_Soto en la puerta_!" "_Cavallo mozo_!" ascending in
increased monotone, proclaim it to be the never-ending national game of
monte.

Meanwhile Uraga, with the larger body of the lancers, has got down into
the glen, and is making way towards the point aimed at. He proceeds
slowly and with caution. This for two distinct reasons--the sloping
path is difficult even by day, at night requiring all the skill of
experienced riders to descend it. Still with the traitor at their head,
who knows every step, they gradually crawl down the cliff, single file,
again forming "by twos" as they reach the more practicable causeway
below.

Along this they continue to advance in silence and like caution.
Neither the lancer colonel nor his lieutenant has forgotten the terrible
havoc made among the Tenawas by the two men who survived that fearful
affray, and whom they may expect once more to meet. They know that both
have guns--the traitor has told them so--and that, as before, they will
make use of them. Therefore Uraga intends approaching stealthily, and
taking them by surprise. Otherwise he may himself be the first to
fall--a fate he does not wish to contemplate. But there can be no
danger, he fancies as he rides forward. It is now the mid-hour of
night, a little later, and the party to be surprised will be in their
beds. If all goes well he may seize them asleep.

So far everything seems favourable. No sound comes from the direction
of the lonely dwelling, not even the bark of a watch dog. The only
noises that interrupt the stillness of the night are the lugubrious cry
of the coyote and the wailing note of the whip-poor-will; these, at
intervals blending with the sweeter strain of the tzenzontle--the
Mexican nightingale--intermittently silenced as the marching troop
passes near the spot where it is perched.

Once more, before coming in sight of the solitary jacal, Uraga commands
a halt. This time to reconnoitre, not to rest or stay. The troopers
sit in their saddles, with reins ready to be drawn; like a flock of
vultures about to unfold their wings for the last swoop upon their
victims--to clutch, tear, kill, do with them as they may wish!

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO.

A BLOODLESS CAPTURE.

A house from which agreeable guests have just taken departure is rarely
cheerful. The reverse, if these have been very agreeable--especially on
the first evening after.

The rude sheiling which gives shelter to the refugees is no exc