"I do.--See--there! Is this not strange?"

The speaker pointed to the dog, who, meanwhile, had returned to the spot, and stood whimpering, and showing an evident desire to proceed by the trace newly discovered!

"Very strange," replied Don Juan. "He must have travelled it before!"

"Perhaps so," said Carlos. "But it will not spoil by an hour's keeping.

Let us first see where these valiant troopers have been to. I want to know that before I leave this main path. Let us on, and briskly!"

All spurred their animals into a gentle gallop, the cibolero leading as before. As before, also, his eyes swept the ground on both sides in search of any trail that might diverge from that on which they travelled.

Now and then cross paths appeared, but these were old. No horses had passed recently upon them, and he did not slacken his pace to examine them.

After a twenty minutes' gallop the party halted upon the bank of the Pecos, at the ford. It was plain that the troopers had also halted there, and turned back without crossing! But cattle had crossed two days before--so said the cibolero--and mounted drivers. The tracks of both were visible in the mud. Carlos rode through the shallow water to examine the other side. At a glance he saw that no troops had crossed, but some forty or fifty head of cattle.

After a long and careful examination, not only of the muddy bank, but of the plain above, he beckoned to Don Juan and the rest to ford the stream and join him.

When Don Juan came up, the cibolero said to him, in a tone full of intelligence--

"_Amigo_! you stand a fair chance to recover your cattle."

"Why do you think so?"

"Because their drivers, four in number, have been near this spot not much over twenty-four hours ago. The animals, therefore, cannot be far off."

"But how know you this?"

"Oh, that is plain enough," coolly responded the cibolero. "The men who drove your beasts were mounted on the same horses that made yonder trail." The speaker indicated the trail which he had halted to examine, and continued,--"Very probably we'll find the herd among the spurs of the ceja yonder."

As Carlos said this, he pointed to a number of ragged ridges that from the brow of the Llano Estacado jutted out into the plain. They appeared to be at the distance of some ten miles from the crossing.

"Shall we push on there?" asked Don Juan.

The cibolero did not give an immediate answer. He had evidently not decided yet, and was debating in his own mind what course to pursue.

"Yes," he replied, at length, in a solemn and deliberate voice. "It is better to be sure. With all my terrible suspicions, I may be wrong.

_She_ may be wrong. _The two trails may yet come together_."

The latter part of this was spoken in soliloquy, and, though it reached the ears of Don Juan, he did not comprehend its meaning. He was about to ask his companion for an explanation, when the latter, suddenly collecting his energies, struck the spurs into his horse, and, calling to them to follow, galloped off upon the cattle-track.

After a run of ten miles, which was made in less than an hour, the party entered a large ravine or point of the plain that protruded, like a deep bay, into the mountain-like side of the high steppe. As they entered this, a singular spectacle came under their eyes. The ravine, near its bottom, was covered with zopilotes, or black vultures. Hundreds of them were perched upon the rocks, or wheeling overhead in the air; and hundreds of others hopped about upon the plain, flapping their broad wings as if in full enjoyment. The coyote, the larger wolf, and the grizzly bear, were seen moving over the ground, or quarrelling with each other, though they need not have quarrelled--the repast was plenteous for all. Between forty and fifty carcases were strewed over the ground, which Don Juan and his vaqueros as they drew near recognised as the carcases of his own cattle.

"I told you so, Don Juan," said Carlos, in a voice now husky with emotion; "but I did not expect this. What a deep-laid plan! They might have strayed back! and that--oh! horrible villain! My mother was right--_it is he! it is he_!"

"Who, Carlos! What mean you?" inquired Don Juan, wondering at these strange and incongruous phrases.

"Ask me not now, Don Juan! Presently I shall tell you all--presently, but not now; my brain's too hot--my heart is burning: presently-- presently. The mystery is past--I know all--I had suspicion from the first--I saw him at the fiesta--I saw his bad ruffian gaze bent upon her. Oh, despot! I'll tear your heart out! Come, Don Juan!--Antonio-- comrades!--After me on the trail! It's easily followed. _I know where it will lead_--well I know.--On!"

And driving the spur into the flanks of his horse, the cibolero galloped off in the direction of the crossing.

The wondering troop--Don Juan among the rest--set their animals in motion, and galloped after.

There was no halt made at the ford. Carlos dashed his horse through the water, and the rest imitated his example. There was no halt either on arriving at the trace that led northward. The dog scampered along it, yelping at intervals; and the troop kept close after his heels.

They had not followed it quite a mile when it suddenly turned at right angles, and _took the direction of the town_!

Don Juan and the rest expressed surprise, but there was nothing in all this to surprise the cibolero. _He_ was expecting that. The expression on his face was not that of astonishment. It was far different--far more terrible to behold!

His eyes were sunk in their sockets and gleaming with a lurid light, as if fire was burning within them. His teeth were firmly set--his lips white and tightly drawn, as if he was meditating, or had already made, some desperate resolve. He scarce looked at the tracks, he needed their guidance no longer. _He knew there he was going_!

The trail crossed a muddy arroyo. The dog sweltered through, and the red clay adhered to his shaggy coat. It corresponded with that with which he had been already besmeared!

Don Juan noticed the circumstance, and pointed it out.

"He has been here before!" said he.

"I know it," replied Carlos; "I know it all--all. There is no mystery now. Patience, amigo! You shall know all, but now let me _think_. I have no time for aught else."

The trail still led in the direction of the town. It did not re-enter the valley, but passed over a sloping country to the upper plain, and then ran nearly parallel with the bluffs.

"Master!" said Antonio, riding up by the side of Carlos, "these are not the tracks of Indian horses, unless they have stolen them. Two of them are _troop_ horses. I know the _berradura_ well. They are _officers'

horses_, too--I can tell that from the shoeing."

The cibolero showed no signs of being astonished by this information, nor made he reply. He seemed engrossed with his thoughts.

Antonio, thinking he had not been heard or understood, repeated what he had said.

"Good Antonio!" said the cibolero, turning his eyes on his follower, "do you think me blind or stupid?"

This was not said angrily. Antonio understood its meaning, and fell back among his companions.

On moved the trackers--now at a gallop, now more slowly, for their animals were by this time somewhat jaded. On they moved, still keeping the trail, and still heading straight for the town!

At length they reached a point where a road from the upper plain led by a zigzag path to the valley below. It was the same by which Carlos had ascended to perform his great feat on the day of the fiesta. At the top of the descent Carlos ordered the party to halt, and with Don Juan rode forward to the edge of the projecting cliff--at the very spot where he had exhibited his skill--the cliff of _Nina Perdida_.

Both drew up when near the edge. They commanded a full view of the valley and the town.

"Do you see that building?" inquired the cibolero, pointing to the detached pile which lay between them and the town.

"The Presidio?"

"The Presidio."

"Yes--what of it?"

"_She is there_!"