"_Mira_! Roblado!" muttered he to his subordinate and fellow-villain.
"See yonder! _Santisima Virgen_! Saint Guadalupe! Look, man! Venus,
as I'm a Christian and a soldier! In the name of all the saints, what
sky has she fallen from?"

"For _Dios_! I never saw her before," replied the captain; "she must be
the sister of this fellow: yes--hear them! they address each other as
brother and sister! She _is_ pretty!"

"_Ay de mi_!" sighed the Comandante. "What a godsend! I was growing
dull--very dull of this monotonous frontier life. With this new
excitement, perhaps, I may kill another month. Will she last me that
long, think you?"

"Scarcely--if she come and go as easily as the rest. What! already
tired of Inez?"

"Poh! poh! loved me too much; and that I can't bear. I would rather too
little if anything."

"Perhaps this blonde may please you better in that respect. But, see!
they are off!"

As Roblado spoke, Carlos and his sister had moved forward to the carreta
which held their aged mother, and were soon in conversation with her.

The Comandante and his captain, as well as a large number of the
spectators, followed, and crowded around to listen.

"She wants to persuade me against it, mother," Carlos was heard to say.
He had already communicated his design. "Without _your_ consent, I will
not. But hear me, dear mother; I have half pledged myself, and I wish
to make good my pledge. It is a _point of honour_, mother."

The last phrase was spoken loudly and emphatically in the ear of the old
woman, who appeared to be a little deaf.

"Who wants to dissuade you?" she asked, raising her head, and glancing
upon the circle of faces. "Who?"

"Rosita, mother."

"Let Rosita to her loom, and weave rebosos--that's what she's fit for.
You, my son, can do great things--deeds, ay, deeds; else have you not in
your veins the blood of your father. _He_ did deeds--_he_--ha! ha! ha!"

The strange laugh caused the spectators to start, accompanied, as it
was, with the wild look of her who uttered it.

"Go!" cried she, tossing back her long flax-coloured locks, and waving
her arms in the air--"go, Carlos the cibolero, and show the tawny
cowards--slaves that they are--what a free American can do. To the
cliff! to the cliff!"

As she uttered the awful command, she sank back into the carreta, and
relapsed into her former silence.

Carlos interrogated her no further. The expressions she had let slip
had ren