the sombre hue of lead; then darker, as if night had
suddenly descended over the sterile plain. The atmosphere, but a moment
before unpleasantly hot, is now cold as winter; the thermometer is less
than twenty minutes falling over forty degrees--almost to freezing
point!

It is not night which causes the darkness, nor winter the cold. Both
come from an atmospheric phenomenon peculiar to the table-lands of
Texas, and far more feared by the traveller. It is that called by
Mexicans and styled by the ex-cibolero _El Norte_; by Texans known as
"The Norther."

Alike dreaded by both.

CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN.

A CUMBERSOME CAPTIVE.

Having made prisoner of the peon, and drawn out of him all he is able to
tell, his captors have a difficulty in deciding what to do with him. It
will hamper them to take him along. Still they cannot leave him behind;
and the young Kentuckian is not cruel enough to kill him, though
convinced of his deserving death.

If left to himself, Walt might settle the question quickly. Indignant
at the Indian's treason, he has now a new reason to dislike him--as a
rival.

With the ex-Ranger this last weighs little. He is sure of having the
affections of Conchita. He has her heart, with the promise of her hand,
and in his own confiding simplicity has no fear of failure in that
sense--not a pang of jealousy. The idea of having for a rival the
abject creature at his feet, whom he could crush out of existence with
the heel of his horseskin boot, is too ridiculous for him to entertain.
He can laugh it to scorn.

Not for that would he now put an end to the man's life, but solely from
a sense of outraged justice, with the rough-and-ready retribution to
which, as a Texan Ranger, he has been accustomed.

His comrade, less prone to acts of high-handed punishment, restrains
him; and the two stand considering what they are to do with their
prisoner, now proving so inconvenient.

While still undecided a sound reaches their ears causing them to start
and turn pale. It is the trampling of horses; there can be no mistaking
it for aught else. And many of them; not two or three, or half a dozen,
but a whole troop.

Uraga and his lancers have re-entered the valley! They are riding up to
the ranche! What but this can it be? No other party of horsemen could
be expected in that place.

And no other thought have the two men hearing the hoof strokes. They
are sure it is the soldiers returning.

Instin