beholds~Naraguanal

CHAPTER XXXVI.
GABPAR nnsronnnnr.

“ NARAGUANL deadl" exclaims the gauche. as,
standing upon the scaffold, he gazes upon the form
ethic feet. “Santtssi'ma! this sstrange.”

“But is Ii)::n§eit'ii;ainly thde olgghtligcitqhuel’”lhedadrls,E

ain stoo own an rai e se ve go o
:egather cloth, which had fallen back over the face.
Once more exposodto view, the features dee )ly-fur-
rowed with age~for Naraguana was a very o d man
——and now further shrlveled by the dry winds of the
Choco, with the skin drawn tight over high clieek~
bones, and hollow, sightless ets, where once
shone a pair of eyes coaLblack and keen—all this
under the pale moonlight, presents 9. spectacle at
fincgyveird- ike and ghastly, as if of a. death’s head

so ,

Still it is the face of Naraguana, as at a glance the
gaucho perceives, muttering:

“ Yes; it’s the old chief, sure enough. Dead, and
dried u like a, mummyl Died of old age, no doubt.
Well ” e continues, in graver tone, “by whatever
way lie mayrhave come to his end, no. renter mis-
fortune could have befallen us. Carmi . it s Satan’s
own hick!"

Having thus delivered himself, he stands for a
while on the platform, but no longer looking at the
corpse, nor any of the relics around it. Instead, his
6 es are turned toward the tree, under whose
s iadow his youthful comrades are reclining, and, as
he supposes, asleep. On that side is the moon, and
as her light falls over his face, there can be seen
upon it an expression of great anniety and pain—
greater than anythat has marked it Since that ino-
incnt when, in the sumac grove he bent over the
dead body of his murdered master. I ,

But the troubled look now overspreading his fea-
tures s rings not from grief, nor has angcrnught to
do wit it. Instead, it is all apprehenSion. ‘ For
now, as thoughacurtain had been suddenly lifted
before his eyes he sees beyond it, there perceivmg
for himself an his companions danger such as they
had not yet been .called upon to encounter. All
along the route their thoughts were turned to N ara-
giiana, and on him rested their hopes. Naraguana
can do nothing for them now. _ _

“ No!” reflects the gaucho, despairingly, “ we can
eupect no help from him. And who else is there to
give it? Who, besides would have the power to
serve us, even if the wil be not wanting? No one I
fear. Mil Diablos! it’s a black look-out, now—t e
very blackest!"

Again facing round to the corpse, and fixing his

 

eyes upon the still uncovered face, he seems to ex-
amine it, as though it were a trail upon the pampas,
in order to discover what tale it may tell. And just
for a like purpose does he now scrutinize the fea-
tures of the dead mci’que, as appears by his solilo-
quy, succeeding

"Yes; I understand it all now-everything. He‘s
been dead some time—at least two or three weeks.
That explains their leaving the other town in such
haste and comm" on here. Dead, or deadly sick,
before he left it, t e old chief would have himself to
think of, and so sent no word to us at the cstuncm.
No blame to him for not doing so. And now that
the oung one’sin power, with a fool’s head and a
we] ’5 heart, what may we ex ect from him? Ah,
what? lnamatter like this, neit er grace nor mercy.
I know he loves the muchachz‘ta, with such love as a
savage may— assmnately, madly. All the worse
for her, poor t ingl And all the poorer chance for
us to get her away from him. for Dias! it does look
dark.”

After a pause, he continues:

“His making her a captive and bringing her on
here, I can quite understand; that’s all natural
enough, since his father being dead, there's no
longer any one to hinder him from doing as he likes.
It’s only odd—his chancing to meet master out that
day, so far from home. One would suppose he‘d
been watching the wiazimlu, and saw them as they
went away from it. But then, there were no strange
tracks about the place, nor anywhere near it. And
I could discover none b the old tolderia that seemed
at all fresh, excepting t ose of the shod horse. But
whoever rode him didn’t seem to have come any-
where near the house; certainly not on this side.
For all that, he might have approached it from the
other, and then ridden round, to meet the Indians
afterward at the crossing of the stream. Well,I
shall give the whole ground a better examination
once we get back.

“Get back)” he exclaims, repeating his words af-
ter a pause, and in changed tones. “ Shall we ever
get back? That’s the question now, and a very
doubtful one it is. “But,” he adds turning to de-
scend from the scaffold, “it won’t help us any on
the road—my remaining up here. If the old
cacz‘ ue’s body still had the breath in it, maybe it
mig t. But as it hasn’t, the sooner I bid good-by to
it tlhenbetter. Adios] Naraguana.‘ Pasa I7. buena
1:00 a. "

Were death itself staring him in the face, instead
of seeing it as he does in he face of another man,
Gaspar the gauche, could not forego a. jest, so
much delights he to indulge in his ludicrous humor.

After unburdening himself as above, he once
more closes his arms around the notched post, and
lowers himself from the platform.

But again upon the ground, and standing with
face toward the fig-tree, the gravity of its expres-
51011 is resumed, and he seems to hesitate about re-
turning to the place of bivouac, where his youthful
companions are now no doubt enjoying the sweets
of a profound slumber.

, “ A pity to disturb them !“ he matters to himself;
‘ and With such a tale as I have now to tell. But it
must be told, and at once. Now that everything‘s
changed, new plans must be thought of, and new
steps taken. 1 We're to enter the Indian town at
all. It will have to be in a different way from what
we , intended. Camila! how the luck’s turned
against us!"

And with this desponding reflection, he moves
of! from the scaffold; and, making his way among
the mausoleuins, once more approaches the spot
where the South American banyan casts its som-
ber shadow over them.

CHAPTER XXXVII.
BREAKING nan NEWS .

GASPAR has been mistaken in sup osing the other
two asleep. One of them is—Lu wig, who sleeps
soundly, and to all appearance peacefully. Not that
he is indifferent tot e seriousness of the situation,
or less anxious about the upshot, than C riario.
He but slumbers, because he is naturally o a more
somnolent habit than his cousin, as also, being the
weaker of the two, from the effects of a journe so
long sustained, and traveling at such a pace. ore-
over, he is not_even yet quite recovered from the
damage done him by the gymnoti; their electricity
still acting on his nervous system, and producing a
certain lassusude.

.There is yet another reason why Ludwig has let
himself go to slee )—one of a moral nature. As is
known, he still eres to his belief in the fidelity of
Naraguana, and, so believing, is least of them all
apprehensive about the result. At this moment he
may be dreaming of the old pacique, though little
dreams he that his deadquy is so near!

Alto ether different is it with Cypriano. This
night t ere is no sleep for him, nor does he think of
taking any. Thong he lay.down alongside his
cousin, wrapping lnmself in his poncho, he did not
long remain recumbent. Instead, soon starting to
his feet again, he has been pacing to and fro under
the fig tree, wondering where Gaspar has gone. For,
as known, the gaucho had slippe off without mak-
ing noise, or saying word.

Missing him, the young Paraguayan would call
out his name. But he fears to raise his voice, lest it
reach other cars than those for which it was in-
tended. Reflecting, moreover, that Gaspar is
pretty sure to have some good reason for absenting

imself, and that his absence will not likely be for
long, he awaits his return in silence. Therefore,
when the gauclio in coming back draws nigh to the
fig tree, he sees a form Within the periphery of its
illfldow, that of Cypriano standing ready to receive

im.

The latter first speaks, asking:

 

 

  

24

 

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

 

 

“ Where have you been, Gaspar 1""

“ Oh! only taking a turn among the tombs."

“And you’ve seen something among them to make
you uneasy?”

“Why do you say that, senorito i"

“ Because I can see it in your countenance.”

The Eaucho, as he ap roaches, has the moon full
upon is face, and by er light the other has ob-
served the troubled look.

“What is it?" the youth goes on to ask, in a tone
of eager anxiety, all the more from seeing that the
other hesitates to give the explanation. “ You've,
discovered something—a new danger threatens us?
Come, Gaspar! you may as welljteli me of it at once.”

“I intend tel ing you, hijo mic. Iwus only wait-
ing till we were all three together. For now. I think,
we‘ll have to rouse Master Ludwig. You’ve con-
jectured aright, as I’m sorry to say. I have seen
something that‘s not. as we would wish it. Still, it
may not be so bad as I‘ve been making it.“

Notwithstandinv this hopeful proviso, Cypriano is
himself now really alarmed: and, impatient to
learn what the new danger is, he stoops down over
his cousin, takes hold of his arm, and shakes him
out of his siumbers.

Ludwig, starting to his feet, confuserlly inquires
why he has been disturbed. Then Gaspar, comin v
close to them, so that he need not 5 eak in a lon
voice gives an account of what he as discovered.
with is own views rclatin to it.

As he himself did, botht e boys at once compre-
hend the changed situation, with a like keen sense
of the hi htened danger to result from it. Nara-

uana’s eath has extinguished all hope of help

rom him. It may be both the causeand forecast of
their owni

Thclréirospects are now gloomy indeed; but they
do noti ly dwell on them, or givcwa to utter dc-
s ondcncy. That would be unavaiing; besides,
t icre is no time for it. Somethng must )9 done to
meet the altered circumstances. But what? A
question to which none of them makes an immediate
answer, since none can.

For awhile all three stand silent, considering. Only
fora short while, when Gaspar is again stirred to ac-
tivity, b reflecting that even now they are not safe.
One of heir horses, frightened by an owl that has
fla ped its wings close to its face, has snortcd,
striking the hard ground with its hoof, and mak.
ing a noise that reverberates throughout the ceme-
tery, echoing among the scaffolds. What if he
should set to neighing. in answer to that which now
and then comes in from the town below? The
thing is too probab e, and the result manifest. A
singe neigh might betray them; for what would
horses be doi up there upon the Sacred Hill? So
would any Indian ask who should chance to hear it.

“We must muffle our animals," says Gaspar.
“And, what‘s more, take them back to the other
side, where we cameu . There we can better con-
ceal them among the ushes. Besides, if it should
come to our being under the necessity of a s eedy
retreat, we'll be nearer to the back track, an have
afairer chance of getting off. Senoritosl 'ct our
jergns, and wrap t em round our horses’ 19a 5."

He sets the example by so isposing of his own;
and accustomed to quick action in matters of the
kin , all three soon have their animals “ tapado.”
Then, leading them across to where the path as-
cends on the o osite side, they place them under
cover of some t ck bushes growing near by, Gaspar

sa 'ing:

KThey’ll be safe enough here, I take it, at all
events till the morning. Then we may move them
elsewhere, and if we’re to have a run for it, remem-
ber Mics mloe, “twill be a race for our lives. There’s
no araguana now to stand between us and that
young wolf who I fear has ot the dear little lamb
in his clutches. so fast we‘ll ave great—“

The effect of his words is such, upon those listen-
ing to them, that he suddenly interrupts himself in
what he was about to so , and in changed tone con-
tinues: “ C’aramba.’ we” rescue her yet, Narnguana
or no Nar ana. It can be done wi hout him, and
I think I know the way." .

In saying so, Gaspar is practicing a slight decep-
tion, h o ject being to cheer his young compan-
ions, over whom his last speech seemed to cast a
gloom of despair. For he has as yet thou ht of no
way, nor conceived any definite plan 0 action.
When asked by Cypriano to explain himself, he is
silent; and apgea ed to, he answers by evasion.
The truth is, at up to the instant of his finding
Naraguana’s body upon the scaffold, he too ha
been trusting all to what the latter would do for
them; and no more than Ludwig could he believe
the good old chief to have turned traitor to the

ale-face friend so long under his protection, much

one connived at his assassination. Now the gauche

knows he has had no hand either in the murder of
his master, or the abduction of that master's daugh-
ter. These events must have occurred subse uent
to his death and, while they were in the act 0 oc-
currence, N’arnguana was sleeping his last sleep
under his plumed mania upon that elevated plat-
form. His son and successor—for Gaspar doubts
not that Aguara has succeeded him in the cliicftain-
ship—is answerable for the deed of double crime,
whoever may have been his aiders and alicttors.

Of course this makes the case all the more diffi-
cult to deal with, since the new (-ul-iqw, by this
time established in full plenitude of power, will
have it all his own way, and can carry things with a
high band, as he most surely will. '10 make n pen]
to him for the restitution of the captive wou< be
manifest] idle, like asking a tiger to surrender the
prey it ho (is between its teeth or in its claws. The
gaucho has no thought of so appealing, any more
than hither of the others. And no more than they
has he formed a plan of future action. Only now,

 

l
after their disposal of the horses, is his brain busy 1

in the conception of some scheme suited to the

changed circumstances; and hence, on Cyprianoi
asking him to tell the way he knew of, be but. re- i

plies evasively, saying:

“Be patient, senon‘toi Wait till we‘ve at things
a little snug. then I‘ll take pleasure in te ling ou. l
But we mustn‘t remain here. On the other side of ;
this queer cemetery, where the road runs down to l
the tolderia—as i‘ve no doubt there is such-that i
will be the place for us to spend tin-night in. There ;
we can see and hear what passes on the plain, and i
should any one stray up we 11 b0 warned of it, either [
by our eyes and cars, in good time to get out of 4
their way. So let us cross over. And we must step ‘
silently,” he adds, pointing to the each Me’s scaffold i
tomb, “lest we disturb the sleep of old Naraguana, 1
up onder.”

V ith this facctious remark, made. partly in the
indulgence of his usual humor, but as much to raise
the spirits of his young companions, he strides off i
among the odd structures, making direct for the

They do not go direct to the point where the town-
road enters the cemetery ground, but first back to
the fig-tree to get their guns, ponchos, and some
other articles le t under it in their basic to put the
horses in a better place of security. Having recovu
ered the weapons and chattels, they proceed in
Search of the road; soon found b§ them, as all the
paths between the separate sea olds run into it.
i‘hc point where it comes up out of the defile is but
a short distance from the flg-tree; and on reachin
this paint, they take their stand under the cli ',
the one on the right hand side: for the moon bein
behind this, its shadow is projected more than hal -
across the causeway of the road, so giving them a
safe. spot to stand in.

But they do not remain ion upon their feet.
Gaspar. observing a low bench 0 rock at the cliffs
base behind them. repeats a Spanish synon In of
the old saw: "It‘s as cheap sittin as stan ing;"
and with this drops down upon the edge, the others
doing likewise.

The spot thus chosen is in every way answerable

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE BABOMETER TREE.

other side of the cemetery, Ludwig and Cypriano
following in single file.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
GASPAR MEANS uAsquniuomG.

As they might truly anticipate, the gaucho’s con-
jecture proves to be correct. A road runs up to the
summit of the hill, on its western side; not direct,
but somewhat zigzag cd, in consequence of the
slope on that face bf‘lng stee or, and the ground
more rock and uneven. Wit 9.], it is much wider
than that iy which thcy ascended, the latter being
only a path leading out to the uninhabited ampas;
while the formcris the main thoroughfare etwecn
town and cemetery. It (icliouchcs on the level sum-
mit through a slight hollow or defile, possibly due
to the wear and tear of travel, continued through
the long ngcs of many a funeral recession, and
from tho. most remote time, may ave wound its
way up that steep slope, passing between two cliii's,
which, like the poster-11s of some grand gateway,
mark Llic entrance to this l‘lt'Vlltctl burial‘placc.

