who
dreaded to stand upon the brow of that fearful ledge and look below.

The cibolero sat upon his horse, on its very edge, as calm as if he had
been on the banks of the zequia, and directed the marking of the line.
His horse showed no symptoms of nervousness. It was evident he was
well-trained to such situations. Now and then he stretched out his
neck, gazed down into the valley, and, recognising some of his kind
below, uttered a shrill neigh. Carlos purposely kept him on the cliff,
in order to accustom him to it before making the terrible trial.

The line was soon traced, less than two lengths of the horse from the
last grass on the turf. Vizcarra and Roblado would have insisted upon
short measure; but their proposal to curtail it was received with
murmurs of disapprobation and mutterings of "Shame!"

What did these men want? Though not evident to the crowd, they
certainly desired the death of the cibolero. Both had their reasons.
Both hated the man. The cause or causes of their hatred were of late
growth,--with Roblado still later than his Comandante. He had observed
something within the hour that had rendered him furious. He had
observed the waving of that white kerchief; and as he stood by the stand
he had seen to whom the "adios" was addressed. It had filled him with
astonishment and indignation; and his language to Carlos had assumed a
bullying and brutal tone.

Horrible as such a supposition may seem, both he and Vizcarra would have
rejoiced to see the cibolero tumble over the bluff. Horrible indeed it
seems; but such were the men, and the place, and the times, that there
is nothing improbable in it. On the contrary, cases of equal
barbarity--wishes and _acts_ still more inhuman--are by no means rare
under the skies of "Nuevo Mexico."

The young ranchero, who had accompanied the party to the upper plain,
insisted upon fair play. Though but a ranchero, he was classed among
the "ricos," and, being a fellow of spirit, urged Carlos' rights, even
in the face of the moustached and scowling militarios.

"Here, Carlos!" cried he, while the arrangements were progressing; "I
see you are bent on this madness; and since I cannot turn you from it, I
shall not embarrass you. But you sha'n't risk yourself for such a
trifle. My purse! bet what sum you will."

As he said this, he held out a purse to the cibolero, which, from its
bulk, evidently contained a large, amount.

Carlos regarded the purse for a