extinguished,
still flickering, faint, and vainly struggling to burn on.

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.

AN ELEVATED GRAVEYARD.

Just as the last glimmer of twilight is taking departure from the plain,
the three who had sought concealment under the roosting-place of macaws,
slip quietly out of the copse, and ride away from it, leaving the noisy
birds, now silent, behind them.

There is yet light enough to enable them to take bearings by the hill,
which, as they have rightly conjectured, rises over the Tovas town; and,
heading direct towards it, after a couple of hours spent in riding at a
brisk pace, they arrive at the rocky steep forming a periphery to its
base. As there is now a clear moonlight, caution dictates their again
getting under cover; which they do by drawing their horses close in to
the adjacent cliff, whose shadow sufficiently conceals them. But it is
not intended to stay long there. At their last halting-place they had
considered everything, and decided upon the steps to be taken; so far as
they can, from what is known to them. If the circumstances change, or
turn out different from what they are expecting, they must be guided in
their action accordingly.

Still in the belief of Naraguana being alive, Ludwig is again of the
opinion that they should push on to the town without further delay. The
place cannot now be far-off; for at the hill's base they have struck a
broad and much-travelled trail denoting the proximity of a settlement.
Cypriano is undecided, but Gaspar, as before, goes strongly against
proceeding directly onward.

"You speak of delay, Senor Ludwig," he says; "but in this case, the old
adage, `More haste less speed,' might be true, as it often is. Besides,
what would we gain by entering their town now? It isn't likely we
should accomplish anything to-night. You forget the hour it is--nigh
unto midnight. And as the custom of most Chaco Indians is early to bed
and early to rise, we'd no doubt find every redskin of them asleep, with
only their dogs to receive us. _Carrai_! A nice reception that would
be! Like as not some scores of half-famished curs to fall upon us--
perhaps drag us out of our saddles. Whereas, in the morning all would
be different, with the people up to protect us from such an assault.
But whether we enter at night, or by day, I still stick to the belief,
that it will be better to do so by stealth; at least, one of us should
first slip in that way, and learn how