 

for the object they have in view. They are right
over the Indian town, and can see into its streets so
far as is permitted by the moon's declinin light. It
commands, moreover, a view of the road, or a
reach below, to the first angle of the zl zag, an no
one could ascend beyond that intw thout being
seen by them so long as there is ight; while there is
no dangle-r of beinfa‘themselves seen; one passing up,
even w en opposi . the lace where they are seat-
ed, would not perceive t. iem' since in addition to
the shadowing cliff, there is a thick scrub be-
tween them and the traveled track, effectually
screenin them.

The a vantages of the position are apparent to
nll~ and, soon as settled in it, Cypriano once more
calls upon Gaspar to make known the plan he has
hinted at.

Thus again challenged, the gaucho, who hasmean'
while been doing his best to trace out some course
of action, responds. speaking: in a sloW. ml'ditfliiV?
way. For as yet 114- has but a vague idea of what
ought to be done.

 

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" Well,“ he says, “ there‘s but one plan Icnn think
of as at all likely to be successful. It may be, if,
dexterouslv managed; and I dare say we can so,
manugeit. ’ ' . _

Ho pauses, 58”")an to deliberate within himself;
which the two youths perceiving, refmiii to ask fur- ‘
llier questions, leaving him to continue at his own ‘

l
i

time.

Which at length he does, with the odd observa-
tion:

“ One of us must become an Indian." ;

“Become an Indian!" exclaiins Ludwig. “What ,
mean you by that, Gaspar?" _ i

“I mean counterfeit a red‘skin; get disguised as
one, and so steal into their town."

“ Ahi nuwl understand. But that will be a dan-
gerous thing to do, Gaspar. if caught—“

“Of Course it will be dangerous," interrupts the
gaucho. “If ciiuf'iit, whoever of us it he. would no
doubt get his skull criishtadiu by ammo/ta, or maybe I
his liodyhuriit over it slow fire. But {18 you see .
everything‘s dangerous for us now, and one may as 1

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

pouch, I was able to paint Indian, and pass among
thetents ol’ the Guyeurus, and through a crowd. of
savages themselves, without one of them suspecting
the trick. In that way Igot out of their cam and
oil“, and by something of the same 1 may be a le to
get the, dear little Iii/la out of this town of the

"YRS.

“011! do it. Gaspar!" exclaims Cypriuno; “do
that, and all I have. will be yours."

“Yes! all we bothliuve, “adds Ludwig; “all there
is at the Mia/«rm. But resuue my sister, and I‘m
sure mother will make you welcome to every—
thing."

“ 5i: ta 1” retorts the gauche, in a tone of reproach
at being thus bargained with; gentle, however, as
he knows it is from their anxiety about Francesca.

l " Why, hijas m/oa, what are you speaking of? Prom-
; ises to me, a bribe for but doing my duty!

_ "I‘wili be
a fur day before Gaspar Mendez will need that for
doing service to either friend or relative of his dear
dead muster —ay, to the la ing down of his life. 0w-
rumba.’ are we not all em nrked in the same boat,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TUE “'AY OUT OF THE TOVAS TOWN—UNDER THE CEIBA TREE.

well risk that danger as any other. As to counter
feiting an Indian, I propose taking the part myself;
and I should be able to pliiy it pretty well, having.
as you both know, had soiiieexp-«rienee iii that line-
lt was by a trick of the some sortl got off from the
(iiiycurus when Iwas their prisoner up the Pilot)-
mayo, and if I liiidii‘tdniic it neatly, you shouldn’t
now see me here."

“Ilow did you manage it?“ queries Ludwig, nie-
;‘thunicully, oras if to know how he intended doing

ll‘)\\'.

" We", I borrowed the. costume of an ugly savage.
who was set to keep guard over me. having first
taken aloan of his hardwood club. The club I re.
turned to him in a wayhe wouldn't have wished had
he been awake. But he was silly enough to go to
sleep, and was sleeping when I took it—ahl and
510m on after I returned it—ever after. His
dress I‘ kept and wore for more than a week —in
Short, till I got back to Paraguay, for I was over a
week on the road. It titted me well; so well, that
With some coloring stuff I found in the feiiow‘s

 

to swim or sink together? But we sha‘n‘t sink yet:
not one of us. No; we shall swim out of this sea of
troubles, and triumphantly. Cease despairin then,
for after all there mziyn't be so nine]! ( angel;
’l‘liougli Naraguana be dead, there's our above him,
above all, up there in heaven, who will not forsake
us ill‘tlils our extremity. Let us kneel, and pray to
Him. '

And they do kneel: Ludwig, as requested by Gas-
par, repeating the. Lord‘s prayer, with a soleinnity
)cflttiiig the common.

 

CHAPTER XXXIX.
MIDNIGHT l’ltOMENADES.

Rismo from their knees, and resuming their seats
upon the, ledge, they return to the sub'jcct of dis-
course, interriipted by their devotiona interlude;
Gaspar again declaring his intention to disguise
himself as an Indian, and so seek entrance into the
town. No matter what the danger, he is willing and
ready to risk it.

The others consenting, the next question that

i in a Tovus suit, and the stitching isn‘t much.

 

comes before them is, how the disguise is to be got
up. About this there seems it difficulty to Ludwig,
and also to Cypriaiio; though recalling the trans-
formation of the latter into it soldier-crane, so
guickly done by the (left hands of the. gaucho, they

oubt not that he will also find the ways and means
for transformin himself into it red-skin.

“If we only red {1 Tot-as Indian here,“lie says,
“asIliad that sleep ' Guycuru, I'd not be long in
changing clothes wit | ltiin. Well, as we can't bor-
row a dress, I must see what can be done to make
one. Good luck, there‘s no great quantity of Clutfi
A

‘ that‘s needed is a bit of breech-clout, which I can

 

make out of the tail of my shirt; then the poncho
over my shoulders. that Will cover everything."

“ Wouldn‘t the color of your skin, betray you i"

Ludwig thus interrogates, not thinking how easily
the. dextrous gauche can change the hue of his
epidermis, nor recalling what he has said about
having done so to disgmse himself as a Guycuru.

“ It might," returns Gaspar; “ and no doubt would,
ifI left it as it is; which I don‘tintend doing. True,
my face. is not so fair as to need much darkening
beyond what the sun has done for it. I’ve seen
some Tovas Indians with cheeks nigh as white as
my own, and so have you, Senoritos. As for my
arms, legs, and body, the ‘1] require a little brown-
ing, and as it so happens ‘ve got the stuff to give it
them. After the service rendered him by a coat of
that color you may trust the gauche never to go on
any expedition over the painpas without a cake of
bistre brown stowed away in some corner of his al-
parqjae. For the poncho it would be out of place.
As you know, there are many of the common kind
among the Tovas Indians, worn and woven by them;
with some of better sort, snatched, no doubt, from
the shoulders of some poor gauche, found straying
too far from the settlements."

“But, Gaspar," says Ludwig, still doubting the
possibility of the scheme, “ surely such a disguise
as you speak of will never do? In the day ight
they‘d see through it.“

“Ah! in the dayiiilit yes, they might. But I
don‘t intend giving t em that chance. If I enter
their house a all, and I see no other way for it,
that entry must be made in the darkness. I pro-
pose making it tomorrow evening after the sun‘s
gone down, and when it‘s got to be late twilight.

hen they‘ll all be off guard, en aged in driving
their animals into the corialx and ess likely to no-
tice any one strolling about the streets."

"But supposing you to tget safe into the place
and go about it Without a. racting attention, what
would you do?" questions Ludwig.

'; “(that could you?" is the form in which Cypriano
pu s .

"Well, senoritos, that will depend on circum-
stances, and a good deal on the sort of luck in
store for us; still you mustn‘t suppose I‘m trust—
ing all to chance. Gas or Mendez isn‘t the man to
thrust his hand into a ornets‘ nest, without a like-
lipood. nay, a certainty, of drawing some honey out
o it.“

“Then you have such here and now?”interro-
gates Cypriano a learn of rope irradiating his
countenance. for t c figurative words lead him to
believe that the gaucho has not yet revealed the
whole of his scheme for the captive‘s deliverance.

“ Of course I have," is Gaspar‘s rejoinder. “ If I
hadn’t we might as well give everything up, and
take the back track home ain. We won't do
that, while there‘s a chance eft for taking little
Francesca along with us.“

” Never!" exclaims Cypriauo, with determined
em basis. “If I have to go into their town myself,
an die in it, I'll do that rather than return without
mv cousin,”

‘ Be calm, hiio miol“ counsels Gaspar, in a sooth-
ing tone, intended to curb the excnement of the
fiery youth; "I don't think there will be any need
for you either to enter the town, or lay down your
life in it. Certainlyr neither, unless my ian et
spoiled by the ill-luc that’s been so long singing
u out us. ltisn't much of a plan after all; only to
find one of the Indians, to whom I did a service
when they were down at their old (olderia. I cured
him of a complaint, which, but for the medicine ad-
ministered, would have carried him off to the ha py
huntin grounds, where just then he didn‘t wi to
go. T at medicine wasn't mine either. I had it
from the due/'10. But the sick man gave me credit
for it all the same, and swore if I ever stood in need
of his services I could count upon receiving them
sure. From what I saw of him afterward, and we
came to know one another pretty well, I think I
can. If ever there was a red-skin to be trusted it’s
he. Besides, he‘s one of some authority in the
tribe—a sort of sub chief."

“I know another," breaks in Ludwig, as if sud-
denly recoilccting; "one vlio'd help us, too, if we
could oni ' have a word With him. liat‘s Nacena’s
brother, lin." . I

Qi‘priano casts at his _cousm a glance of culiar
imeaning—something like surprise. Not )ecause
the latter had made mention of an Indian maiden
and her brother, both known to himself; but from
Ludwig‘s putting the girl's name first, as though she
were up >rm_ost in is thoughts. And she is;
though t at is a secret the young naturalist has
hithurto kept within his own breast.

Without noticing the glance of scrutiny bent upon
him. he proceeds to explain himself.

“You may remember Kaolin and I were the best.
of friends. He often went fishing with me or
rather I went with him; and I‘m sure he’d stand by
me now, in spite of Aguara."

“So much the better," rejoins Gaspar. “If in
man fail me we can fall back it n yours. What
propose doing, then, is this. \ e must keep quiet,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

' ‘ titul, despite its tin of

 

26

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

 

 

and of course concealed all day to-morrow till after
sunset. We can employ ourselves in the prepara-
tion of my masquerading costume. When it gets to
be twilight, or a little later, I can slip down among
these to 110.9 and o sauntering about like an other
red-skin, till I fin m old patient, which, he being a

i man, there shoul n’t be much dlfilculty in doing.
W en found l’ll make an a cal to him, to help us
in gettin the nirlu out of—’ c‘has it in his tongue
to say “ iimra‘s clutches,” but thinking of the ef-
fectofsuc a phrase falling upon 0 prmno’s ears,
he concluded with the words, “w atever place
they’re keeping her in. ”

Gas ar‘s scheme thus at length declared, seeming
feasib e enou h, and indeed the only one which any
of them can t ink of as at all practicable, the other
two signify assent to it; and its execution, or the
attempt, is finally determined upon. Going on to dis
cuss t 9 steps next best to be taken, they are inter-
ruptcd, and suddenly, by the sound of footsteps—
some one ascending from below. The footfall IS a
ll ht one, but distinct enough for them to tell that
w oevsr makes it is continuing on toward them,
thou h as yet unseen. As already said, the cause-
way sin part overshadowed by the cliff, and within
this shadow keeps the person approaching. For all,
on the latter drawing near there is light enough for
them to make out a ti ure, the better from its being
clad in a drapery 0 white, loose and flowmg, us
though the wearer were a woman. _

And so is she; or, to s eak more correctly 8. girl;
hersex and age reveal to them, as at a. certain
point she steps to the of! side of the path, and the
moon ht falls full upon her, exposing to their
view a ace beautiful as youthful.

Gaspar and Cfipriano both recognize the face, but
say nothing. flerent Ludwig, who at the first
glance 01: of it, unable to restrain himself, me-
chani y ronounces the name:

H  H

 

/ - CHAPTER XL.
A nxsrnusnn or serum.

Foams-raw Ludwig’s exclamation has been ut~
tered in a subdued tone of voice; but lest in his agi-
tation he may speak louder, the gaucho, rasping
him by the arm cautions silence, enjoining be same
on Gypriano. or some seconds not another word
passes between them, nor do they make the all ht-
est stir, all three remaining motionless, and sileu as
sphinxas.

Meanwhile the Indian girl having got opposite the
place where they are seated, is passing on ward with
cautious stag and eyes that interrogate the ground
in front, as she anticipated seeing some one; like
a young hind that has stolen out o the covert, on
hearing the call-bloat of the 

Soon she isfarenou h beyon to give them an op-

ortunity of exchan ng speech without her over-
string it; and of t is the gaucho avails himself,
w :
“ e‘s,keeping an appointment with her lover, I

sugpose.
a little thinks of the painful effect his words
have oduced upon Ludng, as he adds:

“’ e’ll do best to let her go on to their place of
meeting, which is no doubt somewhere near. She
must return this way, and then we can have our in-
terview with her. But where‘s the amantél' A
sluggard,to let the girl he on the ground before
him. That wasn‘t my way, when— See! she‘s com-
ingto a stop."

nd to new she comes, just where the sloping
path passes on at theupper end of the defile, cuter.
ug among the mansoleums. There. standing erect,
she glances inquirineg around, her gaze rangin
along the open Estates between the scaffolds, an
searching the sh ows underneath them.

For a minute or two she remains in this attitude,
without changing it, or making the slight-“st noise,
evidentl looking for a form or listenin for a foot-
step. ut neither seeing the one nor caring the
other, she at length calls out .a name, at first tim-

ldl .
‘Yshebothal” but after an interval in bolder tone.
“Not her lover, after ulli" mutters Gaspar, who

' remembers the name of the sorceress, while Ludwig

is relievrd at hearing of her, as also Cypriano, know-
ing something of Shebotha.

“Only that old bag,” the gaucho goes on; “I won-
der now what the cunt: sprout can be wanting
with her, up here an at this hour of thn night. Some
.deviltry between them, I haven‘t a doubt."

His conjectures arc suddenly l-rought to a close
by a new noise which covers their cars; a sort of
scraping or shuttling, diversifivd by grunts and
coughs, all coming up from below. Turning their

, eyes that way, they see asconding what appears to

'ch

,beahuman figure, but bent forward so as to more

resemble a creature crawling on all fours.

, At the same instant the ndian girl has caught
si ht of it; and standing poised on the platform‘s
e no, she silently awaits its approach, knowing it to
hebotha.

Scrambling on u the steep, at intervals stopping
to take breath w ile she intermittently gives out
hoarse grunts, the bag passes on upward, at length
reaching the spot where the girl stands awaiting
her. Stopping by the side of the latter both are
now seen face to face in the full moonlight; and

. never did moon shine upon faces or figures more

contrasting. On the one side age indicated by a
bent body, thin, skinny arms, features furrowcd
with wrinkle-s, and of most re ulsive aspect, and
eyes sparklin‘ with a sinister ight; on the other,
youth with al its Witching charms; a figure lithe and

Co 111 as any aim growing on the plain below;
natures of class c t pa and a ace exquisite! beau.-
bronze, the eyes brig t with

e the glow of a burnin

[

 

passion. for it is this that has
brou ht the girl thi er.

