and keeps it up
for days, sometimes weeks. And he may be at that now, which would
account for none of them having been to see us lately. If that's the
reason, the silly old fellow might just take it into his head to detain
father and Francesca. Not from any ill will, but only some crazy notion
of his own. Now, isn't that likely enough?"

"But Gaspar? they wouldn't detain him. Nor would he dare stay, after
what I said to him at parting."

It is the senora who speaks, for Cypriano is now all absorbed in
thoughts which fearfully afflict him.

"Gaspar couldn't help himself, mamma, any more than father or sister.
If the chief be as I've said--intoxicated--all the other Indians will be
the same, sure enough; and Gaspar would have to stay with them, if they
wished it. Now, it's my opinion they have wished it, and are keeping
all of them there for the night. No doubt, kindly entertaining them, in
their own rough way, however much father and Francesca may dislike it,
and Gaspar growl at it. But it'll be all right. So cheer up, _madre
mia_! We'll see them home in the morning--by breakfast time, or before
it."

Alas! Ludwig's forecast proves a failure; as his mother too surely
expected it would. Morning comes, but with it no word of the missing
ones. Nor is any sign seen of them by anxious eyes, that from earliest
daybreak have been scanning the plain, which stretches away in front of
the estancia. Nothing moves over it but the wild creatures, its
denizens; while above it, on widely extended wings, soars a flock of
black vultures--ill omen in that moment of doubt and fear.

And so passes the hour of breakfast, with other hours, on till it is
mid-day, but still no human being appears upon the plain. 'Tis only
later, when the sun began to throw elongated shadows, that one is seen
there, upon horseback, and going in a gallop; but he is heading _from_
the house, and not _toward_ it. For the rider is Cypriano himself, who,
no longer able to bear the torturing suspense, has torn himself away
from aunt and cousin, to go in search of his uncle and another cousin--
the last dearer than all.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

A TEDIOUS JOURNEY.

It yet wants full two hours of sunset, as the gaucho and his companion
come within sight of the estancia. Still, so distant, however, that the
house appears not bigger than a dove-cot--a mere fleck of yellow, the
colour of the _cana brava_, of which its walls are constructed--half
hi