d, by the Provisional Government, to
Paez, entreating his return; and, after much cautious hesitation, he
resolved, in the following September, to comply with the request.
Subsequent events belong rather to the chronology of the day than to the
page of history we have thrown open here. Our task is at an end; the
career of the Llanero has been unfolded; we have placed ourselves in the
presence of the comrade of Bolivar, and have witnessed the rise of the
Venezuelan Republic.

BULLS AND BEARS.

[Continued.]

CHAPTER XI.

SHOWING AT WHAT COST OUR HERO ESCAPED DROWNING.

The boat lay at the wharf, a pretty little craft of six or eight tons,
with a mainsail and jib. It was a delightful afternoon; a gentle
westerly wind swept over a placid sea, and the sky was as clear as the
mirror that reflected its exquisite blue. Greenleaf and Miss Sandford
took their seats amidships, leaving the stern for the boatman. The
ropes were cast off, and the sailor was about stepping aboard, when it
was discovered that the fishing-lines had been left behind. Old Tarry
was dispatched to bring them, and he rolled off as fast as his habitual
gait allowed him. When he was fairly up the hill, Miss Sandford said,--

"You know how to sail a boat, don't you?"

"Yes," said Greenleaf, "I have frequently been out alone; but I thought
I would not take the responsibility of a more precious freight."

"It would be delightful to have a sail by ourselves."

"Charming, truly! Our salt-water friend may be a very estimable person,
but we should be freer to talk in his absence."

"Suppose you try it. I will sit here, and you take his place."

Greenleaf hesitated; the proposal was a tempting one, but he had no
great confidence in his own skill.

"The sea is like a pond," continued his companion. "We can sail out a
short distance, and then return for our pilot, if we like."

Greenleaf allowed himself to be persuaded. He shoved off the boat,
hoisted sail, and they were soon lightly skimming the waters of the bay.
They rounded the rocky point and stood for the eastward. Their boatman
soon appeared on the shore and made frantic gestures to no purpose; they
looked back and rather enjoyed his discomfiture.

Never did the sea have such a fascination for Greenleaf. He held the
rudder and drew the sheets with a feeling of proud mastery, deeper and
more exciting than the horseman feels on the back of his steed. These
first emotions, however, gradual