ice grew faint, and amidst horrible bursts of
laughter, like the shrieks of a lunatic, were heard the last
inarticulate words that escaped his lips.

A moment after, and the noise of the cascade alone broke the silence of
the desert. The abyss had swallowed up him whose life had been a long
tissue of crime.

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO.

THE MAN OF THE RED KERCHIEF.

Six months have elapsed since the three hunters, without deigning to
carry with them a single grain of the treasures of the valley of gold,
directed their steps, following the course of the Rio Gila, to the
plains of Texas. The rainy had succeeded to the dry season, without
anything being known of their fate, or of the expedition commanded by
Don Estevan de Arechiza.

Diaz was no more, having carried with him to the tomb the secret of the
wonderful valley--and Gayferos had followed his three liberators. What
had become of these intrepid hunters who had willingly encountered
fatigues, privations and dangers, instead of returning to civilised
life? Were they as rich and powerful as they might have been? Had the
desert claimed these three noble spirits, as it has done so many others?
Like the monk, who seeks in the silence of cloister forgetfulness of
the world's vain show, had Fabian in the sublimity of solitude been able
to forget the woman who loved him, and who secretly hoped for and
expected his return?

What we are about to relate will answer these questions.

One sultry afternoon, two men, mounted and armed to the teeth, pursued
the lonely road which leads from the utmost confines of the province of
Sonora to the Presidio of Tubac. Their costume, the coarse equipment of
their steeds, and the beauty of the latter, formed on the whole a
striking contrast and seemed to indicate subalterns despatched by some
rich proprietor, either to carry or to seek information.

The first was clothed in leather from head to foot, like the vaquero of
some noble hacienda. The second, dark and bearded like a Moor, though
less simply attired than his companion, did not appear to be of much
greater consideration.

At the end of a journey of some days the white houses of the Presidio
began to appear in the distance. The two cavaliers had probably
exhausted every subject of conversation, for they trotted on in silence.

The scanty vegetation which covered the plains they were crossing was
again becoming parched by the sun, after the winter rains; and the dry
gras