On y a second or two do they remain silent, till
the sorceress recovers breath, for it is she who
breaks the silence sayin :

“ Nacenawants to spea with Shebotha? On what
subject?"

“Need I tell you, Shebotha? You know.”

“I know that the sister of Kaolin is in love with
our own young «wig/w. That is no secret to others
any more than to me.”

goth, do not say that! I thought no one knew of
it u —-”

“But everybody," interrupts the unfeeling hag.
“And what if they do? Nacena is beautiful, the
belle of our tribe, and need fear no rival: not even
her with the e es of blue, and the tresses of gold,
who also sum er Shehotha’s roof. Nacena is jealous
of the w to ca tive; she has no cause.”

“Oh, good ebothal" cries the young girl in
assionatu appeal, her eyes 5 arklingwith rekindled
ope, “ can you assure me c that? If so, you shall

have all I can give you; my armlets neck orna-
ments, mamas, hummus, everything. Fear not my
rewarding you welll"

“Nacenn. is generous." rejoins the Sorceress, her
eyes sparkling with pleasure at such a wholesale

roiTcr of chattels. “ She, shall have, that assurance,
or Shchotha can give it without fail. See this 2“

While speaking, she has drawn out from under the
skin robe that covers her bony breast what a —
pears to be a small horn, converted Into a vial wi

ottom and stopper. -

“In that," she says holding it up to the light, “is
a fluid, one drop of which given to Aguara will turn
his heart whichever way Shebotha Wishes it turned:
make him love whomsoever she wants him to love,
and that will be as Nacena wants it.”

“Oh! it is good of you, Mammy Sheboths, so
goody!I How shall I ever enough thank or reward

ou. .

” No matter about thanks,” resppnds the-hag with
a knowing leer; “ Shebotha likes etter the reward.
And that you've promised will content her. But
)romises, as Naccna herself knows. are sometimes

adly kept, and should have something to secure
then).|by way of earnest. t can you give me
now?’ r . ‘ '

The girl glances down at her breast, upon which
lie several pendants sustained bva massive chain of

old passing around her neck. Then she holds out

er arms to Show bracelets upon the wrists, beset
with pearls and precious stones, that no doubt once
clasped other wrists‘ than herb—those of e-faoed
doncrllas dwelling in San , 0 or Salts. nclasping
the armlets, one after. snot er, she delivers them to
Shebotha. But the avarlcious beldame isrnot yet
satisfied. With her eyes upon the chain necklet and
its glittering attachments, she nods toward it as
much as to say, “That too." And it, too, is de-
tached, and handed over to her. Then her greedy
eyes go to the fillet around the rl‘s tem les, and

an embroidered belt which enclrc es her we 1.. But

these, though pretty ornaments, are not of great in-,
trinsic value; and as Shebotha has in view a further
levy of blackmail at a future time, she can take
them too. I

For the present she appears satisfied, all the more
as she gloats over the treasure. which for a while
shei‘cnsts her eves upon without speaking. Then
slipping the various articles, one after another. into
the bosom of her dress, she resumes speech, say-

ng:

"Shebotha has other spoils besides that s ken
of; one )owerful above all which puts to s esp—.—
ahl a s so}; from which the sleeper never more
awakes. f the other should fail to act, and
Aguura—J‘ '

“But you said it could not fail,” breaks in the
irl. her countenance again clouding over. "Is
here a doubt, Mam Shebotha?”

“ There’s always uncertainty in these things," re-
joins the sorceress; “and in the love spel more
than any othcr. As you know, love is the strongest

aslsion, and therefore the most difficult to con-
ro '

All this, by way of making safe her bargain, for
well knows shehcr spell will'not bring back Aguara's
love, lost to Nacena: and as the bulk of the reward
promised will depend upon this. she has yet another
proposal to make that may insure its success. She
actsns om- who would hedge a bet. and drawing
closnr in the victim of her delusion, she says:

“If Nacenu should ever want the pale-face put
to sloop by that other spell, Shebotha will adminis-
ter it.”

As tho fiendish proposal is spoken in a whisper,
the throw, listrnvrs (in not, hear what it is. Tin-y can
only guess by the behavior of the young girl that
some offer has been made which she indignantly
rejects, as can be told by her rejoinder, and the air
in which she delivers it.

“ No!" she exclaims, starting back with an ex-

n‘ession of horror upon her countenance. “ Never

ihotl If Aguara be untrue to me, it is no fault of
the )alc~fn.cc. Iknow that; and have no vengeance
for ier. But. for him—wahl if he have deceived me,
it is not she, but he shall suffer punishment. And
punished hc will be by my brother.”

“Obi your brother!" returns the sorceress, with
a sneer, evidently in anger at having her offer so re—
ceived. “ If Kaolin can right your wrongs, let him.
So," she adds, making to move off, “ I suppose you
haven't any more need for me or my services."

“If she raven’t, I have," cries Gaspar, springing
out from the place of concealment, and sewing old
of the bag, while at the same instant Cypriano
fiings his arms around the Indian girl.

“Come, Mam Shebothal" continues the gauche,
“it‘s my turn to have stalk with you. ’3

 

 

She makes an effort to escape, and would cry out,
bfilt cannot, with those sinewy fingers around her
t roat.

“ Stop your strugglingi" he commands, giving
her a shake till her old bones crackle at every joint.
“ A cry, a word from you above a whisper, and I‘ll
shut your wind pipe so that you‘ll never grunt
through it again. Come, muchachos/ Let's on to
the other side: one of you bring the girl! Vamos 1”

Raising the bag in his arms, he bears her off, with
no more care for her comfort than if she were a
bundle of' rags. Nacena is home more tenderly, in
Ludwig‘s arms, into which she has been transferred
by a sort of tacit understanding betWeen him and
his cousin, the latter. walking alongside. No threat
hears she, nor needs it to enforce silence. For she
is no more apprehensive of injury, now knowin
that he who carries her has been the playmate 0
her brother. Above all, does she feel reassured, on
hearing whispered in her ear:

“ Have no fear, Nacenai Am not I the bosom
friend of. your brother? 1 m'lt not deceive you."

Does' she note the earnestness of his words, and
the significant emphasis given to those last spoken?
Whether or not, she refrains making reapinder, and
suffers herself to be borne on throng the scaf—
fold tombs .w1thout resistance, and silent as the
forms rcposmg upon them.

CHAPTER XLI.
A rams]: usmscrsn.

Smear across the cemetery goes Gas ar with
Shebotha in his arms; nor stops he till bac on the
spot where the ath leads down to the outer plain,
Arririn there, edeposits his living burden upon
the cart , not gently, but dumping her down with a
rude violence which makes her' bones rattle a sin.
Still he does not let her out of his arms altoget er;
but with a threat, once more warnin her to be si-
lent, he keeps fasthold of her, C priano has
brought him a lazo from the saddle 0 one of the
horses near by. Looping this round the body of
the sorceress. and taking a few turns of it about
her arms and ankles, he spreads his poncho over her
head, knotting the rope around her neck, and so
mufihng her be and the chance of either hearing or
making horse heard. All this done, he again
raises er from the ground, and carrying her some
distance back among the scaffolds, he binds her to
a corner post of one'with the end of the law yet un—
used. Hispurpose in thus disposing of her is not
clear-to his companions, of whom he has left
in charge of the Indian girl, who, on her part
makes no attempt to escape. Instead, releaser
from Ludwi ’3 arms, stands silently by his side,

 

neither trem ling nor showing si of fear. Why
should she, wit those words 0 assurance once.
more whispered in her ear?

And now Gaspar gettingback to where she stands,
and speaking in the Tovas tongue sufficient] y well to
be understood by her, says: .

“ So, 'muchacka mia‘! you see who we are, and
know us all three. We know you ’Nacena; even to
your tenderest secret; which has ’been revealed to

us in the dialogue held between yourself and
91'!

Mam Shebotha. , of that we’ve heard,
with the lies she’s‘heen in you. And let me tell
you that of all the wi im osture planned,
here‘s but one thing she could ve done, which
was, to rid you of her you deem a; rival. And she
could only do that by doing murder. That was
what she meant by her sleeping draught. “

The young girl shudders, listening to what she
knows Is but theltruth.

“ ‘Twas good of you to reject the foul proposal,"
goes on the gauche, “and'indignantly, as we know

on did. 'We saw and heard it all. And now we

ave a proposal to offer which you won‘t reject.
I’m sure on wen't, Nacena."

She ma es no rejoinder, but stands waiting to re-
ceive it.

"It is," he continues, “that you shall still rid
yourself of that rival, not b doing wrong, but right
and justice. With your elp we shul take her
away to aplace where Aguara will never more set
eyes upon her. But, as I‘ve said, we stand in need
of your assistance, and you must give it, Nav
cena."

“You will, you Willi” interposes Cypriano, in
tones of earnest appeal.

“Yes, dear Nacena," follows Ludwig, his words
still warm: “ I‘m sure you will. Remember, she is
my sister, and that you yourself have a brotherl"

ad they but known it, there was no need for all
this petitioning. Even while Gaspar was speaking,
and 011;; before he had finished, the Indian maiden,
with the quick. subtle instinct of her race, (iivined
what he was aiming at, the very end she herself de-
sires, and might have proposed to thvm. The same
instinct, however, prompts her to feign ignorance
of it. as,evinced by her interrogative rejoinder:

“ How can Nacena assist you? In what way?”

“By heliping us to get the pale-face out of her

t

W

prison.” is Gaspar who speaks. “She is im»
prisoned, is she not?“
“. he is ”

“And where is she keptf” again questioned the
gauche.

prriano trembles as he listens for the answer.
Hefcarsi. half expecting it to be, “ In the toldo of the
czlvzrme.

It is a relief to him, when the girl, pointing to-
ward the dark obgect bound to the scaffold post,
gayse"‘ln her [cl 0. She has charge of the cap-
we.

“ Bye/m!” ejaculates Gaspar, with delight in his
eyes. as in those of C priano. “Nothing could be
better than that. Am n0w that we have Shebotha
here, no one will be guarding the pale-face prisoner,
will there?"

 

 

 

 

Gaspar, the Gaucho. -

 

2'7

 

 

“Alas, yes." responds the Indian girl, her words
with the tone telling that she has entered into the
spirit of their enterprise . ‘ .

“ Who?” interrogates Gaspar. “ What is hkif it
be a man?"

“ Yes, a man. A white man, like yourselves; one
who has been long with our tribe—«a prisoner taken
many years ago, from some of the countries south.
He is Shebotha’s own slave, and watches over the
pale-face captive when she is away.”

Again the gaucho ejaculates, “me1” adding
in satto woe. to his two companions: “It seems bet-
ter still; a bit of rare good luck, if this white man,
whoever he be, hasn’t become Indianized, as I’ve
known some to do." Then to the girl: “ Shebotha's
slave you say? In that case he, too, should be
wani ng to regain his liberty, and we may give him
that chance. If need be we can take him along, too.
You understand, Nacena?”

“I do."

“ Then you agree to assist us?"

“ Say you do!" urges Cypriano.

“My sister, Nacenal” adds Ludwig.

In response to their united appeals, she points to
the sorceress, saying:

“ Her vengeance is to be dreaded.
wish me, Shebotha—"

"Won’t hurt a hair of your head,” says Gaspar,
interrupting. “Nor can’t. “She'll not be near on»
ough to do you any injury. That worthy woman is
on the eve of a long Journey to be made in our com-

any, if you agree to assist us in getting her away.

on do a ree to it, amir/a mia r"

The gir fully comprehending, and relieved at the
thought of the drea ed sorccress being taken out of
the way, at length not only signifies assent to their
Scheme, but embraces it with alanrity. Its success
will be to her advantage as to theirs, ridding her of
that rival feared, and it might be restoring to her
the affections of him. on whom she has fixed her
own.

And now that confidence is established between
her and her captors, she ‘ves them a. full account
of how things stand inst e folderfa, and the lace
where Franccsca isconflned. Having heard w 'ch,
Gaspar counsels her how' to act, as a last word say-

inp: ‘ ,

“Tell this Munro, who has charge of the captive,
he need no longer be a risoner himself nor She-
botha‘s slave. Sayto that men of his own
race and color are near, ready to rescue and take
him back to his is wherever they may be.
stirer that will been 1 ii tognin him to our side,
and get his help also "

The girl hesuates for a. time; then answering,

says:
‘ No, not enough, I fear."

“ But why '2“

“ The white_man is not in his senses. He has lost
them long ago. The little left him is ‘ven to She-
botha. He fears her as all our peo e do, but he
more than any. She has surely left im with com—
mands to keep close watch over the captive. He
dares not disobeg' her; and it may be im ossible for
me to speak wit the pale-face girl, muc more get
her away from him." '

“ Cosmic!” exclaims Gaspar, hi
again turning rave. “There will be a diniculty
there, I see it. i the man‘s erased as you say he is,
Nacena. You think he wouldn't let you s with
the captive, unless you had permission rom She-
botha?"

“ He would not—will not.”

“ In that case all may be idle, and our scheme go
for naught. Par Dias! what’s to be done?"

Pressing his head between his hands, the gauche
stands considering while the other three in silence
await the result. His deliberation is not for long; a
bright idea has flashed across his brain, and with
cpuutcnance also recovering ils brightness, he ex-
1: aims: ’ A

“ G/aoiusrl Dior! Iknow how it can be done; I
think I know."

‘ Ludwig and Cypriano have it on their tongues to
inquire what he means. But before either can spfihk
a word he is off toward the scaffold-post to w h
Shebotiia is tied.

I Rcachin it, he is seen with arms outstretched and
"1 l‘allid IJ fly, as though he were setting her free.
Far from tr111“. however, is his intention. Hi! but un-
dors the knot around her neck, and raising the
poncho, clutches at something which encircles her
throat. He had noticed this something while throt-
tling her when first caught; it had rattled between
his fingers as the beads of a rosary, and he knew it

If I do as you

s countenance

 

to be such with a slight difference— the beads being ‘

human-tecthl A remembrance, moreover, admon-
ishcs him that this ghastly necklace was worn by
the 5,01‘081‘995, not for adornment but dread. 1t
was,1n fact, one of her weapons 0 weird mystery
and power, and an idea had occurred to him that it
mightnow be used against herself.

Havmg detached it from her neck, and replaced
the poncho on her head, he returns to where he had
left the others, and holding out the string of teeth,
Says to Naccna:

.‘ Take this; present it to the crazy pale-face; tell
him Shebotha sent. it as a token authorizing you to
not for her, and if he be not altogether out of his
' Wits, 1 warrant that will get you ndmission to the

presence of the pale-face captive. For anything be-
yond, you will best know how to act for yourself."

e girl gran s the hideous symbol, a gleam of in
tclllgence lightin up her swarth but beautiful fncc.
1‘01' She. too. ant cipntes the effect it will have on
Shebotha‘s slave, from an actual knowledge, not by

guessing, as with Gaspar.
Know ng herself now at liberty and free to d art,
Without saying another word she turns her ack

upon them, and gliding away with the agile, stealthy

 

 

 

ste peculiar to her race, soon passes out of their

Sig t.

They stand looking after her, till her dark figure
disap ears amid the shadows of the scaffolds. But
the nave no doubt of her fidelity, no fear that she
wil fail to do what she can for the fulfillment of her
promise. The keeping it is secured by her own in-
terested motive. for the passion impelling her to act
on their behalf, though purely selfish, can be trusted
as truth itself.

