stated such
circumstances as were necessary to convince the Spaniard of the
importance of the discovery. It would be impossible to paint the
stupefied expression of his countenance, as he listened to these
interrogatories. The very desert itself had spoken!

"Does Tiburcio know all this?" he asked, with an ill-dissembled anxiety.

"No; but he knows that the assassin of his father had a horse like
yours; that he was wounded in the leg; that he flung the dead body in
the water. Of one matter only is he still ignorant--the name of the
murderer. But now let me say to you; if you give me the slightest cause
to suspect your fidelity, I shall deliver the secret to this young man,
who will crush you like a scorpion. Good blood never lies; so I repeat
it, Cuchillo; no deception--no treason, or your life will answer for
it!"

"Well, as regards Tiburcio," muttered Cuchillo to himself, "if you only
keep the secret till this time to-morrow night, you may then shout it in
his ears: I shall have no fear of his hearing you."

The outlaw was one of those characters who soon recover from a shock,
similar to that he had just received. Almost on the instant he
inquired, with impudent assurance:

"But your Excellency has not proved to me that this young fellow is in
love with Dona Rosarita; and until I have proof of this I shall not
doubt my penetration--"

"Hush!" interrupted the Spaniard; "I fancy I hear voices!"

Both remained silent. In advancing across the garden, the two men had
approached nearer to the walls of the building, and on that side of it
which fronted the window belonging to the chamber of Rosarita. They
were still at a considerable distance from the window itself; but so
tranquil was the night, that sounds could be heard along way off. As
they stood to listen, a confused murmur of voices reached their ears--as
of two persons engaged in conversation--but the words could not be
distinguished.

"It is the voice of Tiburcio and Rosarita!" muttered the outlaw.

"Did I not tell you? You may take that, I think, as an instalment of
the proof you are desirous of having."

A reflection, at this moment, came into the mind of the Spaniard, that
struck upon his spirit like a thunderbolt. It was this:--"If the young
girl, after all, is really in love with this fellow, what a dilemma! I
may have to renounce all idea of the marriage, which I had designed as
the corner-stone of my vast edifice!"

Don Estevan was t