n earnest prayer.

Mr. Hardy then said for that night it was unnecessary to keep watch as
usual. The Indians had pushed on, and could no longer dread pursuit, and
therefore there was no risk of a night attack. Besides which, there was
little chance of his sleeping. This proposition was a most acceptable
one, and in a very short time a perfect silence reigned in the camp.

Before daybreak they were again on the march, all on foot and leading
their horses, in order to spare them as much as possible should they be
required at night. Speed was now no object. It was, they knew, hopeless
to attack in broad daylight, as the Indians would be probably more than
a match for them, and Ethel's life would be inevitably sacrificed. They
walked, therefore, until within six or seven miles of the gorge, nearer
than which they dared not go, lest they might be seen by any straggling
Indian.

Their halting-place was determined by finding a stream with an abundance
of fresh grass on its banks. They dared not light a fire, but chewed
some of the tough charqui, and watched the distant cleft in the hills
which led to the ardently wished-for goal.

As evening fell they were all in the saddle, and were pleased to find
that the horses were decidedly fresher for their rest. They did not draw
rein until the ground became stony, and they knew that they must be at
the mouth of the gorge. Then they dismounted and picketed the horses.
Two of the Guachos were stationed with them as guards, and the rest went
stealthily forward,--the rockets being entrusted to the care of Terence,
who fastened them tightly together with a cord, and then hung them by a
loop, like a gun, over his shoulder, in order that he might have his
hands free.

It was still only eight o'clock,--dangerously early for a surprise; but
the whole party were quite agreed to risk everything, as no one could
say in what position Ethel might be placed, and what difference an hour
might make. Their plan was to steal quietly up to the first hut they
found, to gag its inmates, and compel one of them, under a threat of
instant death, to guide them to the hut in which Ethel was placed.

Suddenly Mr. Hardy was startled by a dark figure rising from a rock
against which he had almost stumbled, with the words, 'White man good.
Tawaina friend. Come to take him to child.'

Then followed a few hurried questions; and no words can express the
delight and gratitude of Mr. Hardy and his sons, and the i