About a month after the events we have described in the first part of this veracious history, two horsemen, well mounted, and carefully enwrapped in their cloaks, entered at a smart trot the town of Santa Fe between three and four o'clock in the afternoon.

Santa Fe, the capital of New Mexico, is a pretty town, built in the midst of a laughing and fertile plain. One of its sides occupies the angle formed by a small stream: it is surrounded by the adobe walls of the houses by which it is bordered. The entrance of each street is closed by stakes in the form of palisades; and like the majority of towns in Spanish America, the houses, built only one story high in consequence of the earthquakes, are covered with terraces of well-beaten earth, called azoteas, which are a sufficient protection in this glorious climate, where the sky is constantly pure.

In the time of the Castilian rule Santa Fe enjoyed a certain importance, owing to its strategic position, which allowed an easy defence against the incursions of the Indians; but since the emancipation of Mexico this city, like all the other centres of population in his unhappy country, has seen its splendour vanish forever, and despite the fertility of its soil and the magnificence of its climate, it has entered into such a state of decadence that the day is at hand when it will be only an uninhabited ruin. In a word, this city, which fifty years back contained more than ten thousand inhabitants, has now scarcely three thousand, eaten up by fevers and the utmost wretchedness.

Still during the last few weeks Santa Fe had appeared to emerge, as if by magic from the lethargy into which it is ordinarily plunged; a certain degree of animation prevailed in its usually deserted streets; in short, a new life circulated in the veins of this population, to whom, however, all must appear a matter of indifference. The fact was that an event of immense importance had recently taken place in this town. The two leaders of the conspiracy lately attempted had been transferred to safe keeping at Santa Fe.

The Mexicans, ordinarily so slow when justice has to be dealt, are the most expeditious people in the world when a conspiracy has to be punished. Don Miguel and General Ibañez had not pined long in prison. A court martial, hurriedly convened, had assembled under the presidency of the governor, and the two conspirators were unanimously condemned to be shot.

The hacendero, through his name and his position, and especially on account of his fortune, had numerous partisans in the province: hence the announcement of the verdict had caused a profound stupor, which almost immediately changed into anger, among the rich land owners and the Indians of New Mexico. A dull agitation prevailed throughout the country; and the governor, who felt too weak to hold head against the storm that threatened him, and regretted that he had carried matters so far, was temporising, and trying to evade the peril of his position until a regiment of dragoons he had asked of the Government arrived, and gave strength to the law. The condemned men, whom the governor had not yet dared to place in capilla, were still provisionally detained in the prison.

The two men of whom we have spoken, rode without stopping through the streets of the town, deserted at this hour, when everybody is at home enjoying his siesta, and proceeded toward an unpretending rancho, built on the banks of the stream, at the opposite end of the town from that by which they entered.

"Well," one of the horsemen said, addressing his comrade, "was I not right? You see everyone is asleep: there is nobody to watch us. We have arrived at a capital moment."

"Bah!" the other answered in a rough voice, "Do you believe that? In towns there is always somebody watching to see what does not concern him, and report it after his fashion."

"That is possible," the first said, shrugging his shoulders disdainfully. "I care about it as little as I do for a stringhalt horse."

"And I, too," the other said sharply. "Do you imagine that I care more than you do for the gossips? But stay; I fancy we have reached the rancho of Andrés Garote. This must be the filthy tenement, unless I am mistaken."

"It is the house. I only hope the scamp has not forgotten, the meeting I gave him. Wait a minute, señor padre; I will give the agreed-on signal."

"It is not worth while, Red Cedar. You know that I am always at your excellency's orders when you may please to give them," a mocking voice said from inside the rancho, the door of which immediately opened to give admission to the newcomers, and allowed a glimpse of the tall figure and intelligent face of Andrés Garote himself.

"Ave Maria purísima!" the travellers said, as they dismounted and entered the rancho.

"Sin pecado concebida!" Andrés replied, as he took the bridles of the horses and led them to the corral, where he unsaddled them and gave each a truss of alfalfa.

