litted and danced before his eyes till tortured nature could bear no
more, and insensibility ended his sufferings for a time.

* * * * *

The Indians must have thought that, although their attack on our
_estancia_ had failed, we were too weak or too frightened to pursue them.
They did not know Moncrieff. Wounded though he was, he had issued forth
from behind the ramparts with thirty well-armed and splendidly-mounted
men. They followed the enemy up for seven long hours, and succeeded in
teaching them such a lesson that they have never been seen in that
district since.

Towards noon we were riding homewards, tired and weary enough now, when
Donald suggested our visiting the old Jesuit ruin, and so we turned our
horses' heads in that direction.

Donald had ridden on before, and as I drew near I heard him cry, 'Oh,
Moncrieff, come quickly! Here is some poor fellow lashed to the
ombu-tree!'

CHAPTER XXV

FAREWELL TO THE SILVER WEST.

We cut the man's cords of thongs, we spread rugs on the grass and laid him
gently down, then bathed his poor body with wine, and poured a little down
his throat.

In about half an hour the wretched being we had thought dead slowly raised
himself on his elbow and gazed at _me_ as well as his swollen eyes would
permit him. His lips moved as if to speak, but no intelligible sound
escaped them. The recollection dawned on my mind all at once, and in that
sadly-distorted face I discovered traces of the man who had wrought us so
much sorrow and evil.

I took his hand in mine.

'Am I right?' I said. 'Are you Duncan M'Rae?'

He nodded drowsily, closed his eyes again, and lay back.

We cut branches from the ombu-tree, tied them together with the thongs
that had bound the victim's limbs, and so made a litter. On this we placed
rugs and laid the man; and between two mules he was borne by the Gauchos
slowly homewards to the _estancias_. Poor wretch! he had expected to come
here all but a conqueror, and in a position to dictate his own terms--he
arrived a dying man.

Our _estancia_ for many weeks was now turned almost into a hospital, for
even those Indians who had crept wounded into the bush, preferring to die
at the sides of hedges to falling into our hands, we had brought in and
treated with kindness, and many recovered.

All the dead we could find we buried in the humble little graveyard on the
braeside. We buried them without respect of