ers of the tribe.

"Success covers a multitude of sins," says the proverb, and so it proved
in his case.

Notwithstanding his evil nature, I was for various reasons strongly
attracted towards this man. Chief among these was the fact that he spoke
English--not very fluently, it is true, but sufficiently to be able to
carry on a conversation without much difficulty. Then, from the time of
my first entry into the village he had treated me with uniform kindness;
why this was so I know not, but the fact remains that he did so, and it
was by his assistance that I was enabled to perfect myself in the Indian
language, and also to gain some knowledge of Spanish, which afterwards
did me good service. Much of my spare time, when he was not absent with
his band, I spent in his company, and in our talks I had gained
considerable knowledge of his past history. What I had heard, however,
only made me more curious to hear the whole, and one evening I
importuned him to give me some account of his past life. After some
hesitation he consented, and filling our pipes, we reclined upon a
buffalo robe before the entrance to his lodge, while he told me his
story.

THE RENEGADE'S HISTORY.

"My real name is Pedro Vargas--_carrai_! it sounds strange enough in my
ears now, for it is many years since I have heard it uttered.

"I was born on the banks of the Del Norte, where my father was a
_vaquero_ on the estate on Don Ramon d'Echeverra. I remember but little
of my childhood, except that my life was a hard and unhappy one, for I
was one of eleven children, and we were miserably poor. When I reached
my eighth year, I was considered old enough to assist my father in his
daily duties; under his tuition, I was able in a few months to ride like
a Camanche, to fling the lazo with unerring aim, and to perform with
credit most of the drudgery which fell to my share. In this manner the
time passed until I was about eleven years of age, when the events
occurred which separated me from home and friends, and indirectly made
me what I am--the boldest warrior of the Hietans--"Hissoo-de-cha," the
renegade, the terror of the frontier.

"The estate of Don Ramon was situated so far down the river as to be out
of the track of the Indian raiding parties, and for a generation the
red-skinned warriors had never troubled that region. But in the autumn
of the year of which I speak, a large party of Camanches had entered
Chihuahua, and penetrating almost to the