es of
his heart.

Its prelude is nigh, and the death of the Indian half-breed is to
initiate it. For the fugitive slave knows the part this vile caitiff
has played, and will not scruple to kill him; the less that it is now an
inexorable necessity. He but waits for the opportunity--has been
seeking it for some time.

It offers at length. Turning suddenly, and detecting the mestizo in his
act of deception, he asks laughingly why he should practice such a
trick. Then stooping forward, as if to verify it, his right arm is seen
to lunge out with something that glitters in his hand. It is the blade
of a bowie-knife.

In an instant the arm is drawn back, the glittering gone off the blade,
obliterated by blood! For it has been between the ribs, and through the
heart of the mestizo; who, slipping from his seat, falls to the floor,
without even a groan!

Grasping Clancy's gun, which chances to be in the tent, and then blowing
out the light, the mulatto moves off, leaving but a dead body behind
him.

Once outside, he looks cautiously around the encampment, scanning the
tents and the ground adjacent to them. He sees the big fire still red,
but not flaming. He can make out the forms of men lying around it--all
of them, for him fortunately, asleep.

Stepping, as if on eggs, and keeping as much as possible in shadow, he
threads his way through the tents until he is quite clear of the
encampment. But he does not go directly off. Instead, he makes a
circuit to the other side, where Brasfort is tied to a tree. A cut of
his red blade releases the hound, that follows him in silence, as if
knowing it necessary.

Then on to the corral where the horses are penned up.

Arriving at the fence he finds the bars, and there stopping, speaks some
words in undertone, but loud enough to be heard by the animals inside.
As if it were a cabalistic speech, one separates from the rest, and
comes towards him. It is the steed of Clancy. Protruding its soft
muzzle over the rail, it is stroked by the mulatto's hand, which soon
after has hold of the forelock. Fortunately the saddles are close by,
astride the fence, with the bridles hanging to the branches of a tree.
Jupiter easily recognises those he is in search of, and soon has the
horse caparisoned.

At length he leads the animal not mounting till he is well away from the
camp. Then, climbing cautiously into the saddle, he continues on,
Brasfort after; man, horse, and hound, makin