ot safe here."

Then, continuing,--

"How know you that your servant Manuel has not been recognised while
executing some of those errands on which you've sent him; or that the
man himself may not turn traitor? I confess, from what I've seen of the
fellow, he has not favourably impressed me."

The words make an impression upon Miranda anything but pleasant. It is
not the first time for him to have the thought suggested by them. More
than once has he entertained suspicions about the peon's fidelity. It
is possible the man might prove traitor; if not then, at some future
time--aye, and probable, too, considering the reward offered for the
exile's head.

Miranda, knowing and now thinking of it, admits the justice of his
friend's fear. More; he sees cause for raising alarm. So does Don
Prospero, who, at the moment coming up, takes part in the conference.

It ends in the refugees resolving to stay in the valley till Hamersley
and Walt can return to them; then to forsake that asylum, no longer
deemed safe, and retire to one certainly so--the land over which waves a
flag powerful to protect its citizens and give the same to their
friends--the Star-spangled Banner.

CHAPTER FORTY THREE.

THE LAST APPEAL.

"I have news for you, _nina_."

It is Colonel Miranda speaking to his sister, shortly after the
conversation reported.

"What news, Valerian?"

"Well, there are two sorts of them."

"Both good, I hope."

"Not altogether; one will be pleasant to you, the other, perhaps, a
little painful."

"In that case they should neutralise one another; anyhow, let me hear
them."

"I shall tell the pleasant ones first. We shall soon have an
opportunity of leaving this lonely place."

"Do you call that good news? I rather think it the reverse. What will
the bad be?"

"But, dear Adela, our life here, away from all society, has been a harsh
experience--to you a terrible one."

"In that, _hermano mio_, you're mistaken. You know I don't care a straw
for what the world calls society--never did. I prefer being free from
its stupid restraints and silly conventionalities. Give me Nature for
my companion--ay, in her wildest scenes and most surly moods."

"Surely you've had both to a surfeit."

"Nothing of the kind; I'm not tired of Nature yet. I have never been
happier than in this wilderness home. How different from my convent
school--my prison, I should rather call it! Oh, it is charming! and if
I were t