trinkets.

Thwarted in her infernal schemes, stung to fury by their failure,
Shebotha goes panting up the hill; but, despite her hard breathing,
without stopping to take breath. Nor rests she on reaching the summit,
but glides on across the Cemetery, finding her way through the wooden
structures as one who knows every scaffold there, and whose bones are
mouldering upon it.

It is not from fear of being followed that she is now so hastening her
steps. She knows that they from whom she has escaped will not return
thither. For although hindered from hearing their conversation with
Nacena, and so becoming acquainted with their plans, if not fully
comprehending, she at least surmises them. For, having recognised the
gaucho and his companions--all three of them--what purpose could they
have there other than to release the paleface girl she has in her
charge? And from the fact of their having themselves released Nacena--
let her go without further detention than would be required to come to
an understanding--she concludes that this has been come to, and the
Indian girl consented to aid them in their intended rescue. But it will
not be successful if she, Shebotha, can prevent it; and desperately bent
on doing so, she rushes on through the scaffolds, and down the road to
the _tolderia_, as if some danger threatened her from behind.

Arriving by the door of her own hut, she utters an exclamation of
surprise at not there seeing her slave. Still another, after having
called out his name, and received no answer. Her astonishment is
complete and her rage at full height, when, having stepped up to the
threshold of the _toldo_, she sees there is no one inside. The beeswax
dip, burnt low and flickering in the socket, faintly lights up the
hideous objects of her craft and calling; but shows no form of human
being!

It is only a mechanical act her entering within the hut, and proceeding
on to its inner apartment; for she is quite as sure it, too, will be
found empty--as she finds it.

Almost instantly returning to the door, she stands gazing out into the
darkness. Were there a light in front, her eyes would be seen to glare
in their sunken sockets with the brightness of fire-balls; while in her
breast is burning the fury of a concentrated vengeance. Once again she
calls out the name of her slave, but as before getting no answer; and
now sure that he, too, has either betrayed her, or been himself
betrayed, she glides sile