t
will that this man should die. He has sent these men as the saviours of
his life. I acknowledge the hand of God!"

And forgetting that he held in his power his most mortal foe, the
murderer of his father--forgetting his oath, no more to be remembered
amidst the delicious emotions that filled his heart--remembering only
the promise of mercy he had made to Gertrudis, herself--he leant back
over the croup of his saddle, and cut the lazo by which the brigand was
attached to the tail of his horse.

Disdaining to listen to the outpouring of thanks which the craven wretch
now lavished upon him, he turned once more towards the messengers.

"Where is she who sent you?" inquired he in a low voice.

"There!" answered Zapote, pointing to a group of horsemen who at that
moment were seen advancing along the shore as the escort to a _litera_
which appeared in their midst.

Roncador, freed from the human body, which attached to his tail had so
frightened him, no longer refused to obey the spur; and in another
moment he was bounding in the direction where the curtains of the
_litera_ of Gertrudis were seen undulating under the last rays of the
waning moon.

CHAPTER SEVENTY NINE.

A BRACE OF CRAFTY COURIERS.

It is necessary to explain the cause of Don Mariano's advance towards
the spot.

From the place in which he and his party had taken their stand, they
could witness most part of the pursuit, as well as the events that
followed it; but so confusedly, that it was impossible to tell by the
eye who were the victors, and who the vanquished. The ear gave them a
better clue as to how the strife was turning; for the chase had not been
carried on in silence.

So long as the shores of the lake at that especial point were cleared of
people, it mattered little to Costal and Clara who should have the
advantage. With Don Mariano the case was difficult.

Convinced by what he had seen, that the leader of the sanguinary pursuit
could be no other than the Colonel Tres-Villas, whose life was now
almost as precious to him as that of his own daughter--since hers
depended upon it--he stood for a while absorbed in the most painful
uncertainty. From the commencement of the drama he had, in fact,
preserved a solemn silence--feeling that words could in no way relieve
the anxiety of Gertrudis.

A vivid sentiment of curiosity had equally kept in silence Don Cornelio
and his two followers, who at some paces from the _litera_ stood
lis