The travellers, fatigued by a long journey, sat down on butacas arranged against the wall, and awaited the host's return, while wiping their dank foreheads and twisting a maize cigarette between their fingers. The room in which they were had nothing extremely attractive about it. It was a large chamber with two windows, protected by iron bars, the greasy panes allowing but a doubtful light to pass. The naked and smoky walls were covered with clumsily-painted pictures, representing various holy objects. The furniture only consisted of three or four halting tables, the same number of benches, and a few butacas, the torn and harsh leather of which evinced lengthened use. As for the floor, it was merely of beaten earth, but rendered uneven by the mud incessantly brought in upon the feet of visitors. A door carefully closed led to an inner room, in which the ranchero slept. Another door was opposite to it, and through this Andrés speedily entered after giving the horses their provender.

"I did not expect you yet," he said as he entered; "but you are welcome. Is there anything new?"

"My faith, I know nothing but the affair that brings us. It is rather serious, I fancy, and prevents us attending to anything else," Red Cedar remarked.

"Caspita! what vivacity, compadre!" Andrés exclaimed. "But, before talking, I hope you will take some refreshment at any rate. There is nothing like a cup of mezcal or pulque to clear the brain."

"Not to forget," Fray Ambrosio said, "that it is infernally hot, and my tongue is glued to my palate, as I have swallowed so much dust."

"Cuerpo de Dios!" Andrés said as he went to look for a bottle among several others arranged on a sort of bar, and placed it before the travellers. "Pay attention to that, señor padre; for it is serious, and you run a risk of death, caray!"

"Give me the remedy, then, chatterer," the monk replied as he held out his glass.

The mezcal, liberally poured out, was swallowed at a draught by the three men, who put back their glasses on the table with a "hum" of satisfaction, and that clinking of the tongue peculiar to topers when they are swallowing anything that tickles the throat.

"And now suppose we talk seriously," Red Cedar said.

"At your orders, señores caballeros," Andrés replied. "Still, if you prefer a hand at monte, you know that I have cards at your service."

"Presently, señor Andrés, presently. Everything will have its turn. Let us first settle our little business," Fray Ambrosio judiciously observed.

Andrés Garote bowed his head in resignation, while thrusting back into his pocket the pack of cards he had already half drawn out. The three men made themselves as comfortable as they could, and Red Cedar, after casting a suspicious glance around him, at length took the word.

"You know, caballeros," he said, "how, when we thought we had nothing to do but proceed straight to Apacheria, the sudden desertion of nearly all our gambusinos checked us. The position was most critical for us, and the abduction of Doña Clara compelled us to take the utmost precautions."

"That is true," Andrés Garote observed with an air of conviction.

"Although certain influential persons protect us under the rose," Red Cedar continued, "we are compelled to keep in the shade as far as we can. I therefore sought to remedy the gravest points in the business. In the first place, the girl was hidden in an inaccessible retreat, and then I began looking for comrades to take the place of those who abandoned us so suddenly."

"Well?" the two men interrupted him sharply.

"At this moment," Red Cedar calmly continued, "when the placers of California call away all the men belonging to the profession, it was certainly no easy task to collect one hundred men of the sort we want, the more so as we shall have to fight the Indios Bravos in our expedition. I did not care to enlist novices, who at the sight of the first Apache or Comanche savages, would bolt in terror, and leave us in the lurch on the prairies. What I wanted were resolute men, whom no fatigue would disgust, and who, once attached to our enterprise, would follow it out to the end. I have, therefore, during the past month, been running about to all the frontier presidios; and the devil has come to my help tolerably well, for the evil is now repaired, and the band complete."

"I hope, Red Cedar," Fray Ambrosio asked, "that you have not spoken about the placer to your men?"