 

CHAPTER XLII.
A DELUDED KEEPER.

Mmmr’s hour is past, the moon has gone
down, and in the Indian town there is darkness and
silence. Every one isasleep, or seems to be, since
no light shines either in toldo or tent, neither can a
human figure be seen in the tent or anywhere.

At some distance _ from the houses, however,
among thickly-standing trees, and close in to the
base of the hill, is the quiet dwelling-place of
Shebotha, half cave, half hut; and in this burns
a faint light, being a dip candle of crude beeswax,
with a wick of the fiber of the pira plant. By its
red flame, mingled with much smoke a collection
of curious objects is dimly discernible; not articles
of furniture, for these are few, but things apper-
tainng to the craft in which Shebotha is supposed
to have skill~ demonology. They are the bones and
skins of monkeys, with those of snakes lizards, and
other reptiles; teeth of the alligator and jaguar; the
proboscis-like snouts of the tupir an remanoir,
or rent ant-bear, with a variety of other like
oddities, furnished by the indi enous creatures of
Chaco in every ue artment of t e zoological world
-—birds, quadrup s, insects, reptiles, an fishes.

This motley conglomeration is for the most part
arranged against the inner wall of the hut,’ that
opposrte‘the entrance, so as to be observable by
any one looking in at the door, or even passing
near by. For its purpose is to impress the super-
stitious victims of Shebotha‘s craft with a belief in
her Witching ways. And to give this a more terri-
fying and supernatural character, a human skull,
representing a death’s-head, With a pair of tibia for
crossbones underneath, is placed centrally and
prominently upon the wall, '

The same light that so faintly illuminates this
paraphernalia of objects, many of them repulsive,
also shines on one that is pleaein —the form of a

oung girl with face wonderfu y fair. For it is
cesca albergler.

At this after-mi might hour she is the sole occu-

nt of the but its owner, Bhebotha, being abroad.

or itis the self-same hour and instant when the
sorceress has the rosary of teeth snatched so ruder
from her neck. She is seated on the edge of a «arm
or cane bedstead. of the allet kind her head buried
in her hands, through t 6 white ngsrs of which
her long golden tresses fall in rich profusion, scat-
tered over and mingling with the fur of the great
plambpais wolf which serves as a sort of mattress for
t e e .

The candle has burnt down into the socket of its
rude stick, but at intervals flares bright, with a
crackling, spluttering noise as it,does so, showing
upon her features the same sad look as when she
was being carriedhithcr a_captive; only that her
face is still aler, and the expression upon it telling
of a des a r deeper and more settled. She has
slept but ittle from the hour of her entrance under
'Shebotha’s roof, and no great deal since she last
lay in her own bed at home. 'What sleep she now
gets is only in short snatches, when fired nature
can no longer continue the struggle, with thoughts
all'the while torturing her. No wonder at sweet

slumber being thus denied her, with such memories

to keep her awakel In fancy ever before her seem
the face of her father, with that look of agony she
last saw upon it, as he lay upon the cunt], Welter-
ing in his gore. And in fancy, also. 3 e boliolds the
rufilan, Valdez. standing above the“ prostrate form,
waving over it his blood-stained spear, as in tri—
umph. a very demon exultant.

But her painful thoughts are not all of the past.
She has doubts and, fears also for the future, dark
as she reflects on her own situation, and what will
he done to her; but still darker when she thinks of
those left behind and far away. What. will become
of lwr dear mother and brother? What of him,
dear ahl pei'lia sdcarer than either—her handsome
cousin? For ypriano’s affection for her is fully
reciprocated.

Not strange then the sadness ovcrsprendiug her
features, nor the wcixrht of woe. in Iwr heart. as she
reflects on tho faii- that may be his ml tlwirs. For
she knows they are all in danger. rim-at and renal“

 

‘ danger; has known it ever since seeing Viildcz, the

vague/mo. consoriiiig with the Toms Indians, and on
friendly terms with their chief. 0ft she had asked
herself the question whither he went afterward?
Did he return to Paraguay. or go direct to the es-

r tnncia, there to complete. his diabolical work, begun

by murder, to end in that with oilwr crimes? in
any case, lie would not likely leave them unharmed
lat? th‘c estaiicni, as the captive girl too truly appre-

em S.

With such thoughts and fears to agitate herbreast,
no wonder she should be awake while every one
around her seems slumbcring. But on this night,
and at this hour. something besides hinders her from
seeking repose, that being the absence of Shebotha,
which, for certain reasons, renders her more than
ordinarily apprehensive. * In truth, she is greatly
alarmed by it. Never before has the sorceress been
out of her table to Sta for an continued time: above
all, never during the ourso night Why should she
be absent now, and so long?

 

While asking herself these questions, the captive

girl hasno intent nor thought to take advantagiev of
‘hebotha’s absence. and make trial to escape. ell
knows she that would be idle, and she could not it
she tried. For tho h the owner of the but, her
prison cell, is off watc , there isone on it a man sit-
ting, or squatted, just outside the door. No red-man
either, but one with a skin white, if not so soft and
fair as her own. He is himself a prisoner; and who
possibly once, as she, felt distressed b his ca -
tivity. It may have been this very fer 'ng whic
has made him what he now is—a witless idiot, re—
signed to his fate. In any case, he seems to be con-
tented to be Shebotha’s slave; and, as ignorant of a
there being any better, serves her with a fidelity
worthy of a better mistress. No watch-dog at that.
toldo door was more to be trusted than he.

She inside has no thought now, nor ever had, of
tempting him to be untrue to his trust. Even could
he be induced to let her pass out, what purpose
woulditserve? None of any value or advantage. Of
herself, she could not make her way home, and he
is not the sort of a man to see her safe through
morethan two hundred miles of wilderness. The
idea is too hopeless to be entertained, and she does
not entertain it—never has.

The thoughts that now occupy her mind are not
of how she may escape from her captivitg, but
dwelling u n a theme altogether different. he is
thinking w owill be the next one to darken the door
of the hut; fearing it may be neither Shebotha her—
self, nor yet her slave, but the man who is master
of both—Aguarsi

.True, the young cacique has not as yet oflered her
either outrage or insult; instead still lag) roaches
her With courtesy, and a pretense of (rich srhip. For
all, something, it may be instinct, admonishes her
that he is acting under a mask, which he may at any
moment cast aside, reveali the monster. as she
believes him to be. And wit sufficient reason,re~
calling that tragedy which deprived her 01’s. father;
and sure, despite a 1 his protestations, that Aguara
played a willing part in it.

Vhile thus apprehensively reflecting, she hears «

footsteps, as of some one approaching the place.
The sound causes her to start to her fwt and stand
listening, with a hightened expression of fear upon
her face. For, ]although the i'ootfall is distant, and
only distinguisl ble as such by the ru stle it makes
among the dead leaves, she can tell it is not that of
Shebotba, with whose haltin gait and shuflling
stop her car has grown fam liar. Whose, then?
Who would be coming to the but at that time of
night—now morning—save Shebotha herself? None
but she and those 0 her belonging dare do so either
by night or by day. For the tolda of the sorceress is
asort of sanctuary, tabooed to the people of the
tribe. and no one may _enter or approach its sacred
precincts, without baring her permission, or being
hidden by her. Yes: one may, and can—Agave. I

Still darker shows the fear upon the face of the
captive irl, as she thinks of the special privilege
accord, to the rdl'iqllt’, of which she has been
made aware. It must be he who is drawing near,
and with him a danger she has long vaguely appre—
bended.

For some seconds she remains intentl listenin .
her young heart pulsing audibly within er busing.
It beats easier as the footfall draws higher, and she
can tell it is not that of a man. e tread in too
light and elastic. It cannot be Aguara who ap-
proaches.

She is still surer of its not bein he, as the foot-
steps, having come close up to the int. cease to be
heard, and in their place a difi'erent sound comes in
through the open door, a feminine voice speaking
in soft, dulcct tones.

The speech is not addressed to the ca five her-
self, bnt to him who watches outside. A or an in»
terchange of ordinary salutation, and an inquir by
the watcher as to what is wanted, this evident y in’
tone of surprise, the soft voice responds:

“ I want to speak with the little pale-face.”

" You cannot. Shebotha forbids it. N 0 one may
enter here without her permission," '

“ But I have more than her permission—her com—
mands._ She has sent me with a message to the
pale-face. At this moment she has a. matter else—
where. and could not come herself.“

“ You may be speaking the truth, Willa. but how
am I to know?" uestions the‘man, as he regards
her with an incre ulous store. “I don‘t goso far
as to say you are telling a lie. All I say is, that
the thing isn‘t at all likely. Mam.Shebotha‘s not
the sort to trust her affairs to such a chiqzu‘tita as
you.” .

"You know me, don't you?”

“Oh, yes: you are Kaolin‘s sister—her they call
the belle of the iribe: your name’s Nnccna.‘.’

“It is so; and surely you‘ll believe me? The sis«
ter of Kaolin would not speak false. You cannot
suppose I am deceiving you?”

“Alix” he rejoins, with his words heavi a sigh;
“ it is often those who are most beautiful 35m most.
deceive.” -

Possibly the memory of some such deception, an
experience of times long (past, has been awakened
within him. It shapes an imbittcrs his speech, as
he continues:

“I‘Can’i‘l won‘t believe you, though you are
Kaolm’s SlStel‘: and ever so fair to look upon.”

“ But you Will, when you look upon this.”

She draws out the. string of teeth snatched from
the neck’of the sorceress, and holds it up to his
eyes, addng

“ThAt I bring from Shebotba hersolf. She gave
it me to show you as a sign that I have her per-
mission to speak with the pale~face—-nay, her oom- ~
mand, as I’ve said. Now”

At sight of the hideous symbol, which heinstantly ' A

I

 

 

‘ CHAPTER XLIII.

’ “Why do you ask that?" is the iii‘errocntive re~

 

 

38.- 

Gaspar, the Gaucho.

 

 

recognizes, his incredulitfy comes to an end; for he I
knows how jealously t in Sorceress guards that !
token and that no one could have obtained it from
her Without some special purpose or to do a service
to l’leI‘Sf’lf, Wliiit this may be, he questions not, nor
longer forbids entrance to the but, but nods toward
the door, as much as to say:
“ You can go in!”

I AN UNLOOKED FOR DELIVERER.

THOUGH the dialogue between Nacena and She-
botha‘s slave was in the Tovas tongue, she, over—
hearing it from inside the but, has sufficient ac-
quaintance with it to make out that the Indian girl
is seeking an interview with herself. But for what
purpose she has not the most distant idea, and can-
not conceive why it should s eciall be sou *lit at
that strange hour. when everybody e se is abc . She
knows Naccna by name, as by sight, having on many
occasions seen her at the old tolderia. But the two
have never had acquaintance, nor held conversa-
tion; the sister of Kaolin always seeming shy with
her, and never visitin the estancia, as did the other
girLs of the tribe. ore than this, she remembers
that whenever of late she by chance met the savage
maiden, she had observed a scowl upon the latter‘s
face, which she could not help fancy iiig was meant
for herself. Nor had her fancy been astray; since
in reality for her was the black look put on; though
for what reason she could not tell, having never,
that she could think of, done ought that should give
offense to Kaolin‘s sister. Besides, was not Kaolin
himself the bosom friend of her brother? Still, now
recalling that. scowl so often seen upon Naceiia‘s
countenance, with a suspicion, purer intuitive, of
what may have caused it, not strange she should
deem the visit of the Indian girl boding no good to
her, but, instead, something of ill.

As the latter steps inside the (aldn, however, and
the light falls upon her face. the captive can there
see no sign of malice nor token of hostility. In—
stead, it s lit u by asmilc which seems iatherto
speak of friends lip and protection. And, in truth,
such are among the sentiments now moving the In-
6 on girl to action. At the res ect of being for-
mer rid of a rival she sees so cip ess, the feeling of
jealousy has passed awa ' out of her heart, as its
frown from her face; an she ap roaches the cap-
tive with the air of one who has 0th the wish and
the powerto give liberty. She at the first speaks
‘abrnptly, asking:

l “Do you wish to be free?"

 

"cinder, in a tone distrustful. For that smile may
be but to deceive.

“Because Nacena has it in her power to give you
freedom, if you desire it.”

“Desire it!” exclaiins the captive. “Naceiia is
but mocking inc,” she adds. involuntarily falling
into a figurative mode of s ni-ch peculiar to the
American Indian. “Indeed, do desire it. But how
could Nacena set me at liberty?“

“ taking the pale-face to her penpl"."

“They are far away 7hundrcds of iiiiics. Would
Nacena herself take me to them?"

“No. That is not needed. The pale-face is mis-
taken. Other friends are not fair away, but near.
They wait for her to come out to them. ’

The captive gives a start of surprise, the light of
hope and joy, long absent from her eyes, rekindling
in them, as another light breaks upon her.

“ Of whom does Naceiia s cak?‘

“0f your brother, the air-haired youth, your
cousin the dark Paraguayan, and tho gaucbo who
has guided thcin hither. All three are close to the
wider/(1,011 the other side of the hill, as I‘ve. said,
expecting you. Nacena has spoken with them, and

romised she will conduct you to where thny are.

Vlilte sister!" she adds, in a tone of unmistakable
sincerity, at the same time drawing closer to the
captive, and tenderiy taking her by the hand, “do
not show distrust, but let Naccna keep “(‘1‘ word.
She will restore you to your friends, your brother;
ah! to one who waits for you with anxiety keencr
than all i“

At the last words the captive bonds upon her
would~be deliverer a wildered, wondering look.
Is it possible Naccna has knowledge of her tender-
est secret? It must be so; but how can she have
learnt it? Sun-1y CyLll'lZUIO. whom she says she has

seen outside and spo en withmsurcly he could not
have revealed it, would not! li‘ranccsca forgets
,tliat the Indian girl was for years a near neighbor
to her father‘s cstancia; and though never a visitor
there. with the keen intuition of ier race was like
enough to have learnt that the relationship between
her and her cousin had something in it beyond mere
Cousinly aifection.

While she is still cogitating within herself how
Nucena could have come to this knowledge, and

wondering the while, iliolalter breaks in upon her
wonderment, once more urging h -r to flight, again
speaking ofhiiii who is near and dear, so anxiously
ex ectin her.
t Heat 8 not such pressing appeal. For the cap—
tive girl, licr sin-prim once past, is but too willing
to embrace the opportunity so unexpectedly offered,

and léy one so unlikely to offer  .Tllb'l‘t‘fol‘t‘q witn-
out urihcr hesitation, she Signiiics acceptance,
saying:

I will trust you,Nacena. You have called me
your white sister, and I believe you sincere. You
would not speak so if you mount inebarin. Take

i
The Indian giil iigain taking it, but with firmer ‘
grasp than before, turns ln-r face for the door, ziiid l
is about iostep toward it, when Sllf‘ remembers the ‘
watcher without: an obstruction sl 0 had for the ‘
tiiiic forgotten. Will he bzir their ' A cloud
comes over her brow, as she asks lll‘l'Si‘lf the ques' ‘
tion; for, mentally answering it, Sllt‘ thinks he most ;
probably will. i
The other observing her hesitation, and quite ‘
comprehending it, main-s- no inquiry about], the
' OJUPi

 

 

 

   

cause. That is already declared in the
lzitcly Overheard by lli‘l'; and as lie outside . iki-ly ,
to be listening, and may overhear them, the two

take counsel together. speaking in whispers.
Naccna, from a better knowledge of the situation, i
is of course the chicf adviser. and it ends in her ,
determining to show a hold front, and p: out as ,
if already armed with Shebothn‘s perm on. If ‘
interrupted, they can then make a rush for it. 1n 1
short, after a hurried consultation, they can think i
of no other wa ', much less a better one. For by i
the shuffling o footsteps, and a wheezing noise, 

  

"Thch it is: but with all, I can‘t allowlici‘, the pale—
face, logo with you. it might be as much as my
life is worth." '

“But what is y“ life worth wiilioutlibcrtyf"

Ir. is not hzicei“, ..'liri puts this qucsuon, but the
pale-i} e herself Is‘pczikingtoliiin“ lieriiativetongue,
as his: He gives a sudden start on hearing ir, and
rezoi‘ds the capt' 0. girl with astnrc of astonishment,
rubbing his 0y as though just awakened from a
llill’J-t'tllilililli i sleep.

