ORD.

To all appearance Fernand's fireworks are about to bear fruit, this
likely to be bitter. As the sky, darker after the lightning's flash, a
cloud is collecting over the new settlement, which threatens to sweep
down upon it in a rain storm of ruin. What but they could have caused
this cloud; or, at all events, given a cue for the time of its bursting.

It appears in the shape of a cohort of dusky horsemen, painted and
plumed. No need to say, they are the same that were seen by Hawkins and
Tucker.

Having crossed the river at its lower ford, where so far the hunters saw
their tracks, there losing them, the savages continued on. Not by the
main road leading to the mission, but along a path which deflects from
it soon after leaving the river's bank. A narrower trace, indeed the
continuation of that they had been following all along--the transverse
route across the bottom-land from bluff to bluff, on both sides
ascending to the steppe.

But though they came down on one side, they went not up on the other.
Instead, having reached the nether bluff, they turned sharp along its
base, by another and still narrower trace, which they knew would take
them up to the mission-building. A route tortuous, the path beset with
many obstacles; hence their having spent several hours in passing from
the ford to the mission-house, though the distance between is barely ten
miles.

No doubt they have good reason for submitting to the irksome delay
caused by the difficult track, as also for the cautious manner in which
they have been coming along it. Otherwise, they would certainly have
chosen the direct road running nearer the river's bank.

While Colonel Armstrong, and his friends, are enjoying themselves in the
refectory of the ancient mission-house, in the midst of their laughing
hilarity, the painted cavaliers have been making approach, and are now
halted, within less than half-a-mile from its walls. In such fashion as
shows, they do not intend a long stay in their stopping place. Not a
saddle is removed, or girth untightened; while the bridles, remaining on
their horses' heads, are but used as halters to attach them to the
trees.

The men have dismounted, but not to form camp, or make bivouac. They
kindle no fires, nor seem caring to cook, or eat. They drink, however;
several of them taking flasks from their saddle pouches, and holding
them to their heads bottom upward. Nothing strange in this. The Texan
Indian, w