be
the one calling for keenest vigilance, Caspar volunteers for the first
turn of guard; and the other two wrapping their ponchos around them, and
resting their heads upon their _recados_, with a mutual _Buenas noches_!
become silent, if not asleep.

CHAPTER FORTY SIX.

A DEAD MAN IDENTIFIED.

Whether his young companions be sleeping or awake, the gaucho does not
stay by their side; but, almost as soon as seeing them disposed along
the earth, slips out from under the fig-tree, and facing towards the
central part of the cemetery, walks off in that direction. His object
is to revisit the scaffold lately left by them, and make a more detailed
examination of it. Not that he cares aught about the structure itself.
It is not the first time for him to have seen similar burying-places of
the Chaco Indians, and he knows as much about them as he cares to know.
Nor is his object, in returning to this particular one, of a very
definite character; but rather because a vague idea or instinct has come
into his mind which prompts him to the act--a sort of presentiment that
he may there see something to throw light on much of what has been all
along mystifying him. To go thither will in no way interfere with his
duties as a sentinel, since he can perform these equally well or better
by moving about. Besides, it will help to beguile the time, as also
make him familiar with the ground they have got upon--a familiarity that
may hereafter prove of service to them. As already stated, he had
observed that the scaffold is of recent erection, telling that the man
or woman laid upon it cannot have been very long dead. He had,
moreover, noticed, while attaching his bridle to one of the uprights,
that a series of notches was cut in the post, evidently to facilitate
ascent. In all likelihood, the surviving relatives of the deceased are
in the habit of coming thither at periodical intervals, to adorn the
tomb with flowers or other tokens of affectionate memory; perhaps bring
votive offerings to the spirit which presides over that consecrated
spot. But whatever the purpose of the notches, the gaucho knows they
will enable him to climb up with ease, and see what rests upon the
platform.

Approaching the catafalque with silent tread, he stands for a time
gazing at it without making any movement to mount up. Not from
curiosity does he so regard it; but something akin to awe has stolen
over his spirit, and he almost fears further to in