s
dropped dead between your legs, and the garments you carry on your back,
that Arellanos and his widow have left you nothing?"

"Nothing but the memory of their goodness to me, and a reverence for
their name."

"Poor Arellanos! I was very sorry for him," said Cuchillo, whose
hypocrisy had here committed him to an unguarded act of imprudence.

"You knew him then?" hastily inquired Tiburcio, with some show of
surprise. "He never spoke to me of you!"

Cuchillo saw that he had made a mistake, and hastened to reply.

"No, I didn't know him personally. I have only heard him much spoken of
as a most worthy man, and a famous gambusino. That is why I was sorry
on hearing of his death. Was it not I who first apprised his widow of
the unfortunate occurrence, having myself heard of it by chance?"

Notwithstanding the natural tone in which Cuchillo delivered this
speech, he was one of those persons of such a sinister countenance, that
Tiburcio could not help a certain feeling of suspicion while regarding
it. But by little and little the feeling gave way, and the young man's
thoughts taking another turn, he remained for some moments buried in a
silent reverie. It was merely the result of his feebleness, though
Cuchillo, ever ready to suspect evil, interpreted his silence as arising
from a different cause.

Just then the horse of Cuchillo began to show evident signs of terror,
and the instant after, with his hair standing on end, he came galloping
up to his master as if to seek protection. It was the hour when the
desert appears in all its nocturnal majesty. The howling of the jackals
could be heard in the distance; but all at once a voice rising far above
all the rest appeared to give them a signal to be silent. It was the
voice of the American lion.

"Do you hear it?" inquired Cuchillo of his companion.

A howl equally loud, but of a different tone, was heard on the opposite
side. "It is the puma and jaguar about to battle for the body of your
horse, friend Tiburcio, and whichever one is conquered may take a fancy
to revenge himself on us. Suppose you mount behind me, and let us be
off?"

Tiburcio followed the advice; and notwithstanding the double load, the
horse of Cuchillo galloped off like an arrow, impelled to such swift
course by the growling of the fierce animals, that for a long time could
be heard, as if they were following in the rear.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

A STUMBLING HORSE.

Far along the