ently it glided on. There was
no chinking of bits, no jingling of spurs, no clanking of sabres. Alone
could be heard the dull stroke of the shoeless hoof, or at intervals the
neigh of an impatient steed, suddenly checked by a reproof from his
rider. Silently they passed on--silent as spectres. The full moon
gleaming upon them added to their unearthly appearance!

The watcher trembled where he lay--though he knew they were not
spectres. He knew well what they were, and understood the meaning of
that extended deployment. They were Indian warriors upon the march.
The bright moonlight enabled him to distinguish farther. He saw that
they were all full-grown men--that they were nude to the waist, and
below the thighs--that their breasts and arms were painted--that they
carried nought but their bows, quivers, and spears--in short, that they
were braves _on the war-trail_!

Strangest sight of all to the eyes of the hatero was the leader who rode
at the head of that silent band. He differed from all the rest in
dress, in equipments, in the colour of his skin. _The hatero saw that
he was white_!

Surprised was he at first on observing this, but not for long. This
shepherd was one of the sharpest of his tribe. It was he who had
discovered the remains of the yellow hunter and his companion. He
remembered the events of that time. He reflected; and in a few moments
arrived at the conclusion that the _White Chief_ he now saw could be no
other than Carlos the cibolero! In that conjecture he was right.

The first thought of the hatero had been to save his own life by
remaining quiet. Before the line of warriors had quite passed him,
other thoughts came into his mind. The Indians were on the
_war-trail_!--they were marching direct for the settlement,--they were
headed by Carlos the cibolero!

The history of Carlos the outlaw now came before his mind--he remembered
the whole story; beyond a doubt the cibolero was returning to the
settlement to take vengeance upon his enemies!

Influenced partly by patriotism, and partly by the hope of reward, the
hatero at once resolved to defeat this purpose. He would hasten to the
valley and warn the garrison!

As soon as the line had filed past he rose to his feet, and was about to
start off upon his errand; but he had miscalculated the intelligence of
the white leader. Long before, the flanking scouts had enclosed both
him and his charge, and the next moment he was a captive!