“ Aliwt-h I“ he exclaiins. excitedly. “ What 's that?
Liberty diel you say? Li icrty‘: Mine‘s gone long
ago. 'in but a poorslave-- Sbcuothn's slave. I can

 

 

 

“ never be free again; no. I/ri'i'rl”

“ You may be free now—this very moment—if you
wish it "

“If I wish it! Ila, liii, ha! That‘s a good jokei
If I wish it! Only show nu- the way, and let Mam
Shebotlia go to?"

“ Never Inliitl Mam Shcbotlia. Liston tome, who
am of the same race and people as yourself. There
are some of them now near, who have come to take

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shebotha‘s slave being aiilicted with asthma, they
can tell that licis close by the (low:
Soon as resolved how to act, tiit Indian girl, still

door, and passing over the threshold side by side,
they present themselves to the sentry, Niicena say—
mg:

“In going in I forgot to tell you my errand from
Mam Siiebotha. She biidc llll: bringr [hn pain-face to
where she is lie-'si-lf. You see, I am inkiizi: iii-r."

“ You cannot take 1101‘ out of 1h:- Iolv/n,” rejoins
the man in ii tone of dogged denial. " You must
not' Shebotba would kill me if] permitted if.“

“ int I liltVI‘ Siiebotlm's (-oiiiiiiaiid to do so."

" liow ml) ito know that?“

"Y’ou forget what I‘ve said, and what I‘ve given
you.

She points to the Strange rosary, which he had
taken from her, and still retains, possibly as a

 

me where you will; I am ready to go with you.“
Saying which, she holds out her hand, as if offer-
ing to be led.

  

voucher a ralnst any mistake that may arise. _
1 “No, I on‘t,“lie rcjoins,liolding the string up

before her eyes, and shaking it till the teeth rattle. .

holding the captive by the hand, loads llt‘l‘ on to tho I

HAPPINESS AT LAST.

whom youlefr long ago. Why should you not go
back to them?"

" Cara/Jib i,"‘ lm cries out, as if the sound of his
I native tongue had biougiit back to remembrance

one of its most common rxclamations Lnd iiloii"
I with it a (lcsiic to i'i-tiirn to the place where be 18.57.
I liviirdit s mkcn. " Why should I not? If you Vt'lll

take me, will."

“ Alil I’d not only take you, but be glad of your
5 company. No» minor 1"
It is still the captive girl who spPakR, and at the

lust words, pronounced in a tone of half-(encourage-
l Illl‘lit, halfAconiniand, she stretches out her hand,

and tzikiiiglinld of that of livrliito jailer, leads him

off, us Li. rough pampas colt just tamed and gentled.
l The Indian girl, astonished atlhe spirit shown by

the lllll" poi. 'zice, and delighted with a success

which may 1: )ve advantageous to herself, says not
‘ a. word, but Siiirts forward in front of the, two, innkv
,’ ing mute pantomimic signs tonguide them in the di-
rection they are to go.

E me home to my friends. You must have friends too,

«.7,

,.
ful.

 

carnaun __._. .

and (1
thick (
One pzi
83 no“
“ "I‘n
Stunt (.
find 1“.
though
i-‘Vi'n tli
thorn,”
01’ tin-n
those’ ,1
"r then
smell u

PM )ose

{liii hm.

“And

f om a g
..

 

 

 

 

 

who“,4-

nds too,
i not go

id of his
nibrance
1d alon
; be his
you Will

i of your

1d at the
icon rage‘

y' Gaspar, the Gaucho.

’29-

 

 

CHAPTER XLIV.
m UNLUCKY mans.

Soon as Nscena had started on her return to the
town, the gaucho and his conw ions commence
making preparations to descenc 'r‘v .m the hill. Not
by the road leading down to the ' olderia, but that
by which they came up. For before her parting
with them the Indian girl and Gaspar had held fur-
ther speech; she imparting to him additional infor.
mation of how thin stood in the tribe, he in turn
giving her more de hailed instructions how to act in
the event of her being able to obtain an interview
with the pale-face ca. tive, and get her away from
the place where con ned. In the programme ar-
ranged between them the final part to be played by
N acena would be her conducting the captive round
to fthe other Side of the hill, where the rescuers
would be in waiting to receive her. Delivered to
them, the action of the Indian girl would be at an
end, so far as that affair was concerned, While theirs
had yet to be considered.

The place where they were to await her was, of
course, mutually understood; by the entrance to
the uphill ath under the great Crib’l tree. Nacena
knew it we , having oft traversed that path and re-
clined in the shadow of the tree, lured under it
from the earliest days of childhoor. For it was a
gretty s t, much frequented by the younger mem-

ers of he community when out for promenade on
the plain or nutting among the palm’groves that
Studded it; a sort 0 rendezvous or stopping place,
from the two routes to the town here diverging, the
shorter though by far the more difficult being that
over the cemetery hill. or the roundabout one
G451)“. of course, knew nothin . But he knew the
0921’“, and the way back to it' a onhis side needed.
The girl had trodden both hundreds of times, and
was acquainted with their every reach and turning.
She_would come anyhow, and no fear of her not
finding the way. Their only fear was of her comiug
unaccompanied.

Least of all has Ludwig this apprehension. In-
stead full confidence that the Indian girl will bring
Francesca back with her. Strange this; but stran-
ger still, that while overjoyed with the thought of

is sister being delivered from captivity, his {0y
should have a sting of sadness in it. like a. min 1 ng
of shadow and sun. This due to his suspicion o the
motives actuating her who has promised to be his
sister‘s deliverer. Nacena is not their friend for
mere friendship's sake. Nor his because of the for.
mer fellowship existin between him and her own
brother. Instead jea ousy is her incentive, and
what she is_ doing for their benefit, is but done for
the thwartin of Aguara. -

Though he as expressed his confidence that they
will soon see Nacena, he is silent about these sus-
picions. There is no time to speak of them if he
would. For in a few seconds a ter Nacena‘s sepa-
ratin from them, Gaspar gives the signal foraction,
and a three become engaged in getting ready their
horses for a return to the lain.

“ r Dias!" mutters t e aucho while slipping
onhis bridle. “Idon’t much ancv remaining longer
in this melancholy place. Though high and airy, it
mEYn't be wholesome. If after all that brown
beauty should change her mind, and play us false,
We d be in a predicament, found up here—a regular
trap. with no chance of retreating from it. So the
,SOOperwe‘re back to the bottom of the hill the safer

twrll be. There we’d at least have some hope in
the Speed of our horses—if in the end we have to
run for it. Let us down at once.” *

Having: by this time finished ad'usting his bridle,
he“hauds the reins to Cypriano, a ding:

You hold this, sehorito, while I go after She-
botha. Botheration to the old hag. She‘ll be a
trouble to us, to say nothin of the extra wei ht for
our poor horses. After a she‘s not very eavy;
only a bag of bones."

But, Gas r, are you in earnest about ourtaki'ng
he}: along wigh us?” asks Cypiiano.

ow are we to help i ,th0 miof If we leave
her here she’d be back in to“ 11 before we could get
started—that is if we have the good luck to get
started at all. I needn’t point out what would be
the upshot of that. Pursued as a matter of course,
gen-incl], and immediate. True we might leave her

‘ to the post, and mumed as she is. But then
she d be missed by to-morrow morning, if not soon-
er, and they‘d be sure to look for her up here. No
likelier lace for such as she among these scaffolds;
except ied to a scaffold of another sort, and in a
somewhat diflerent way." .

The gauche pauses, partly to enjoy his own jest,
at which he is grinning, and partly to consrder
xgether Shebotha can be disposed of in any other

“Widens suggests another, asking:
by couldri two take her in amon these trees
811d lie her to one of them? Theres iinderwood
“110k enough to conceal her from the eyes of an
one Farming by, and with the rnuii‘lc over her he ,
as now, she couldn't or out that they‘d hear her.”
"’Twould never do,‘ rejoins Gaspar, after an in—
stunt of reflection. “ Hide her as we mi lit they‘d
find her all the same. These red-skins, alt-naked

though they are, can glide about among bushes,

even thorny ones, like slippery snakes. So many of
thorntlicy’d bent every bit of thicket within leagues
Of them in less than no time. Besides, you forget
those dogs, scores they have, ay, hundreds; some
of them keen-scented as beagles. Car/ai/ they’d
smell the stinking witch half a mile off, and so dis-
cOxer her whereabouts to their masters.”

True returns Cygn-iano seeing the plan he has
Er?osed would not . “in that way they would
Xi‘Ahed'ifnghdoudllfin‘t "i to I; d ' in

n ey nr.nrposesuw1g,spea'
gran}; a sentiment of .humanity, “ it would be dre
u . '

“Dreadful? What do on mean?” asks Cyp‘rlano
looking puzzled. “For hem not to find her just
what we wan ." '

“ Ah, cousin! how would it be for herla Tied to a
tree, with no ho , no chance of getting loosed from
it? She'd die 0 hunger and thirst—miserably r-
ish. Wicked as Shcbotha is, we’d be worse t an
a she if we left_her to such a fate—t0 say nothing of
our bri ing 1t upon her, ay, and for doing so we‘d
deserve be same ourselves, or something as bad."

“Well, Senor Ludwig,” rejoins the gaucho with
an air of submission, rather than conviction, “you
may be right in what you say, and I’m not the man
to deny it. But there need be no difference of
opinion on that point. Leaving Shebotha tied to a
tree wouldn’t do on any account for the reason I’ve
stated. It might, most likely would, and as you say
it ought, end in ourselves getting tied to trees, or
stakes, with a bundle of fagots between our is s set
to the tune of a slow fire. But,“hc adds. tera
second or two spent in conversin , “there’s only
one other way I can think of to dea with the witch,
if we’re not to take her with us.”

“What‘s the other?” asks Cypriano, seeing that
the gaucho hesitates to declare it.

“ hy, knock her on the head, or draw the blade
of a cuclrillw across her throat and so stop her
grunting at once and forever. The infernal h de-
serves no better fate, and hangin ’5 too g for
her. But they’d find her dead be all the same,
tho‘ not with a ton ue in it to tell w o stopped her
wind, or what’s o more consequence now, which
way we went off. Besides I dare say the Senor Lud-
wig wouldn‘t agree to our getting disembarrassed of
her in that fashion."

“ Ohl no, no!" ejaculate the humane youths,
horrified at the thought of such cruelty. “Any-
thing but that. Gaspar."

“ Well, there isn’t anything besides what I pro-
posed doing; that is, take her alon . I’m willing to
accommodate her on the croup o my rccado, and
will show her all the gallantry she deserves. If

ou’re jealous, Senor Ludwig, you ma have her be-
hind you; and as your horse is the i’ghtest laden,
that might be best. When we‘re crossing back over
that ri cho where you left your saddle-bags, if
you're tired ridin double you can drop her down
among the lightning eels and let them play their
batteries upon her old bones till they crack every
joint of them."

Were it not for the gravity of the situation, Gas-
par‘s young companions would be greain amused
at his aint rodomontade. But both too anxious
about e future, and in no humor for enioying a
jest, Ludwig only answers with a faint soil 9, while
C riano, alone thinkin of Francesca, has some
w at im atientl listene to it. Having hold of the
bridle-re n whic the gaucho has handed to him, on
the latter ceasing to speak, he says in urgent tone:

“ Bring her along then amigo ,' and be guick about
it! As you said yourse , we should get own to the
plain as soon as possible."

The admonition is not needed. For Gaspar does
not waste time over his jokes, not allow them to in-
terfere with his action. And while delivering the
last sally he has been looking to his horse-gear to
see that his saddle croup is in proper condition for
her who is to be his double.

Satisfied it will do, he strides off to where files
botha is tied, and in a few seconds returns, bringing
the sorceress in his arms as though it were a bundl
0 re s.

Haigstin her up to his horse‘s withers, and with a
threat to Iin her to stay there, he s rings into the
saddle hehin her. It would not be t on relative po-
sitions, riding double, were they starting out on 8.
ion journey. But it will do for the half-mile or so
totie bottom of the hill. And for that short dis
tance it seems idle eitherto bind her to his own body
or the saddle. .

So thinks Gaspar- but in this the gaucho, With 8]
his prudent sagacity, is for once incautious to a
fan] . As they are groping their way down the
deep slope, zigza ging amon the tree-trunks that
stand thickly on 0th sides 0 the path a troop, of
ringtailed monkeys aslee on their tops, iiavmgt eir
slumbers disturbed byt e clink, clink of the shod
horses a admit; stones, set u a lugubrious howling.
All the rec horses are aflr ghtcd by the unearthl
noise; but Gaspar’s more than any. So much, tha
rearing erect u on its hind legs, with the ground so
uneven the animal loses balance, and tumbles over
on its r dcr.

As the gauche gathers himself stunned and dazed
by the fa _, ’tis to learn that for-that night his riding
double. With Shebotha sharing the sa dle. is at an
end. For the sorcei-css is no longer to be seen.

 

CHAPTER XLV.
AN INFIVRIATED FEMALE.

THERE is no mystery about Shebotha’s disap enr-
ance, nor aught out of the way, save in the rail:-
iiess With which the aged croue contrived to effect
her escape. Soon as touching ground and feeling
herScli‘ freefrom the arms hitherto holding her on
horseback, she had darted into the underwood and
oil. Not even rising erect to her feet, but on all
fours; for although the hillside is so thickly over-
grown With thorny scrub that a pointer W0uld with
( ifiiculty quarter. it, the supple old savage worms
her way through it without making any more noise
than would a badger just got out of the barrel and
away from the dogs that have been baiting it. In
her retreat she does not proceed for any great dis:
tanoe m a direct line, nor long continue crawi
through the. tangle of bushes. She is ac uain
with every inch of that wooded 310 e. an all the
paths traversng it even to the tinies trace of bird
or quadruped; an soon coming into one of these
she at length stands upright. But not to stay there

 

, x . .
' i , i
i

.‘i ., ,

 

an time; only lon enough to give a glance to the
rig t and leftin 0 er that she may assure herself of
w ich of the two she ought to take. Assured in
instant she is off again in crouched attitude
with the agilit of youth itself. Up the hill she goes,
backtoward t e Cemetery, and one who saw her as-
cending before, seeing her now would with diificuliy
believe it to_be the same person, Then, however,
she was takinglit leisurely with no particular call
for haste, nor 1 e taxing of her strengih' now there
is a motive for her making speed with every ex:
ei-tion in her ower. Indeed, more i an one, for she
is urged by we of the strongest passions that can
agitate the human breut—cupidjty and vengeance.“
While depnvmg her of her ghastly necklace Gaspar
had taken the occasion to possess himse of the
more elegant and valuable ornaments late upon the
person 0 Nacena. not with any thought to appro—
priate them to himself but the intention of restor-
ing them to their rightful owner when the latter
should reapplear to claim them. Coming back and
bringing Wit her the captive, Nacena would well de-
serve restitution of her trinkets.

