s another group, more resembling
captives. This is composed of three men upon mules, fast bound to
saddle and stirrup, two of them having their arms pinioned behind their
backs. Their animals are led each by a trooper who rides before. The
two about whose security such precaution has been taken are Don Valerian
and the doctor, the third, with his arms free, is Chico. His
fellow-servant Manuel, also on mule-back, is following not far behind,
but in his attitude or demeanour there is nothing to tell of the
captive. If at times he looks gloomy, it is when he reflects upon his
black treason and infamous ingratitude. Perhaps he has repented, or
deems the prospect not so cheerful as expected. After all, what will be
his reward? He has ruined his master and many others beside, but this
will not win him the love of Conchita.

The spectators feel somewhat relieved as Colonel Miranda comes in sight.
Still more as the march brings him nearer, and it can be seen that he
sits his horse with no sign of having received any injury; and neither
has Don Prospero. The elaborate fastenings are of themselves evidences
that no hurt has happened to them. It has been a capture without
resistance, as their friends hoped it would, their fears having been of
a conflict to end in the death of the exiles.

One by one, and two by two, the troops come filing on, till the leader
is opposite the spot where the two spectators stand crouching among the
trees. These are dwarf cedars, and give the best cover for concealment.
Thoroughly screened by their thickly-set boughs and dense dark foliage,
Hamersley and the hunter command a clear view of everything below. The
distance to the summit of the pass is about two hundred yards in a
slanting direction.

As the lancer colonel approaches the spot where the picket is posted, he
halts and gives an order. It is for the guard to fall in along with the
rest of the troop.

At this moment a similar thought is in the minds of the two men whose
eyes are upon him from above. Wilder is the first to give expression to
it. He does so in an undertone,--

"Ef we ked trust the carry o' our rifles, Frank."

"I was thinking of it," is the rejoinder, equally earnest. "We can't
I'm afraid it's too far."

"I weesh I only had my old gun; she'd a sent a bullet furrer than that.
A blue pill inter his stomach 'ud simplerfy matters consid'rable. 'Tall
events it 'ud git your gurl out o' danger, and mayhap all on