ly-made friend seemed like an
appeal to him. And it is just possible some such thought was in the
mind of the Mexican colonel. In the strong man by his side he saw the
type of a race who can protect; just such an oak as he would wish to see
his sister extend her arms tendril-like around, and cling on to for
life.

Hamersley could not help having vague and varied misgivings; yet among
them was one purpose he had already spoken of--a determination to return
to Albuquerque.

"I am sure to be back here," he said, as if the promise was meant to
tranquillise the apprehensions of the colonel. Then, changing to a more
careless tone, he added,--

"I cannot come by the spring caravans; there would not be time enough to
make my arrangements. But there is a more southern route, lately
discovered, that can be travelled at any season. Perhaps I may try
that. In any case, I shall write you by the trains leaving the States
in the spring, so that you may know when to expect me. And if, Colonel
Miranda," he added, after a short reflective pause, in which his
countenance assumed a new and graver form of expression, "if any
political trouble, such as you speak of, should occur, and you may find
it necessary to flee from your own land, I need not tell you that in
mine you will find a friend and a home. After what has happened here,
you may depend upon the first being true, and the second hospitable,
however humble."

On that subject there was no further exchange of speech. The two
individuals, so oddly as accidentally introduced, flung aside the stumps
of their cigars; and, clasping hands, stood regarding one another with
the gaze of a sincere, unspeakable friendship.

Next morning saw the Kentuckian riding away from Albuquerque towards the
capital of New Mexico, an escort of dragoons accompanying him, sent by
the Mexican colonel as a protection against marauding Indians.

But all along the road, and for months after, he was haunted with the
memory of that sweet face seen upon the _sola_ wall; and instead of
laughing at himself for having fallen in love with a portrait, he but
longed to return, and look upon its original--chafing under an
apprehension, with which the parting words of his New Mexican host had
painfully inspired him.

CHAPTER FOUR.

A PRONUNCIAMENTO.

A little less than a quarter of a century ago the Navajo Indians were
the terror of the New Mexican settlements. It was no uncommon thing for
them to