as pleasant.

"It was not likely that anyone would discover the track we had taken in
our flight. Even the resentment of Uraga would scarce pursue us across
the Staked Plain. In any case, there was no help for it but to remain
in the valley, as we had not animals enough to carry us on. Our only
alternative was to go back to the Del Norte--a thing not to be thought
of. We resolved, therefore, on staying, at least for a time. I had
conceived a plan for communicating with my friends in New Mexico, and am
not without hope that sooner or later we may get tidings that will make
it safe for as to return. In our country, as you know, there is nothing
permanent; and we have hopes ere long to see the Liberal party once more
in the ascendant.

"Our resolution to remain here becoming fixed we sot about making our
situation as comfortable as circumstances would permit. We erected this
humble tenement whose roof now shelters us. We turned fishermen and
hunters; in the last my sister proving more accomplished than any of
us--a real huntress, as you have seen. We have enjoyed the life
amazingly; more especially our worthy _medico_, who is an enthusiastic
naturalist, and here finds a rare opportunity of gratifying his
scientific tastes. For subsistence we have not had to depend altogether
upon the chase. Manuel, one of our peons, an old muleteer, makes an
occasional trip to Albuquerque, the route of which he has good reason to
remember. I send him with messages, and to purchase provisions. He is
cautious to make his approaches under cover of night, and do his
marketing with circumspection. With our gold, not yet all gone, he is
enabled to bring back such commodities as we stand in need of; while a
friend, entrusted with the secret of our hiding-place, keeps us informed
of the _novedades_. Now you know all."

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

THE INTERCEPTED LETTER.

Colonel Miranda, having told the tale of his perilous escape, for a time
remains silent and reflective. So does his listener. Both are thinking
on the same subject--the villainy of Gil Uraga.

Hamersley first breaks silence, asking the question,--

"Did you get my letter?"

"What letter?"

"I wrote you only one. Now I think of it, you could not have received
it. No. By the time it would reach Albuquerque, you must have been
gone from there."

"I got no letter from you, Don Francisco. You say you sent one. What
was the nature of its contents?"