ed, with a party of horsemen
coming quickly up in the distance. As they drew nearer, one appeared to
be a female; and from the plume of feathers in her hair, the doctor
declared that she must be an Indian, as undoubtedly, from his costume,
was her companion.

"An Indian! No, no! that she is not!" exclaimed Don Carlos, springing
to his horse. "It is Donna Norah!"

The idea that such was the case had flashed across my mind; and,
convinced that he was right, I followed his example. In another
instant, breaking from our cover, we were galloping across the plain
towards them, followed by our entire party. They saw us coming, and the
Indian for an instant altered his course, as if to avoid us; but soon
seeing who we were, he and Norah came galloping on. I then recognised
our friend Kanimapo; though, dressed as he was, in all the war-trappings
of a chief, I had certainly not known him at first.

He and Norah were soon in our midst. I need scarcely describe the joy
of the meeting. But there was short time for exchange of greetings.

"Those you see are our foes, from whom we have just escaped," exclaimed
Kanimapo. "They will endeavour to recapture us; but your band, if you
can trust your men, will be sufficient to defeat them should they
venture to attack you."

As he spoke, the men on foot, who were all Indians, drew up on one side
to allow the horsemen to advance--which they did, shouting loudly and
flourishing their weapons. Begging the padre and the doctor to guard
Norah, Carlos and I put our men in order; then, joined by Kanimapo, and
with our lances couched, we dashed on to meet the foe. A swarthy man of
hideous aspect was at their head, whom I recognised as Aqualonga
himself. His men wavered as they saw us coming; and in vain did he
endeavour to cheer them on, galloping forward at headlong speed, as if
resolved to conquer or meet a soldier's death. Some of his men,
inspirited by his example, continued to urge on their steeds; but the
rear-ranks, panic-stricken, wheeled round, and galloped off to save
their lives.

The lance of Don Carlos caught the guerilla chief in the shoulder, and
forced him from his saddle. Most of those who followed him were pierced
through or cut down; the rest sought safety in flight, leaving us
masters of the field, and their famed leader a prisoner in our hands.
Several of our men, leaping to the ground, bound him hand and foot, and
placed him on horseback; but it would have