me
known,--the whole story leaked out; and then, indeed, did scandal enjoy
a feast. Catalina had been for some time the acknowledged belle of the
place, and, what with envious women and jealous men, she was now treated
with slight show of charity. The very blackest construction was put
upon her "compromisa." It was worse even than a _mesalliance_. The
"society" were horrified at her conduct in stooping to intimacy with a
"lepero;" while even the lepero class, itself fanatically religious,
condemned her for her association with "un asesino," but, still worse, a
"heretico!"

The excitement produced by this new affair was great indeed,--a perfect
panic. The cibolero's head rose in value, like the funds. The
magistrates and principal men assembled in the Casa de Cabildo. A new
proclamation was drawn out. A larger sum was offered for the capture of
Carlos, and the document was rendered still stronger by a declaration of
severe punishment to all who should give him food or protection. If
captured beneath the roof of any citizen who had voluntarily sheltered
him, the latter was to suffer full confiscation of his property, besides
such further punishment as might be fixed upon.

The Church was not silent. The padres promised excommunication and the
wrath of Heaven against those who would stay justice from the heretic
murderer!

These were terrible terms for the outlaw! Fortunately for him, he knew
how to live without a roof over his head. He could maintain existence
where his enemies would have starved, and where they were unable to
follow him,--on the wide desert plain, or in the rocky ravines of the
mountains. Had he depended for food or shelter on his fellow-citizens
of the settlement he would soon have met with betrayal and denouncement.
But the cibolero was as independent of such a necessity as the wild
savage of the prairies. He could sleep on the grassy sward or the naked
rock, he could draw sustenance even from the arid surface of the Llano
Estacado, and there he could bid defiance to a whole army of pursuers.

At the council Don Ambrosio was not present. Grief and rage kept him
within doors. A stormy scene had been enacted between him and his
daughter. Henceforth she was to be strictly guarded--to be kept a
prisoner in her father's house--to be taught repentance by the exercise
of penance.

To describe the feelings of Roblado and the Comandante would be
impossible. These gentlemen were well-nigh