t may arise.

"No, I don't," he rejoins, holding the string up before her eyes, and
shaking it till the teeth rattle. "There it is; but withal, I can't
allow her, the paleface, to go with you. It might be as much as my life
is worth."

"But what is your life worth without liberty?"

It is not Nacena who puts this question, but the paleface herself;
speaking to him in her native tongue, as his. He gives a sudden start
on hearing it, and regards the young girl with a stare of astonishment,
rubbing his eyes as though just awakened from a long-continued sleep.

"Ah--eh!" he exclaims, excitedly. "What's that? Liberty, did you say?
Liberty? Mine's gone long ago. I'm but a poor slave--Shebotha's slave.
I can never be free again; no, _never_!"

"You may be free now--this very moment--if you wish it."

"If I wish it! Ha, ha, ha! That's a good joke! If I wish it! Only
show me the way, and let Mam Shebotha go to--"

"Never mind Mam Shebotha. Listen to me, who am of the same race and
people as yourself. There are some of them now near, who have come to
take me home to my friends. You must have friends too, whom you left
long ago. Why should you not go back to them?"

"_Carramba_!" he cries out, as if the sound of his native tongue had
brought back to remembrance one of its most common exclamations, and
along with it a desire to return to the place where he last heard it
spoken. "Why should I not? If you say you'll take me, I will."

"Ah! I'll not only take you, but be glad of your company. _Nos
vamos_!"

It is still Francesca who speaks, and at the last words, pronounced in a
tone of half encouragement, half command, she stretches out her hand,
and taking hold of that of her late jailer, leads him off, as a rough
pampas colt just tamed and gentled.

Nacena, astonished at the spirit shown by the little paleface, and
delighted with a success which may prove advantageous to herself, says
not a word; but steps off forward in front of the other two--making mute
pantomimic signs to guide them in the direction they are to go.

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE.

AN UNLUCKY TUMBLE.

Soon as Nacena had started on return to the town, the gaucho and his
companions commence making preparations to descend from the hill. Not
by the road leading down to the _tolderia_, but the path by which they
came up. For before her parting with them the Indian girl and Gaspar
had held further speech; she imparting to him additional