ped behind a tree,
which had afforded a sufficient shelter against the mad rush of the
terrified stag; but his cry of warning had come too late for the young
Mexican, who had less experience in this kind of chase, and who,
standing full in the path of the furious beast, was knocked down, and
run over. I pushed Pablo, who was howling and wringing his hands, on one
side, and with Menou, proceeded to investigate the hurts which the other
Mexican had received. His coat was torn, and both legs were bleeding,
having been rent by the deer's antlers. Fortunately the wounds were not
deep, or he might have had serious reason to regret the bad aim he had
taken. We placed him on his horse, and turned towards home.

It was midnight when we reached the house with the wounded man, and the
carcass of the deer that Menou and I had shot. The sight of a white
figure at the window of the apartment occupied by the Mexican, warned us
that his wife was watching for his arrival. At the sound of our horses'
feet, she came hurrying down stairs, and out of the house to meet us;
and upon beholding her husband, pale, exhausted, and supported on his
horse by couple of negroes, she uttered a shrill cry, and with the word
"_Perdido!_" sank, almost fainting, on the door steps.

"Gracious God!" cried a second female voice at that moment. "A
misfortune! Is it Howard?"

It was Louise, who at that moment made her appearance in her nightdress,
breathless with terror.

"_Mon Dieu_, it is only the Mexican! Thank God!" lisped she, in an
accent of infinite joy and relief.

"Thanks, dearest Louise! for those words," said I; "they make me very
happy."

I caught her in my arms, and pressed a kiss upon her lips. She struggled
from my embrace, and, blushing deeply, hurried back into her chamber.

I now followed Menou into the apartment of the Mexican, whose wife was
hanging over him, speechless with grief and anxiety. Menou had much
trouble to get her away from him, in order that he might examine and
dress his hurts. I do not know where the worthy Creole had learned his
surgery, but he was evidently no tyro in the healing art; and he cut out
the flesh injured by the antler, washed and bandaged the wounds, with a
dexterity that really inspired me with confidence in him. The wounds
were not dangerous, but might easily have become so, taking into
consideration the heat of the weather, (the thermometer stood at
eighty-six,) and the circumstance of their having b