track, and
would, no doubt, had I not caught it, have found its way back to Saint
Louis; for this is by no means an unfrequent occurrence with animals
that stray off from the caravans. It soon became tame with me, and in a
few days more I had manufactured a bridle and saddle; and, mounting with
my bag of roasted pinons, I rode off on the trail for Santa Fe. In
about a week I reached that place in safety, and continued my journey
southward to the mine.

"My history since that time can have but little interest for any of you.
It is that of a man sorrowing for the loss of all he loved on earth.
But you, Rolfe, you have given me new life in restorer; to me my child,
my Luisa; and every chapter of your history, woven as it is with hers,
will be to me, at least, of the deepest interest. Go on then,--go on!"

With this the miner concluded; and our host, after inviting each of us
to re-fill our cups with wine, and our pipes with tobacco, resumed his
narrative where he had left it off, in consequence of the happy, but
unexpected episode, to which it had led.

CHAPTER NINE.

LOST IN THE DESERT.

"Well, my friends," proceeded our host, "it was a terrible sight to look
upon--those fierce, gaunt wolves--the mad and foaming mastiffs--the dead
mother, and the terrified and screaming child. Of course, the wolves
fled at the approach of myself and Cudjo, and the dogs whimpered with
delight. Well they might, poor brutes! for had we not come to their
aid, they could not have held out much longer against such fearful odds.
Although the battle had not been a long one, and commenced most likely
after we had driven the wolves from the camp, yet the poor mastiffs were
torn and bleeding in many places. As I stooped down to take up the
little Luisa, she still clung close around the neck of her mother,
crying for her `mamma' to awake. I saw that her mamma would never wake
again. She was lifeless and cold. There was an arrow in her breast.
It was plain, that after receiving this wound she had fled into the
thicket--no doubt followed by the faithful dogs--and, favoured by the
darkness, had kept on, until she had fallen and died. The position of
her arms showed that she had breathed her last clasping her child to her
bosom.

"Leaving Cudjo to guard the body, I carried the child back to my own
wagon. Although so lately terrified with the battle of the wolves and
dogs, the little creature cried at being separated from its mother