Thwarted in her infernal schemes, stung to
by their failure Shebotha
but for all her hard breathing without stopping to
take breath. Nor rests she on reaching the summit,
but glides on across the cemetery, finding her way '
throu h the serial tomb-s as one who knows every
scaffo d around, and whose bones molder ugo i .

It is not from fear of being followed up t ere t at
she hastens her steps. She knows that they from
whom she has esca ed will not return thither. For
althou h hindered rom hearing their conversation
With lacena, and becoming acquainted with their
plans, if not fully com rehending she at least sur-
mises them._ For, hav ng recognized the gauche and
his companions—all three of them—what urpose
could they have there other than to release the pale.
face girl she has in her charge? And from the (act
of their having themselves released Nacena, let her
go without further detention than would be required
to come to an understanding, she concludes that
this has been come to, and the Indian girl consented
to aid them in their attem t at rescue. But it will
not be successful if she, hebotha, can prevent it:
and desperawa bent on doing it, she rushes on
through the scaflolds, and down the road to the toll:
gin? as if some danger threatened her from be:

11 .
Arriving by the door of her own but she utters an
exclamation of surprise at not there seeing her
slave. Still another, after having called out his
name, and received no answer. Her astonishment
is complete, and her rage at full hlght, when having
stepped up to the threshold of the toldo she sees ..
there is no one inside. The bees-wax dip, burnt low

and flickering in the socket. faintly 1i his up the
hideous objects of her craft and cal ; but no
form of human being!

It is only a mechanical act her cute within the

but, and proceeding on to its inner spar merit. For
she is good as sure it, too, will be found empty, as
she finds it.

Almost instantly returning to the door she stands

azin out into the darkness. Were there a light in.
rout er e ~es would be seen toglare in theirsunken
sockets wit

the brightness of fireballs, while in her
breast is burning e fury of a concentrated ven-
eance. Once ain she callsout the name f hei-
ve, but as be ore getting no Answer; new
that he has either betrayed her, or been him»
self betrayed, she glides silently out of her toldo
and 01! toward that in which sleeps A re.

Soon she reaches Its door, which e finds wide ,.
open. For it is within the tropics, and the in ht is
a warm one. Craning her head inside and ning
fora second or two, she can tell by his breathing
that the cacique is asleep. A slumber abmpfly
broken by her calling out:

“Son of Namgunna,‘ awakel” ,

“Shebothai” e exclaims recognizi her shrill

. “ What is iti“.he ad , raising h head over
the edge of his hamaca. ' _

“Arise, Aguara; and make all hostel Knowthat
there are enemies near, and treason in flour tuba.
You’ve been betrayed, and so has She l"

“Betra ed! Howi’ he asks in wonderment but
without saving his hammock. “Who are t ese
enemies Ken speak of? Who the traitorsi’f

“You‘ learn that in time, chief. It may
enough for you now to know that your pale-face
ca tive has esca "

‘ Esca edl"he cries out bounding down upon 121;: ~ 3

floor, an forward to the entrance.
vile-face
lam Shebotha?“

“ Come to my toldo and see for yourself."

“No: that‘s not needed._if you say she’s gone.
Tell me how where and whither. Be nick,"

In hurried phrase she recounts
which have to her and Nncena on the
Cemetery Hill, addingher conjectures as to what
may have transpired since and may still lie-in the
act of occurrence. Among these last are her cuss
picions—well fonnded as we know—:that Knolin’s
sister has aided the pale-face to escape, and that her
own slave, who should have hindered, has not only
conuircd at it, but taken himself away-as well. In

1

short, the cage is empty. and the bird with its keeper - v I.

both flown i“

What direction have the fugitives taken is a ues—
tion to which the sorwress can give answer wit 0 t _
the need of any doubtful surmise or conjecture. ’: he
knows it as well as if she herself had appointed

the place of rendezvous given b Gas arto the In- ‘ I

dian girl. For while riding doub e wit the gauche,
she had heard him speak of it to his companions:
heard despite the poncho spread over her ears the
word ail/a, with others saying they would wait be»
side that tree. ,

goes panting up the hi1[

,i I.

 

com‘ , 
escaplgf, you say? Are you speakingtruth, , ‘ r

e incidents. ,

,

 

 

&

'30

: twenty or thirty paces.

   

_ ~Gaspar, the Gaucho.

 

 

Aguara, too, well knows the noted spot, as N aoena
herself, havi oft played and reposed beneath its
shade, or clim ed up the and trunk and disported

himself among its branc as when more of a boy
than he is now.

Now, he reflects not on these past times so full of
innocence and happiness. Instead, wild with rage,
and wretched as he is angr , he stays not to reflect
at all, but hastily and on y half-dressing himself,
inches forth out of his toldo calling loudly for his

arse.

Meanwhile the sorceress has aroused others of the
tribe, several of whom. in obedience to their chief’s
command, start off to the corrals to procure the
horses necessary for a pursuit of the fugitives.

Aguara’s is on the ground first, and without wait-
lng for com anion or attendant of any kind, he
vaults u n t eanimal‘s back, and goes off at a gal—
lop, hea ing his horse along the path which after
turning the hill at about a mile’s distance passes the
delta tree.

 

CHAPTER XLVl.
ran cnmivn anoarruann.

IMPOSSIBLE to describe the feelings of Gaspar, the
gauche, as recovering his feet, after the tumble out
of his recado, he finds that Shebotha has got away
from him. It is some consolation to know that
neither himself nor his horse has received serious

injury. ,

As the be , however, has surely succeeded in get—
ting off, an it would be idle to attemlpt pursuing
through the thick scrub, his anathemas urled after
her are all in vain, and at thought of this he soon
ceases to pronounce them. For the reflection quick
follows that he and his companions have now some-

, thing else to think about, their own safety doubly
endangered by Shebotha’s escape.

“Mi demaniosl" is his last exclaim of the kind,

. after getting his horse uprivht again and himself
back into the saddle. “ Who’d have believed the 01d
beldame had so much suppleness in her joints? But,
it’s no joking matter. Only to think of it! Every-
thing looking so bright, and now Satan’s luck once
more back upon us, bad if not worse than everl
’Well, we mustn’t dilly—dally here. If there‘s still a
chance left us, we’ll have to look for it down below
by that silk-cotton tree." '

Saying'which he again gives the rein to his horse
and continues the descent of the hill, the others bee.
and tail close after.

' 0n reaching the silk—cotton tree however, Gaspar
changes his mind about that spot being the best for
their temporary abiding-place. Since it was ar-
ranged as a rendezvous with Nacena the circum~
stances have sadly altered, and on reflection, the
3 110110 deems it better, as do the others, to keep on
7 0113' the road toward the tolder'la, at least for some
little distance.

,So concluding, they make scarcely a moment’s
haltb the delta, but gassing under its umbrageous
brauc es, head their orses along the trail leading
to the town. -

At this moment. were it dayli hit, or even a clear
moonlight, one placed upon t e brow of the hill
110ntiugeouth-g:astward,and lookinor down upon the
level plain by its base would beho d two separate
parties roaring along it, but in opposite directions,
to that it, they continue to advance they must meet.

' One party is rgounted, the other afoot; the former
helm Gaspar nd his boy companions, while the lat-
,teria also composed of three individuals, Nacena,
Francesca, and Shebotha’s slave. The two girls are

' side by side and ahead of the man. who less free of
1003,3188! en behind them to a distance of some

(Natasha, who knows the way, "dos the escaping
mpflye and has hold of her by 9 hand. They are
nownot more than half a mile from the mounted
pony coming the opposite way, and in a few min-
utes should meet. it, if nothing revent. Already
within hailing distance, they might hear one an-
other’e voices: but neither being aware of this mu—

,rtual§faoximity, all advance in silence. the trio on
_ have ck Eroceedin at a slow pace, for caution's
sake, lost t a tread 0 their animals betray them.

’ But it their own he not heard afar, there are other

’ horses making a. noise to disturb the stillness of the
n ht. Just as the Indian girl has whispered to her

L ' £31. face prolégée some words of cheer saying that

triends’ are now no great ways off, s e is startled

by the hoofLstrokes of a horse that her practiced

- leer tells her to be ridden, while the rapid repetition
of $116.30qu denotes the animal going at a gallop.

Suddenly she stops and listens. Clearer rings the

"' tramp-tram ," as nearer the horseman aproaches.

Gomlngu be ind, from the direction ot the town,

‘ who can! be but one in pursuit of them? And if a

par-snot. what other than Agnara?

; in asking herself these questions, Kaolin’s sister
launder the belief that the sorceress is herself still
a oner in the keeping of that stout and redoubt-
a 19 gene 0. Hence her sun-grist; at their bein
pursued, with the uncertainty 1; at they are so, an

be further doubt of the pursuer being Agustin]
He. it is, notwithstan ing; and as yet nrsuing
alone. For although there can,be heard t e hoof-
fitrokes of other horses, those of his following, they
are faint and far off. He himself hears them;

[knows it is a arty of hlayoung braves hurrying on

’ after, but wil not wait for them to get up.“ For he

, hopesto overtake the in itlves ere they can reach

, the place of rendezvous S ebotha has spoken of.

In this hope, alas! he is not disappomted. Dash—
ing on through the darkness. along a road with
every foot of which both he and his horse are to.-

g miller, he first comes up with the halt-witted crew

gihg behind, soon as beside him putting the
question:
“ Where is the pale-face, your prisoner?"

\

i

it is brought up standi

 

The man frightened on seeing it is the cacique,
and trembling all over, hesitates to make reply.
But Aguara does not wait for it. He hears voices
ahead, soft and sweet, then b raised in tones of
alarm, and knows she must 0 there. Giving his
horse’s head a wrench, so as to shave close past the
delinquent jailer, he raises his mammal, and dealing
a dowuward blow strikes the latter to the earth,
then hastens on after the others.

N acena now knows for certain that they are pur-
sued, as also who is the pursuer. She has heard the
question asked by Aguara, reco nizing his voice,
heard also the dull thud of his clu ) as it descended
on the skull of the unfortunate man, and now again
hears the trampling of horses renewed and drawin r
nearer. She has still hold of Francesca’s hand, an
for a moment debates within herself what is best to
be done, and whether she should not release it, and
turning, show front to the pnrsuer.

Too ate for that, or aught else likely to be of
service to herself or her Motégée. Before any re-
solve reaches her the cacique is by their side; and
flinging himself from his horse grasps both by] their
wrists, and wrenches asunder their joined ands.
Then turning upon the Indian girl with a cry of
rageva curse in the 'l‘ovas tongue—he strikes her
with his shut fist, inflicting a blow which sends her
reeling to the earth. Before she can regain her feet
he is once more upon his horse, and heading back
for the tolderia, his recovered captive in his arms!

CHAPTER XLVII.
VA CON mos.

IN a gallop Aguara goes, fast as his animal can be
urged by heel and voice. For while so roughly
separating the two girls. they had shouted in alarm.
and his ear had caught other cries raised at a (lis-
tance and as if responsive. Now he hears them
again; men’s voices and mingling with them the
trampling of horses; clearly several horses coming
on inagallop. She, held in his arms, hears them,
too, but listens not in silence or unresisting. In-
stead, she struggles and shrieks, calling help—help!
with the names “ Ludwig—Cy riano, Gaspar!"

She is heard by all three; .or it is they who re-
sponded to the cries of herself and Naccna,know-
ing who gave utterance to them. Near they are
now, and riding as in a race, they, too, ressing
their horses to utmost speed. But the dar ness is
against them, as their ignorance of the round,
w th which the man pursued is familiar. y this
at every step they are obstructed; and but for the
screams of rancesca still continued, might as well
abandon the chase for any chance they have of
overtaking him.

And overtake him the never would nor could
were fortune not in their avor. An accident it may
appear: at the same time seeming a divine retri-
bution for wrong, a very Nemesis in the path of the
wicked Aguara. On returning past the spot where
he had struck down Shebotha‘s slave, he sees the
unfortunate man stretched along the ound, and
to all up rance still insensible. Naug t cares be
for that, ut his horse does; and at sight of the pros-
trate man, the animal, with a snort of aflm ht,
sliies to one side, and strikes of! in». new direct on.
Goin at such‘ a swift pace, and in such a dim light,
in a ‘ ew bounds it enters among some bushes, where
Before its rider can ex-
tricate it, a strong ban has hold of it by the head,
with a thumb inserted into its nostrils, while the
fingers of another are clutchi at his own throat.
ghe handlonhiglefihorse’stlzhmuzz e istthaatt of Gaspar,

he gauc 0; o ngers at gro e oge a gripe on
the rider‘s neck bel those of (lypriano.

It is a crisis in the ife of the young Tovas chief,
threatening either death orcaptivity. But subtle as
all Indians are. and base as any common fellow of his
tribe, instead of showing a. bold front, he eludes
both by letting go the ca tive girl, himself slipping
{)0 tine ground and, snake- ike, gliding off among the

us es.

On the other side of his horse, which he has also
abandon ed, Francesca. falls into the arms of her bro-
ther, who embraces her with wild delight; though
not wilder, nor half so thrilling, as that which en-
raptures the heart of Cypriano, to whose arms she
is on the instant after transferred.

.“ Our lucky star’s gone up," Gaspar says with a
Siglniflca'nt nod to Aguara‘s horse. which he has still
ho dot‘. “There‘s new four of us, and, as I take
it, this brisk little muster/o is fairly our property,
there‘ll be no need for any of us riding doub e—~to
say nothing of one having a witch behind his back.
Well, without such incumbrance, so much the better
for the saving of time; which at this moment
presses, with not the hundredth part of a second to
spare. So, Mics m‘os. and you, Iii/n, mm anemia,
let us mount, and off!”

A word about the route, and all four start to-
gether, not to go back along the trail toward the
mil/a tree; but strikin straight out for the open
plain, in a direction which Gaspar conjectures to be
the right one.

Ludwig and his sister are more desirous to turn
aside, and learn how it is with Nacena. But again
the aucho, not greatly given to sentiment, objects.
Luc ll ,asif to relieve them from all anxiety, just
then t ey hear a voice, which all recognize as that
oi’ the Tovas belle, calling out in tolerably pure Cas-
tilian their own tongue:

“ a can Dias I”

Standing up in his stirrups, with a shout and coun-
ter-salute the gauche returns the valediction; then
a urring iorward and lacing himself at the head of

e retreating parltly, t ey ride on, with no thought
If)! lggaln ha! ng ti their horses refuse‘to keep their

so .

 

CHAPTER XLVIII.
FRIENDS on FOES. ‘ /

THAT solitary eslazzcia which for two years had
been the happy home of Ludwi Halberger and his
family, but late the abode o deepest sorrow, is
once more revisited by a gleam of joy. For the res-
cuing party has returned to it, bringing Francesca
back, safe and still unharmed.

