ied off
by force; was not this girl the most devout and dutiful in the parish? He
saddled his mule forthwith and rode into Caracas. The officer had
delivered his report, which may be easily imagined. Governments in Spanish
America at this day resent any kind of interference from the clergy. Had a
layman complained, doubtless there would have been an inquiry; in
Venezuela, as elsewhere, maidens are not to be carried off by young
aristocrats and no word said. But the authorities simply called on the
accused for an explanation, accepted his statement that the girl followed
him of her free-will, and recommended him to marry her. This he did, as
Arnold ascertained. As for the rest--_quien sabe_?

These sad events account for the old Indian's behaviour. Arnold found him
at home, and with him a young man not to be recognised at first, who
proved to be the lover. The muscles of his neck had been severed, causing
him to hold his head awry, and a slash had partially disabled his right
arm. Arnold was told abruptly that he could not lodge there, and he
withdrew. But on a sudden the lover whispered eagerly. They called him
back.

'Will you buy the Cattleya?' asked old Jose.

'How much?'

'Fifty dollars and a good gun.'

'It's a bargain.'

He paid there and then, nor quitted the spot, though very hungry, until
his followers had sawn through the branch and lowered its burden to the
ground. Carrying his spoil in triumph, suspended on a pole, Arnold sought
the Cura's house. There he heard the tale I have unfolded.

Not until evening did the Padre chance to see the giant Cattleya. He was
vexed, naturally, since his church lost its accustomed due. But when
Arnold told what he had paid for it, the good man was deeply moved. 'Holy
Virgin and all saints!' he cried, 'there will be murder!' And he set off
running to the Indian's house. It was empty. Jose and the lover had been
seen on the road to Caracas hours before--with the gun.

I am sorry that I cannot finish the story; too often we miss the denoument
in romances of actual life. But the Cura felt no doubt. It may be
to-night, or next year, or ten years hence, he said, but the captain is
doomed. Our Indians never forget nor forgive, nor fail when at length
they strike.

The murder was not announced whilst Arnold remained in the country. But
all whom he questioned gave the same forecast. Unless the Indians were
seized or died they would surely have vengeance.

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