he other an orange blossom; both showing as if
but lately plucked, and alike out of place there.

Dupre, with some slight botanic knowledge, knew that no orange-tree grew
near, nor yet any cypress. But he remembered having observed both in
the Mission-garden, into which the girls had been last seen going.
Without being able to guess why they should have brought sprig or flower
along, he was sure they had themselves been under the live-oak. Where
were they now?

In answer, Hawkins had cried: "Gone this way! Here's the tracks of the
shod horses leading up-stream, this side. Let's follow them!"

So they had done, after despatching Tucker with the report.

It is so far satisfactory, better than any one expected; and inspires
Colonel Armstrong with a feeling akin to hope. Something seems to
whisper him his lost children will be recovered.

Long ere the sun has set over the valley of the San Saba his heart is
filled, and thrilled, with joy indescribable. For his daughters are by
his side, their arms around his neck, tenderly, lovingly entwining it,
as on that day when told they must forsake their stately Mississippian
home for a hovel in Texas. All have reached the Mission; for the
scouting party having overtaken that of Woodley, came in along with it.

No, not all, two are still missing--Clancy and Jupiter. About the
latter Woodley has made no one the wiser; though he tells Clancy's
strange experience, which, while astounding his auditory, fills them
with keen apprehension for the young man's fate.

Keenest is that in the breast of Helen Armstrong. Herself saved, she is
now all the more solicitous about the safety of her lover. Her looks
bespeak more than anxiety--anguish.

But there is that being done to hinder her from despairing. The
pursuers are rapidly getting ready to start out, and with zeal unabated.
For, although circumstances have changed by the recovery of the
captives, there is sufficient motive for pursuit--the lost treasure to
be re-taken--the outlaws chastised--Clancy's life to be saved, or his
death avenged.

Woodley's words have fired them afresh, and they are impatient to set
forth.

Their impatience reaches its climax, when Colonel Armstrong, with head
uncovered, his white hair blown up by the evening breeze, addresses
them, saying:--

"Fellow citizens! We have to thank the Almighty that our dear ones have
escaped a great danger. But while grateful to God, let us remember
there i