In the tumult of gratified emotions at recovering
her lost child, or rather children, for she had begun
to think them all forever gone from her-the widow
almost forgets that she is widowed.

Only for a brief moment, however; the other

reat bereavement has been too recent to remain

ong out of her thoughts, and soon returns to them
in full and afflicting bitterness.

But she has no time to dwell upon it now. The
tale of actual experiences which the rescuers have
brought back, with Gaspar’s surmises added, has
given her a. full and clear comprehension of every-
thing, not only explaining the tra ‘c event already
past, but foreshadowing other an further dangers
yet to come, and which may at an moment descend
upon her and the dear ones still eft to her, dis el-
ling any doubt as to the hand which has dealt er
such a terrible blow; neither of the man who
actually committed the murder, nor him who insti-
gated it. For Francesca’s recognition of Valdez has
confirmed all the gaucho‘s conjectures.

And the Dictator of Paraguay is not the man to
leave unfinished either his cruel deeds 01' designs.
Surely will he further prosecute them, either by
himself hastening to the ceramic, or sending thither
his myrmidons. Yes; at any hour, any minute,
these may a pear approaching it from the east
while in like 5 iort time the pursuing Tovas, heade
by their enraged cacique, may SlOW themselves
coming from the west.

No wonder that the moments of mutual congratu-
lation between the sellers. and those just returned to
her are brief and but little jo 'ful. The fugitives
have reached home, but not to rid it a refuge. For
them it is no more a lace of safety; instead the
most perilous in which t ey could now, or ever after
sojourn. But where are they to go, whither further
flee? In all the chaco there 5 not a spot that
can shelter them from the pursuers they are ex-
pecting.

It is now near noon on the fourth day since they
left the Sacred Town of the Tovas, and in the inter-
val they have been riding hard and fast, day and
night, scarce allowing themselves either sleep or
rest. But fast as they have traveled they know
that Aguara with his braves will not be far behind.
And al bough less than an hour has elapsed since
their arrival at the estancia, Gaspar has already
made Ereparations for their de ure from it. As-
sisted y be faithful Guano In inns, who, of course,
are to accom any them in their flight, he has
caught u an caparisoned fresh horses, with the
mules be onging to the establishment. Still, the
question remains unanswered, whither are they to

0? Throughout all the vicissitudes of his eventful
its never had the gaucho one so erplexing him or
fraught with such fears. In the ope of finding an
answer and the better to reflect upon it, be has
drawn a little apart from the house, with the hurry
and bustle going on around it. A. slight eminence
not far off gives a commanding View of the campa,
and taking stand upon its top he first casts a sweep-
ing glance around the horizon then fixes it only in
one direction~the southwar toward the old to]-
deria. For although expecting enemies both from
east and west, he nows that coming] from either
side they will most like] approach y the Pilot:-
mayo’s bank. the former y be trail leadin up the
river the latter by the same going down. t is not
the first time for him standing on that elevated
spot. Every ten minutes since their return to the
estancia, he has been upon it, gazing out in the
same way, and for the selfsame purpose. Still as
.yet he observes nothing to add to his apprehensions,
already keen enough. No living hing. much less
human being, stirs over the wide expanse of green,
grassy plain. For it is near the meridian hour;
and t e tropical sun pouring its fervul rays verti-
cally down, has forced both the birds and quadru-
eds inside the sheltering shadow of their caverts.
Bnl two of the former are seen, a brace of m'ubua,
or ‘ king vultures," soarin in circles aloft, beauti-
ful birds but less emblema ic of life than death. A
bad omen he might deem their resence, and worse
if he but saw what they see. or from their more
elevated poeition they command a view of the plain
to a much greater distance, and see mounted men
n on it, not a single party but three distinct g‘lgoups
0? them, leagues distant from each other, t ough
all drawing toward the estnncia. They are an
preaching it by separate routes, and from difierent
iarters of the compass, one party coming up the
(Iiilcomayo’s bank, and making strai ht for the old
toldem‘a. A second moving toward be same place
on the down-river trail; w lie the third, away from
the river and out upon the open plain. is heading
more direct for the aslancia itself. The first cohort,
which is the smallest, is composed of some forty or
fifty horsemen riding “by twee,” theirregular
formation on the march, but more the uniformity
in their dress. arms and accouterments telling them
to be soldiers. For such the are; the C’umtelems
of Paraguay, with Ruflno aldez riding at their
head, not their commandi officer, but m'the exer-
else of his more proper an especial calliniof va-
quelmo or guide. Ghostly and pallid, with is arm
supported in a sling, he is on his way back to Hal-
berger’s estancia to com lete the rufflan‘s task as-
signed to him by the Dictator of Para nay, and
make more desolate the house he has aired y enough
ruined. But for his mischance In the biacache'ra t e
rescuers would have found it empty on their return;

 

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Gaspar, the Gaucho. _

    

31

 

and instead of a lost daughter it would have been
the mother that was missing.

The second band of horsemen cpmlng from the
opposite quarter, and down the river, is no other
than the pursuing party of Tovas with A2118“! at
their head. They are mostly young men, Azuara S
particular friends and partisans, neal'lf’ 3 hundred
in number, all armed With volas and ong spears,
Hastin summoned to ether they had started in pur-
suit soon as they cou d catch up their horses; but
with all their speed the rescumg party had so far
kept ahead as to have arrived at the estanma some
hours before them. But they are pressmg on for it
now fastas their horses can .carry them urged for-
ward by their caci ue, who. in his rage is not onlv
determined to reta e the esoaped captive, but kill
cousin, brother, all who aided in her escape.

The third partly, also a )proacliiiig from the west,
but by a route eading irect to the estanviu, with
the river far southward on their right, is like the
second composed entirely of Tovas Indians. But
instead of being the youths of the tribe, they are
for the most part men of mature age, though a
young man is at their head, noting as their com-
mander. There is a girl riding by his side, a beau—
tiful girl, at a glance recognizable as Nacena, he
himself being her brother Kaolin. -

They and their part are also pursuing, though
not to retake the pale- ace captive; instead to pro-
tect her, the object of their pursuit being Aguara
himself. For soon as the latter had started off on
his reckless chase, braving public opinion, and de-
fying the opposition of the elders, a. revolution had
arisen in the tribe, While a council meeting hastily
called in the malocca had with almost unanimous
vote de osed him from the chieftainsliip, and
chosen aolin caci ue in his stead! Needless to
say that to all this acena was a consenting party.
And something more, since she gave the cue to her
brother who was chief instigator in the _revolt.
That blow which laid her‘along the earth, With the
cause for which it was given, had severed the last
link of love that bound her to Aguara, and for him
her heart is now full of hate, and burning with ven-
geance. While pressing on in pursuit of his escaped
captive, little dreams the deposed caci us of the
Tovas either that he has been depose from his
ghieftainship, or that such a Nemesis is pursuing

1m.

For all his pursuers are not behind him: instead
in front, or at all events nearer to the estancia than
he. For Kaolin‘s followers, availing themselves of
a route known to one of their number—a shorter
cut across the (pain as—have passed the part led
by Aguara, an wil be first to arrive at the o Jee-
ti ve point aimed at by both.

And they are first sighted by Gaspar the gauche,
though he was not looking out in their direction.
Following them with his eyes, he sees what causes
him to exclaim:

“Santos Dias! We are lost. Too late, too late;
’tis all over with us nowl” .

lffis cry sent up in accents of deepest despair
brings Ludwig and Cy riano to his Side; and the
three stand watching t e dark cohort that comes
on. None of them speaks or thinks of retreat.
That would be idle, and any attempt at esca e
must surely result in failure, while to resist won (1
but hasten the disaster impending over them.
convinced of $1115. they no longer contemplate
either flight or registance, but stand in sullen si-
lence to awmt the approach of the pursuers, for
such they suppose them to be, deemin them aven-

is also, as well they may, recalling t eir last en-
counter With the young Tovas cacique.

Never did mistaken men more rejoice than do
the , when on the band of Indian braves galloping
up the ground, the behold at the bead, and en-
dently in command 0 it not the chief Aguara, but
the sub-chief Kaolin, and beside him his sister Na.-
cenal She who aided them in the escape of the
captive, and can last word bade them “ God speed,"
would not be with pursuch that were hostile. _

Nor is she, as they soon learn; instead, along With
grinds who come but to give comfort and protec-

on. -

 

CHAPTER XLIX.
SPEEDY RETRIBUTION.

SHORT time stays Kaolin and his party by the a-
tando. For the newly elected chief is a man of ready
resolves and quiet action; and soon as his story ll
told. with that of the others heard in return, he again
mounts and makes ready for the march, this time to
be directed toward the old tolderia. He knows that
his rival cacique must come that way. as also the
other enemy of whom Gasparhasgiven him ini‘orma~
tlon and who may be ex cted assoon, if not sooner,
than Aguara himself. he aucho goes along with
him, as would Cypriano an Ludwig, but that Gns-
par forbids it, urging them to remain at the aria/tum,
as com any and if need be protection, for the Senora
and “ ina," Thus influenced they both stay.

Straight 03 over the' pampas rides, Kaolin at the
head of his hundred stalwart warriors, his sister
still 19 his side. _ '

B gimme, Kaolin himself has a special dislike for
Ru no Valdez; while as to the Others, despite the
restored treaty forced upon them by Aguara. their
friendship has not been restored With it, and they
ur e their horses forward, burning for an encounter
wiftrh the cuartdems of Paralzle- I

Though the gaucho rides .at the head of the quick-
marching arty and alongside their leader, it 15 not
to uide t ism—they know the gromld 8-8 Well and
bet r than he; for oft and many a tune have they
quartered that same oamvo, in pursuing yam, gua.
outi, and ostrich. , ,

' Kaolin directs his march in a straight course for
the old toldaria, though not now deSigning to go so

 

i

far. His ob'ective point for the present is ahigh
bluff which ems in the valley of the Pilcomayo,
and from which a view may be obtained of the river
for long lea es upward and downward as of the
deserted vil age, at no great distance off upon its
bank. Through a ravine, that cuts this bluff trans-
versely, the latter can alone be reached from the
elevated plain over which they are advancing.

Arrived at the upper end of the gorge, they do not
go down it. Instead, commanding his warriors to
make halt, Kaolin himself dismounts, and signing to
the gauche to kee) him company, the two step
crouchineg forwar and upward to the outer edge
of the cliff.

Soon as reaching it, they get sight of what they
had more than half expected to see: two bands of
men mounted and u on the march, one with the
horses’ heads directe downstream, the other up it.
The first, as can be seen at a glance, is the ursuing
party of Tovas ouths: while the sun shining upon
gilt buttons, wit the littering of lance blades and

arrels of guns, tells t e other to be a troop of sol-
diers, beyond doubt the looked-forcuarteleros / Both
are about a like distance from the abandoned town,
heading straight for it; and while Kaolin and the
gaucho continue watching them, they ride in among
the loll/0r, from opposite sides, meeting face to face
on the opcn space by the malocva.

At sight of one another, both parties come to a
sudden halt, and for a second or two seem engaged
in a mutual and suspicious reconnoissance. But the
distrust is of short continuance, for there is a rogue
at the head of each, and these, as if instinctively
recognizing one another, are seen to advance and
shake hands, while their followers mutually mingle
and fraternize.

Amicable relations being thus established between
them, the men on both sides are observed to dis-
mount, as if they intended to make stay in the fol~
delta. Amovementwhich puzzles Kaolin and the
gauche, who were about going back to the gorge,
with the design of taking ste sto defend it. Instead,
they remain upon the ch ‘5 crest to watch the
enem below.

An they continue watching them, till the sun
goes down, and the purple of twilight spreads itself
over the plain bordering the Pllcomayo, and shroud-
in the deserted village .in its murky embrace. But
be ore night’s darkness is altogether down they see
a mounted troop filing by twos out from among
the toldos, with lances carried aloft, and pennons
floating over their heads, surely the cuwrtelerns.
There is just light enough left to show the men in
the lead dressed differently from those following.
One of these, resplendent in a feather-embroidered
manta, Kaolin recognizes as his rival Aguara, while
the gauche identifies the other as his oldest, deadli-
est and most dangerous enemy, Rufino Valdez.

They remain not a moment longer on the clifi;
for eager as the gauche may be to rid himself of
that enemy, he is not more so than the Indian to
send to his long account the man who insulted
his sister. Now more than ever determined upon
avenging her wrongs, he rushes back to his braves
and hurriedly puts them in ambush near the end of
the gorge, at a point where the defile is narrowest,
himself taking stand on a ledge which commands
the pass, in such a. manner that with his long spear
he can reach quite across it from side to side.

At length has the op rtunit arrived for the
angry brother to take e ret bution he has re-
solved u on, Nacena herself bein a witness to it.
For she near by, standin on a 'gher bench be-
hind in posed attitude wit her features hard set
and lips com reused as one about to he s ectator to
a sad and pa nful scene. But ifshe fee s sadness
it is not for the death now threatening Aguara.
That blow had changed her fond love to bitterest
resentment, and instead of doin aught or saying
word to sta her brother’s han , she but b her
presence an silence incites him to the deed 0 you

geance. I
It is soon and quickly done. Scarce has the am-
buscade been set when the trampling of horses
heard down the deflle tells of a cavalcade coming
up, and presently the foremost files appear rounding
an angle of rock. Dim as is the light the horseman
lead can be told to be the young Tovas cacique,
while e one immediately in his rear is recognizable
asRuflno Valdez. At sight of the latter, Gas ar,
who is close to Kaolin, feeling all his old hatre re-
Vived, and freshly recalling the murder of his be—
loved master, thh difficulty restrains himself from
springing down, and commencing the conflict.

He is prevented by a si from Kaolin; who on
the instant after leanin orward hinges out with
his spear. A Wild cry te is that it has pierced the
body of Aguara, then drawn instantly back and
givon a second thrust it passes through that of the
va ueano, both dropping from their horses dead
as if by a bullet through the brain!

The soldiers coming on behind are brought to a
sudden stop,scarce comprehending \vhv till they hear
the Wild Toyas War-cry raised above t eir heads, at
the some time being saluted with a shower of the
terrible bolas pardidas rained down from the rocks,
crushing in every skull with which they come in
contact.

The scared cuai‘teleros stay for no more, but with a
cry of treason turn. their horses‘ heads, and hur
back down the ravine. Nor stop they at the to -
deria; but still under the belief of buying been be-
trayed continue their retreat down the river, and on
toward Para ua ', leavmg over a. dozen of them dead
in that dark ed 9.

As for the followers of Aguara they make no
show of fight; now that their leader is no more
there is no cause of quarrel between them and the
warriors of the tribe, and not a. hand is raised to

avenge their late cacique. For on learning the full

v

 

character of his designs, and his complicity with the
cruel vafiueano, all acknowledge that th men have
but met be death they deserved.

CHAPTER L.
GONCLUSION.

AFTER a day’s rest at their old_tolderia. the two
parties of Tovas, now united in amity, set out on re-
turn to their Sacred Town. And along with thém

oes the Senora Halber er, with all the members of
ier family, including t e Guano Indian domestics,
and needless to say not leaving Gaspar the gaucho
behind. And alike idle to declare that they go not
as captives, but guests. to be honored and better
cared for than ever before. Better protected, too,
for as ever do they need rotection, now more than
ever likely to be under t c ban of the Paraguayan
despot. That solitary estancia would no longer
be a safe place of reSidence for them, and they well
know it.

