nutes made their appearance.

"You have disposed of the horses?" said the Mochuelo.

The answer was in the affirmative. The horses had been securely tethered
in the thickest part of the wood, and left with an ample feed of corn
before them. It was most improbable that they should be discovered
during the few hours they must remain there; but even if they were,
their presence in that retired spot, whatever surprise it might awaken,
could afford, owing to the absence of the saddles and trappings, no clue
to their owners. To obviate any risk of their hoof-prints being traced,
Paco had had the forethought to take them into the stream, and lead them
for some distance along its shallow bed.

Upon reaching the top of the precipice, the first care of the Mochuelo
was to assemble his men, and warn them of the necessity of perfect
silence and extreme caution, upon which the lives of all depended. Under
pain of severe punishment, he commanded them to avoid the slightest
noise, and forbade their walking about, or leaving the place he
assigned to them. This was under the shadow of some ancient trees, whose
bushy crowns and branches were mingled and interlaced, so as to form a
roof impervious to the sun, and almost to rain. Amongst them meandered
one of two small streams, which, rising at different points of the
adjacent mountains, flowed down to the platform, and uniting upon it,
dashed over its brink, and formed the waterfall already described. For
the present, at least, there was little need of the Mochuelo's command
to ensure silence. Wearied by their rapid and toilsome march, the
guerillas stretched themselves upon the grass, and seemed disposed to
make amends by a morning nap for the vigilance and fatigues of the
night.

The Mochuelo took Herrera's arm. "I will show you," he said, "that I
have not overrated the security of our hiding-place."

Following the course of the rivulet, he led him to a place where a
contrivance of great simplicity explained the sudden, and, as it had
seemed, miraculous cessation of the waterfall. Just above the confluence
of the two streams, which were of moderate width, and not deep, but
which received, even in the summer months, an abundant supply of water
from the mountain-springs, were a couple of rough-fashioned
sluice-gates, consisting of strong boards, sliding down between grooved
posts, and which the strength of two men sufficed to remove or return to
their places. Above these gates, trenc