ether, I may conclude to keep you a year; for the
longer you remain away from your uncle, the more he will want to see
you, and the bigger will be the pile he will give to have you brought
back. What is your opinion of that plan? Don't you think it a capital
way to raise the wind?"

Frank listened to this speech in utter bewilderment. Cruel and reckless
as he knew Pierre to be, he had never for a moment imagined that he
could be guilty of such an enormous crime as this. He did not know what
reply to make--there was nothing he could say or do. Entreaties and
resistance were alike useless.

"Well, what are you thinking about?" inquired the Ranchero.

"I was wondering if a greater villain than yourself ever lived," replied
Frank.

"We will talk about that as we go along," said Pierre. "Get off that
horse, now; I am going to send him home."

Frank, seeing no way of escape, was about to obey this order, when the
truant, Marmion, came in sight, trotting leisurely up the path, carrying
in his mouth the rabbit, which he had succeeded in gnawing out of the
log. He stopped short on discovering Pierre, dropped his game, and
gathered himself for a spring.

"Take him, Marmion!" yelled Frank, as he straightened himself up in his
saddle. "If it is all the same to you, Mr. Pierre, I'll not go to the
mountains this evening."

The Ranchero did not wait to receive the dog. He was an arrant coward,
and, more than that, he stood as much in fear of Marmion as if he had
been a bear or panther. Uttering a cry of terror, he dropped the bridle,
and, with one bound, disappeared in the bushes. Marmion followed close
at his heels, encouraged by terrific yells from his master, who, now
that his dog was neither bound nor muzzled, looked upon the capture of
the robber as a thing beyond a doubt. There was a loud crashing and
snapping in the bushes, as the pursuer and pursued sped on their way,
and presently another loud yell of terror, mingled with an angry growl,
told Frank that the dog had come up with Pierre.

"He is caught at last," thought our hero; "how shall I get him home?
that's the question. How desperately he fights," he added, as the
commotion in the bushes increased, and the yells and growls grew louder.
"But he'll find it's no use, for he can't whip that dog, if he has got a
knife. Now, I ought to have a rope. I'll ride up the path, and see if I
can find Pierre's horse; and, if I can, I'll take his lasso and tie the
rascal hand