eed, an' some o' us may niver leave it alive."

Jupiter and Harkness have brought up the horses, and are holding them in
readiness. Soon they are mounted, Heywood taking Jessie on his croup,
Helen having a horse to herself--that late belonging to Bosley--while
the latter is compelled to share the saddle with Harkness.

Heywood leads off; the suspected men ordered to keep close after; while
Woodley reserves the rear-guard to himself and his rifle. Before
parting, he spurs alongside Clancy, and holds out his hand, saying:--

"Gi'e me a squeeze o' yur claws, Charley. May the Almighty stan' your
frien' and keep you out o' Ole Nick's clutches. Don't hev' any
dubiousness 'bout us. Tho' we shed kum across Satan hisself wi' all his
hellniferous host, Sime Woodley 'll take care o' them sweet gurls, or go
to grass trying." With this characteristic wind-up, he puts the spur to
his horse, and closes upon the rest already parted from the spot.

Alone remain under the live-oak, Clancy and the mulatto, with horse,
hound, and mule.

Varied the emotions in Clancy's mind, as he stands looking after; but
all dark as clouds coursing across a winter's sky. For they are all
doubts and fears; that most felt finding expression in the desponding
soliloquy.

"I may never see her again!"

As the departing cavalcade is about to enter among the trees, and the
floating drapery of her dress is soon to pass out of sight, he half
repents his determination, and is almost inclined to forego it.

But the white skirt disappears, and the dark thought returning, becomes
fixed as before. Then, facing towards Jupiter, he directs:--

"Mount your mule, Jupe. We've only one more journey to make; I hope a
short one. At its end we'll meet your old master, and you'll see him
get what he deserves--his _death shot_!"

CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE.

FOR THE RENDEZVOUS.

Stillness is again restored around the crossing of the San Saba, so far
as it has been disturbed by the sound of human voices. Nature has
resumed her reign, and only the wild creatures of her kingdom can be
heard calling, in tones that tell not of strife.

But for a short while does this tranquillity continue. Soon once more
upon the river's bank resound rough voices, and rude boisterous
laughter, as a band of mounted men coming from the Mission side, spur
their horses down into its channel, and head to go straight across.
While under the shadow of the fringing timber, no one could