a done. But ride forrard, capt'n, an see
for yurself. The weemen are clost by hyar at the shanty. Rube's a
tryin' to pacify them, poor critters."

Oh, that terrible foreboding!

I made no response to Garey's last speech, but rode forward as fast as
my horse could carry me.

A brace of minutes brought me up to the rancho; and there I beheld a
spectacle that caused the blood to curdle in my veins.

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE.

A CRUEL PROSCRIPTION.

The open space in front of the hovel was occupied by a group of women--
most of them young girls. There were six or seven; I did not count
them. There were two or three men, Mexicans, mixed up in the group.
Rube was in their midst, endeavouring in his broken Spanish to give them
consolation and assurance of safety. Poor victims! they needed both.

The women were half-naked--some of them simply _en chemise_. Their long
black hair fell loosely over their shoulders, looking tossed, wet, and
draggly. There was blood upon it; there was blood upon their cheeks in
seams half dried, but still dropping. The same horrid red mottled their
necks and bosoms, and there was blood upon the hands that had wiped
them. A red-brown blotch appeared upon the foreheads of all. In the
moonlight, it looked as if the skin had been burnt.

I rode closer to one, and examined it: it was a brand--the fire-stamp of
red-hot iron. The skin around was scarlet; but in the midst of this
halo of inflammation I could distinguish, from their darker hue, the
outlines of the two letters I wore upon my button--the well-known "U.S."

She who was nearest me raised her hands, and tossing back from her
cheeks the thick clustered hair, cried out--

"_Miralo, senor! mira_!"

Oh, Heaven! my flesh crept as I looked upon the source of that crimson
haemorrhage. Her ears had been cut off--they were wanting!

I needed no further uplifting of their hair to satisfy me that the
others had been served in like manner; the red stream still trickling
adown their necks was evidence enough.

The men, too, had been similarly abused. Two of them had suffered still
further mutilation. They held up their right arms before my face--not
their hands. _There were no hands_. I saw the hanging sleeve, and the
blood-steeped bandage on the stump. Their hands had been chopped off at
the wrists. Horrid sight!

Both men and women gathered around me, clasping my knees, and uttering
prayers and entreaties. No doubt most o