As for yourn, I don't wonder
yur heart beats like a chased rabbit's; myen air doin' the same for
Concheeter. Wal, niver fear! Ef thar's a hair o' eyther o' thar heads
teched, you'll hear the crack o' Walt Wilder's rifle, and see its bullet
go into the breast o' him as harms 'em. I don't care who or what he
air, or whar he be. Nor I don't care a durn--not the valley of a dried
buffler-chip--what may come arter--hangin', garrotin', or shootin'. At
all risks, them two sweet creeturs air bound to be protected from harum;
an ef it comes, they shall be reevenged. I swar that, by the Eturnal!"

"I join you in the oath," pronounces Hamersley, with emphatic fervour,
once more exchanging a hand-squeeze with his companion. "Yes, Walt; the
brave Miranda may be sacrificed--I fear it must be so. But for his
sister, there is still a hope that we may save her; and surely heaven
will help us. If not, I shall be ready to die. Ah! death would be
easier to bear than the loss of Adela!"

"An' for this chile the same, rayther than he shed lose Concheeter."

CHAPTER FORTY NINE.

A CAUTIOUS COMMANDER.

No need saying that the cavalcade seen passing the copse is the lancer
troop of Colonel Uraga.

Some thirty hours before, they ascended to the Staked Plain, and are now
nearly across it. Guided by the traitor, they had no need to grope
their way, and have made quick time. In a few hours more they will
pounce upon the prey for which they have swooped so far.

The two men concealed in the grove expect them to ride on without
stopping, till out of sight. Instead, they see them draw up at a few
miles distance, though all remain mounted. Two separate from the rest
keep on a couple of hundred yards ahead, then also halt.

These are Uraga himself, with his adjutant Roblez.

'Tis only a temporary pause to exchange counsel about the plan of
proceeding--as a falcon expands itself in the air before its last flight
towards the quarry it has selected.

Before separating from his followers, Uraga has summoned to his side the
youngest commissioned officer of the troop, saying,--

"Alferes! go back to that Indian! Send the brute on to the front here."

Manuel is the individual thus coarsely indicated.

Told that he is wanted, the peon spurs his mule forward, and places
himself by the side of the commanding officer, who has meanwhile
dismounted.

In the countenance of the Indian there is an expression of conscious
guilt, such