He was
perfectly unarmed, and this consideration rendered him doubly cautious.
The matter, however, had but few issues. To go back would be absurd; to
halt where he was, still more so. There was nothing, then, for it but to
advance; and he continued to do so, calmly and warily, till about twenty
paces from the rock where the other sat, still and immovable. Then it
was that, dropping on one knee, the stranger threw back a cloak that he
wore, and took a deliberate aim at him.

The steady precision of the attitude was enough to show Cashel that
the man was well versed in the use of firearms. The distance was
short, also, and the chance of escape consequently, the very smallest
imaginable. Roland halted, and crossing his arms upon his breast, stood
to receive the fire exactly as he would have done in a duel. The other
never moved; his dark eye glanced along the barrel without blinking, and
his iron grasp held the weapon still pointed at Cashel's heart.

[Illustration: 262]

"Fire!" cried Roland, with the loud utterance he would have used in
giving the word of command; and scarcely was it spoken when the rifle
was flung to the earth, and, springing to his feet, a tall and muscular
man advanced with an outstretched hand to meet him.

"Don't you know me yet, Roland?" cried a deep voice in Spanish; "not
remember your comrade?"

"What!" exclaimed Casbel, as he rubbed his eyes and shook himself as if
to insure he was not dreaming. "This is surely impossible! you cannot be
my old friend and shipmate Enrique!"

"That am I, my boy," cried the other, throwing his arms around him and
embracing him in true Mexican fashion; "your own old comrade for many a
year, who has sailed with you, fought with you, drunk with you, played
with you, and swears now that he wishes for nothing but the old times
over again."

"But how came you here? and when? By what chance did you discover me?"
said Roland, as he clasped the other's hand in both his own.

"'T is a long story, _amigo mio_ but you shall have it all one of these
days."

"True; there will be time enough to tell it, for you shall not leave me,
Enrique. I was longing for a face of an old comrade once again--one of
the old 'Esmeralda's,' with whom my happiest days were passed."

"I can well believe it," said Enrique; "and it was to see if wealth had
not sapped your courage, as I know it has your high spirits, that I took
aim at you, a while ago. Had you quailed, Roland, I almost t