e end of it thrown over the limb of a pecan
tree--the other conditions being clearly expounded to him--he sees that
things can be no worse; and, seeing this, makes confession--full, if not
free. He discloses everything--the attack and capture of the caravan,
with the slaughter of the white men who accompanied it; he tells of the
retreat of two of them to the cliff, one of whom, by the description,
can be none other than Walt Wilder. When he at length comes to describe
the horrible mode in which their old comrade has perished, the Rangers
are almost frenzied with rage, and it is with difficulty some of them
can be withheld from breaking their given word, and tearing him limb
from limb.

He makes appeal to them for mercy, stating that he himself had no part
in that transaction; that, although they have found him among the
Indians, he was only as their prisoner; and forced to fight along with
them.

This is evidently untrue; but, false or true, it has the effect of
pacifying his judges, so far, that the _lariat_ is left loose around his
neck.

Further examination, and cross-examination, elicit other facts about the
captured caravan--in short, everything, except the secret alliance
between the Mexican officer and the Tenawa chief. Not thinking of
this--in truth, having no suspicion of it--his examiners do not put any
questions about it; and, for himself, the wretch sees no reason to
declare it, but the contrary. He indulges in the hope of one day
returning to the Del Norte, and renewing his relations with Colonel Gil
Uraga.

"Comrades!" cries the Ranger captain, addressing himself to his men, as
soon as the examination is concluded, "you all of you loved Walt
Wilder--all who knew him?"

"We did! we did!" is the response feelingly spoken. "So did I. Well,
he's dead, beyond a doubt. It's nearly a month ago, and he could not
last so long, shut up in that cave. His bones will be there, with those
of the other poor fellow, whoever he was, that went in with him. It's
dreadful to think of it! Now, from what this scoundrel says, it can't
be so very far from here. And, as we can make him guide us to the
place, I propose we go there, get the remains of our old comrade, and
give them Christian burial."

With the Texan Rangers obedience to duty is less a thing of command than
request; and this is a request of such nature as to receive instant and
unanimous assent "Let us go!" is the universal response. "We needn't