way
off the track, amid the trees. The hail is at once responded to by the
steeds they are bestriding; and is promptly re-answered, not by one
horse, but three neighing simultaneously.

A strange thing this, that calls for explanation. What horses can be
there, save their own? And none of the Rangers have ridden in the
direction whence the "whighering" proceeds.

A dozen of them do so now; before they have gone far, finding three
horses standing under the shadow of a large live oak, with three men
mounted on their backs, who endeavour to keep concealed behind its broad
buttressed trunk.

In vain. Guided by the repeated neighing and continuous tramp of their
horses, the Rangers ride up, close around, and capture them.

Led out into the light, the Texans see before them three men in soldier
garb--the uniform of Mexican lancers. It is the corporal squad sent
back by Uraga to bring on the truant traitor.

Of their errand the Rangers know nought, and nothing care. Enough that
three of their hated foemen are in their hands, their hostility
intensified by the events of the hour.

No more fuel is needed to fire them up. Their vengeance demands a
victim, and three have offered ready to hand.

As they ride back to the road, they leave behind them a tableau, telling
of a spectacle just passed--one having a frightful finale. From a large
limb of the live oak, extending horizontally, hang three men, the
Mexican lancers. They are suspended by the neck, dangling, dead!

CHAPTER SIXTY THREE.

A SPLIT TRAIL.

The Texans ride on to the ranche. They still chafe at being thwarted of
a vengeance; by every man of them keenly felt, after learning the
criminality of the Lancer Colonel. Such unheard of atrocity could not
help kindling within their breasts indignation of the deepest kind.

The three soldiers strung up to the trees have been its victims.

But this episode, instead of appeasing the executioners, has only roused
them, as tigers who have tasted blood hindered from banqueting on flesh.

They quite comprehend the position in which the norther has placed them.
On the way Hamersley and Wilder, most discomforted of all, have made
them aware of it. The swollen stream will prevent egress from the
valley till it subsides.

There is no outlet save above and below, and both these are now
effectually closed, shutting them up as in a strong-walled prison. On
each side the precipice is unscalable. Even if men m