Perfect safety they find at the Sacred Town, and
hospitality, too, great as when Naraguana himself
dispensed it. For is not Kaohn now cacique, he who
saved them from death and destruction?

Kindly he extends his protection and generously
gives his hospitality. But they do not for long need
the former, nor are they called 11 on to (times the
latter by a too protracted stay. S ortly after their
arrival at the Sacred Town they et news which,
thou h of death, gives them joy, as it only could and
shou d. It is the death of that man, who has been
the cause of all their miseries. J osé Francia, feared
far and wide throughout Paraguay, and even be-
yond its borders, has at length paid the debt due by
all men whether bad or 00d; for he isdead. Yet
strange to say in the land eso long ruled with hard,
ruthless hand, still dreaded almost as much as when
living! his cowed and trembling subjects speaking
of him with tremblin lips and hated breath, no
more as “ El Sigrenw, ut El Defunto l"

The Senora alberger believes she may now re-
turn to her native count without fear of further
persecution from him. ut Gaspar thinks other-
wise; deeming it still unsafe and pointing out the
danger of their being called to account for what
they were not guilty of, the slaughter of the ovar-
teIcros in the defile. In fine, he urges her to make
her future home in the Ar entine States, a gen-
anter land to live in, besides ing a land of ii rty,
and above all, the orthodox country of his own class
and kind—the gauchos. '

Perceivin the justness of his arguments she con-
sents to fo ow his advice; and to the Argentine
States they all 0 journeying across man great
rivers and throug hundreds of miles ofw
But they are not permitted to travel. either unpro-
tected or alone, for Kaohn accompanies them with
a band of his best braves; Nacena also forming one
of the escort.

The Tovas cacique sees them over the Salado
river, and within safe distance of the outlying set-
tlcments of San Rosario, there leaving them. But
when he parts company to return to the
Town, his sister returns notwith him. The n as a
brother he be dear to her, she has found one carer,
with whom she prefers to stay. And does stay,
Kaolin himself consenting; since the dearer one in
his own friend and formerplaymatc. The gentle

Ludwig has at length succeeded in winning tho ,

heart of the savage maiden, . still whole. despite
the tearing of a misplaced passion, long sincepmed
away

 

Our tale could be prolon d, and the characters
who have figured in it be to owed further; but not
through scenes of the same exciting character—as
those already detailed. Instead, the record of their
after life, tho b not devoid of stirri incident, is
more signalize by scenes of peace an prosper! .
The reader will be satisfied with a peep at it, o -
tained some ten years later than the date of their
settling down in the Argentine States. Atraveler
at this time passing from San Rosario to the Ger
man colonies recently established on the Salado

river, near the old but abandoned missionary settle- ,
ments of Saute Fé, could not fail to observe a and ‘

estancia—a handsome dwelling-house, with ou ld-
ings, cor-rah for inclosiire of cattle. and all the ap-
purtenances of a first—class ganadori‘a, or grazing
establishment. Should he ask to whom it belongs,
he would have for answer, “The Senora Halber-
gerz" and if curiosity led him to inquire further he
might be told that this ladv, who is “and oiuda, ‘ is
but the nominal head 0 the concern, which is
rather owned conjointly by her son and ne hew.
living along with her, both married, the atter,
Senor Cypriano, to her own daughter and his cousin;
while the former, Senor Ludmg, has for his wife an
Indian woman; with pqssrbly) thou-emark added,
that this Indian woman is as cautiful and accom-
plished as though she were white.

Were the traveler to devmte a little from his
route, and aggoach near enough to the house, he
might see t double, though united family, sur-
rounded by several pretty children, of both sexes.
strolling about in ha py harmony and with that
freedom from care, w 'cli s eaks of wealth, at the
satinedtime telhng that it been honestly ac-
qu re .

Whether or not such a tableau be presented to the
traveler's eyes, one man who should figure in it
would sure be seen moving about the place. For he

’is the inqu demo, the manager of all. As in the
old estam'za, near the northern bank of the Pilco- ‘

mayo, so in the new and under one, on the south
side of the Salado, ev ing is intrusted, as safc~
ly it may be, to Gaspar, the gauche. .

mm.

81118”. ,

’i

 

 

Advonturcs offluil’alo Bill. From Boy-
hood to Manhood. Deeds of Daring and Roman-
tic Incidents in the early life of William F. Cody.
By Col. Prentiss Ingmham.
The Ocean Hunters; or, The Chase of
Leviathan. A Romance of Perilous Adven-
ture. By Captain Mayne Reid.
WA); Ertra Lazy/<1 Numbs’rfiéj‘fi
Adventures of “’ild Bill, the Pistol
Prince.
(known to the world as “ Wild Billfl) giving the
true story of his adventures and dots. By 001.
Prentiss lngraham.
The Prairie Ranch; or, The Young Cattle
Herders. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.
Texas Jack, the Mustang King. Thrill-
ing Adventures in the Life of J. B. Omohundro,
" Texas Jack." By CoL Prentiss Ingraham.

6 Cruise of the Flyaway; or, Yankee Boys
in Ceylon. By C. Dunning Clark.

7 Roving Joe : The History of a Young “ Bor-

' der Ruman.” Brier Scenes from the Life of

Joseph E. Badger, Jr. By A. H. Post.

8 The Flyuway Afloat; or, Yankee Boys
’Round the World. By C. Dunning Clark.

9 Bruin Adams, 0141 Grizzly Adams’
Boy Pard. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

10 The Snow-Trail; or. The Boy Hunters of
Fur-Land. By T. C. Harbuugh.

l 1 Old Grizzly Adams, the Bear Tanner;

v or, The Monarch of the Mountain. By Dr.

' Frank Powell.

12 Woods and Waters; or, The Exploits of
the Littleton Gun Club. By Capt. F. Whittaker.

13 A Rolling Stone : Incidents in the Career
on Sea and Land as Boy'and Man of Colonel
Prentiss lngraham. By Prof. Wm. R. Eystor.

l4 Adria on the Prairie, and Amateur
Hunter: on the Bufi‘ulo Range. By
Oll Coomes. .

15 Kit Canon, King- of the Guides; or
Mountain Paths and Prairie Trails. By A. W.
Aiken. ' y -

16 Bed Bivar Rovers; or, me and Adven-
tures in the Northwest. By C. Dunning Clark.

17 Plaza, and Plain 1, or, Wild Adventures of,
“Buckskin Sam," (Major Sam S. Hall.) By
Colonel Prentiss ingraham. .

18 Rifle and Revolver; or, The Littleton
Gun Club on the Buflalo Range. By Captain
Frederick Whittaker.

19 Wide-Awake George, The Boy Pioneer;

‘ or, Lite in 1. Log Cabin. incidents and Adven-
cum in the Backwoods. By Edward Willctt.

20 The Dashing Dragoon; or, The Story of
General George A. Custer, from Wont Point to
the Big Horn. By_ Cgptain Frederick Whittaker.

21 Deadwood Dick at 3' Boy; or, Why
Wild Nod Harris, the New-England Farm-lad, be-
come the Western Prince of the Road. By Ed;

. ward L. Wheeler. ’

22 The 'Boy Exiles of Siberia; or. The

v Watch-Dog of Russia. By '1‘. C. Harbaugh.

23 Paul De Lacy, The French Beast Charmer;
or, New York Boys in the Jungles. A Story of
Adventure, Peril and Sport‘in Africa. By C.
Dunning Clark. - ‘ .

24 The Sword Prince 1 r The Romantic Life
of Colonel Monstery, (American Champion-ut-
anris.) .By Captain Frederick Whittaker.

25 Round the (‘unlp Fire; or, Snow‘Bound
at." Freczcout Camp." By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

23 Snow-Shoe Tom; or, New York Boys in

' the Wiklernrsfi.
in Maine. By T. C. Horbaugh. ‘

27 Yellow Hair, the Boy Chief of tho
Pawneeu. The Adventurous Career of Eddie
Burgess of Nebraska. By Colonel Prentiss In-
graham.

28 The «lingo of the Great White Stag
and (lamp and Canoe. By C. Dunning
( lurk.

/

Remarkable career of J. B. Hikok,,

A Narrative of Sport and Peril '

 

29 The Fortune-Hunter; or, Roving Joe
as Miner, Cowboy, Trapper and Hunter. By
A. H. Post.

30 “lult Ferguson’s Cruise. ATule of the
Antarctic Son. By C. Dunning Clark.

31 The Boy Crusader; or, How a Page and a.
Fool Saved :1 King. By Capt. Fred. “'hittatkvr.

32 “’hlte Beaver, the Indian Illcdicinc
Chief; or, The Romantic and Adventurous
Life of Dr. D. Frank Powell. By Col. Ingrahom.

33 Captain Ralph, the Young Explorer; or,
The Centipede Amongthe Flocs. By C. Dunning
Clark. 3

31 The Young Brar Hunters. A Story of i
the Hops and Mishaps of a. Party of Boys in l
the Wilds of Northern Michigan. By Morris
Redwing. .

35 The Lost Boy “11:11ch or. In the Shadow
of the North Pole. By T. C. Harbough.

36 Smart Sim, the Lad with a. Level Head.
By Edward Willctl. ' -

37 Old Tar Knuckle and His Boy Chums; or,
The Monsters of the Esquimaux Border. By
Roger Sta rbuck.

38 The Scttlcr’s Son; or, Adventures in the
Wilderness and Clearing. By Edward S. Ellis.

39 Night-Hawk George, and His During
Deeds and Adventures in the Wilda of the South
and West. By Col. Prentiss Ingruham.

40 The Ice Elephant; or, The Castaways of
the Lone Coast. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

41 The Pampas Hunters; or, New York
Boys in Buenos Ayres. By T. C. Harbaugh.

42 The Young Laud-Lubber; or, Prince
Porter’s First Cruisr. By C. Dunning Clark.

43 Bronco Billy, the Saddle Prince. By 001.
Prentiss Ingraham.

44 The Snow Hunters; or, Winter in the
Woods. By Barry De Forest. v

45 Jack, Harry and Tom. The Three
Champion Brothers; or, Adventures of Three
Brave Boys with the Tattooed Pirate. By Capt.
Frederick Whittaker.

46 Th- Condor Killers; or, Wild Adventures
at the Equator. By T. C. Earbaugh.

47 The Boy Coral-Fishers; or, The Sea.-
Cuvern i‘courge. By Roger Starbuok.‘

48 Dick, the 8:0 wuwu ; or, A Yankee Boy‘s
Strange Cruise. By Chat es Morris.

49 Tip Truly", the Floater: or, Fortunes and
Mister-tunes on the Mississippi. By Edward
Willett.

50 The Adventurous life of Nebraska
Charlie, (Charles- E: Burgess.) By Colonel
Prentiss ingraham. ‘

51 The Colorado Boys; or, Lite on an Indigo
Plantation. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.

52 Honest Harry; or, The Country Boy Adrift
luthe City. By Charles Morris. 1

53 The Boy Donn-lives; or, The Young Cali-
fornians in Shanghai. By T. C. Harbaugh.

54 California Joe, The Mysterious Plainsman.
By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

55 Harry Sonlcrs, The Sailor-BOy Magician.
By S. W. Pearce.

56 Wobody’s Boys; or, Lifc Among the Gipsics.
By J. M. Holtmnn.

5'7 Tho Monugerio Hunter; or, Funny Ho-
bart, tho Animul Queen. By Major H. Grenville.

58 lumc Tim, the Mule Buyoi’ the Minis; 01‘,
Life Among tho ltlack Dimnouds. By Charles
Morris.

59 Lud l. lonhoolu, the Young Tiger Fighter.
By Roger Storbuck.

60 The Young Trail Hunters; or, va

. York Boys in Grizzly Land. By T. ( ‘. Harbmxgh.
6E The Young Mustuugeru. By C. D. Clark.

02 The Tiger Hunters; or,Thc 0010me Boys

 

in Tiger-Land. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.

63 The Adventurous Lli‘o/ of Captain
Jack, the Border Boy. ,(John \V. Crawford,
the Poet Scout.) By Col. Prentiss lngraham.

61 The Young Moose-Hunters; or, Trail
and Wimp-fire in the New Brunswick Woods. By
Wm. H. Manning.

65 Black Horse Bill, the Bandit Wrecker; or,
Two Brave Boys to the Rescue. By Roger
Starbuck.

66 Little Dun Rocks; or, The Mountain Kid’s
Mission. By Morris Red wing.

67 ’Longshorc Lljc; or, How 3. Rough Boy
Won His Way. By C. Dunning Clark.

68 Flatboat Fred; or, The Voyage of the " Ex-
periment." By Edward Willett.

69 The Door-flu ntors ; or. Life in the Ottawa
Country. By John J. Marshall.

‘70 Kentucky Ben, the Long Rifle of the Plains;
or, The Boy Trappers of Oregon. By Roger
Starbuck.

71 The Boy Pilot; or, The Island Wreckers.
By Col. Prentiss Ingruhnm.

'72 Young Dick Talbot. By Albert W. Aiken

73 Pat Mulioncy’s Adventures; or, Silver
Tongue, the Dacotah Queen. By C. L. Edwards.

7-1 The Desert Rover; or. Stowaway Dick
Among the Arabs. By Charles Morris.

75 The Border Gunmaker; or, The Hunted
Maiden. By James L. Bowen.

76 The Kit Carson Club; or, Young Hawk-
eyes in the Northwest. By T. C. Earbuugh. -
77 Loft-Handed Pete, the Double~Knife. By

Joe. E. Badger, Jr.

78 The Boy Prospector; or, The Scout of th
Gold Ravine. 'By Roger Starbuck. I

'19 Minonee, the Wood Witch; or, the Squatter‘s
Secret. By Edwin Emerson.

80 The Boy Cruisers; or, Joe and Jap’s Big
Find. By Edward Willett. t

8 1 The Bv‘rder Rovers; or. Lost on the Over-
land Troll. By J. Milton Holman.

82 Alaska, the wolf Quoen; or, The Girty
Brothers’ Double Crime. By Captain Charles
Howard.

83 The Young Nihilist; or, A Yankee Boy
Among the Russians. By Charles Morns‘ .

84 Little Rifle; or,‘ The Young rm Hunters.
By Capt. “ Bruin " Adams.

85 Fighting Fred ; or, The Castaways of

' ' ‘ Gn‘zzly Comp. By T. C. Harbaugh.

86 Dr. Carver, the “ Evil Spirit " of the Plains;
or. The Champion‘S'hot of the World. By Col.
Prentiss Ingrnlmm.

81 nufl' Robnart and His Bear.
“ l-Iruin " Adams.

88 dPnlny, the Cowboy. By Major H. B. Stod-
art .

By Capt.

89 Gaspar. the Gaucho; or, Lost on the
Pampas. By Captain Mayne Reid.
EMA”. Erna Large» Numberrém

90 Texas Charlie, tie Boy Ranger. By Co).
Prentiss In graham.

91 Plow-ow to Siberia; or, A Yankee Boy
to tho Resoue. By Charles Morris.

92 “00110, Iho li‘untor; or. The Backwoods
Brothers. By” Capt. Frederick Whittaker.

93 Oregon Josh, tho Wizard mile; or, The
Young Trapper Champion. By Roger Star-
buck. I I ’

A new ime crew week.

Burma‘s Boar's Linux.“ is for sale by all news-
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ceipt of six cents. V

BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS.
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