object to being laid out in
that style myself. Only I'd need friends to live after me, and keep the
structure in repair; otherwise the frail thing might some day come
tumbling down, and my poor bones along with it."

At the conclusion of this quaint speech, he gives the rein to his horse,
and moves on among the tombs, making for the opposite side of the
cemetery, the others following in silence. For from the brow of the
hill on its westward side, they expect to look down upon the Indian
town.

"It must be on t'other side," observes the gaucho, as they proceed. "I
remember the old chief saying the _tolderia_ was west of the hill."

When half-way across he again reins up, halting his horse alongside one
of the scaffolds, conspicuous among the rest by its larger size, as also
a certain freshness about the timbers of which it is constructed; some
chips scattered around the supports, where these have been chopped and
barked, telling of recent erection. It is not this, however, has
prompted Gaspar to make stop beside it; but simply that he there sees a
place suitable for the stalling of their horses. There is no need to
take the animals on to the other side, but better leave them there, and
themselves go forward afoot.

Thus reflecting, all three dismount, and attach their horses to the
corner posts of the scaffold, each choosing one for his own. Then, with
cautious steps, they continue to the outer edge of the circle, and
pushing through some trees that skirt it, look to the plain below. Sure
enough, there is the thing they expected to see--an Indian town or
_tolderia_. A large lake lies beyond, on whose tranquil surface the
moon makes a mirror, as if it were glass. But their eyes rest only upon
the town, their ears bent to catch any sound that may come up from it.

It is not long till sounds do ascend, the barking of dogs, with now and
then the lowing of cattle, and neighing of horses; but no human voice,
nothing to tell that the place is inhabited by man. For there is no
smoke from the houses, no lights anywhere, everybody seeming to be
asleep.

Nothing strange in all this; nor do they looking down from the hill
think it so. Instead, things are just as they should be and as Caspar
anticipated they would. For it is now the midnight hour, and since red
men must have rest as well as white ones, the Tovas have all retired to
their beds or hammocks.

So concluding, and satisfied with what they see--reflectin