his master's head had risen in price. The
shallow artifice of the spies around the rancho had long been known to
Carlos. Shallow as it was, it greatly annoyed him, as by these he was
prevented from visiting his mother and sister. Through Antonio,
however, he kept up almost daily communication with them. He might have
been apprehensive in regard to his sister after what had occurred, but
the villain Vizcarra was an invalid, and Carlos rightly judged why
Rosita was permitted to go unmolested. He had little fear for her--at
least for a time--and ere that time expired he should bear her away, far
out of the reach of such danger.

It was for that opportunity he was now waiting. With, all the vigilance
of his foes, he had no fear but that he could _steal_ his own mother and
sister almost at any time. But another was to be the companion of their
flight--another dear as they, and far more closely guarded!

For her only did he risk life daily--for her only did he sit hour after
hour in that lone cave brooding over plans, and forming schemes of
desperate peril.

Kept under lock and key--closely watched from morn to night, and night
till morning--how was she to be rescued from such a situation? This was
the problem upon which his mind now dwelt.

She had given him the assurance of her willingness to go. Oh! why had
he not proposed instant flight? Why did he neglect that golden moment?
Why should either have thought of delay? That delay had been fatal--
might retard their purpose for months, for years--perhaps for ever!

But little cared Carlos for the anger of his enemies--little for the
contempt in which he was held throughout the settlement--she alone was
his care--his constant solicitude. His waking hours were all given to
that one thought--how he would rescue, not himself, but his mistress.

No wonder he looked anxiously for the night--no wonder he rode with
impatient eagerness towards that lone rendezvous on the Pecos.

Night had come again; and, leading his horse down the slope in front of
the cave, he mounted and rode off toward the mouth of the canon. The
dog Cibolo trotted in advance of him.

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR.

The man-hunters had not long to wait. They had anticipated this. There
was a moon which they had also expected. It was a bright moon at
intervals, and then obscured--for minutes at a time--by the passage of
dark clouds over the canopy.

There was no wind, however, and the air was pe