"Do you take me for a fool! No, padre," the squatter answered sharply, "no, no. A hundred thousand reasons urge us to be prudent, and keep the expedition secret. In the first place, I do not wish to make the fortune of the Government while making our own. An indiscretion would ruin us now, when the whole world only dreams of mines and placers, and Europe sends us a mob of lean and starving vagabonds, greedy to grow fat at our expense."

"Famously reasoned," said Andrés.

"No, no, trust to me. I have assembled the finest collection of picaros ever brought together for an expedition, all food for the gallows, ruined by monte, who do not care for hard blows, and on whom I can fully count, while being very careful not to drop a word that can enlighten them as to the spot whither we propose leading them; for, in that case, I know as well as you do that they would abandon us without the slightest scruples, or, as is even more probable, assassinate us to gain possession of the immense treasures we covet."

"Nothing can be more just," Fray Ambrosio answered. "I am quite of your opinion, Red Cedar. Now what have you resolved on?"

"We have not an instant to lose," the squatter continued. "This very evening, or tomorrow at the latest, we must set out. Who knows whether we have not already delayed our start too long? Perhaps one of those European vagabonds may have discovered our placer, for those scoundrels have a peculiar scent for gold."

Fray Ambrosio cast a suspicious glance at his partner.

"Hum!" he muttered, "that would be very unlucky, for hitherto the business has been well managed."

"For that reason," Red Cedar hastened to add, "I only suggest a doubt – nothing more."

"Come, Red Cedar," the monk said, "you have yourself narrated all the embarrassments of our position, and the countless difficulties we shall have to surmount before reaching our object. Why, then, complicate the gravity of our situation still more, and create fresh enemies needlessly?"

"I do not understand you, señor padre. Be good enough to explain yourself more clearly."

"I allude to the young girl you carried off."

"Ah, ah!" Red Cedar said with a grin, "Is that where the shoe pinches you, comrade? I am vexed at it; but I will not answer your question. If I carried off that woman, it was because I had pressing reasons to do so. These reasons still exist; that is all I can tell you. All the better if these explanations are sufficient for you; if not, you must put up with them, for you will get no others."

"Still it appears to me that, regarding the terms on which we stand to each other – "

"What can there be in common between the abduction of Doña Clara and the discovery of a placer in the heart of Apacheria? Come, you are mad, Fray Ambrosio; the mezcal is getting to your head."

"Still – " the monk insisted.

"Enough of that!" Red Cedar shouted as he roughly smote the table with his clenched fist. "I will not hear another word on the subject."

At this moment two smart blows were heard on the carefully-bolted door.

The three men started, and Red Cedar broke off.

"Shall I open?" Andrés asked.

"Yes," Fray Ambrosio answered: "hesitation or refusal might give an alarm. We must foresee everything."

Red Cedar consented with a toss of his head, and the ranchero went with an ill grace toward the door, which was being struck as if about to be beaten in.

CHAPTER II
THE CUCHILLADA

So soon as the door was opened two men appeared on the threshold. The first was Curumilla; the other, wrapped up in a large cloak, and with his broad-brimmed hat drawn over his eyes, entered the room, making the Indian chief a sign to follow him. The latter was evidently a Mexican.

"Santas tardes!" he said as he raised his hand to his hat, but not removing it.

"Dios las de a usted buenas!" the ranchero answered. "What shall I serve to your excellencies?"

"A bottle of mezcal," the stranger said.

The newcomers seated themselves at the end of the room, at a spot which the light reached in such a weakened state that it was almost dark. When they were served each poured out a glass of liquor, which he drank; and leaning his head on his hands, the Mexican appeared plunged in deep thought, not occupying himself the least in the world about the persons near him. Curumilla crossed his arms on his chest, half closed his eyes, and remained motionless.

Still the arrival of these two men, especially the presence of the stranger, had suddenly frozen the eloquence of our three friends. Gloomy and silent, they instinctively felt that the newcomers were enemies, and anxiously waited for what was about to occur. At length Red Cedar, doubtless more impatient than his comrades, and wishful to know at once what he had to expect, rose, filled his glass, and turned toward the strangers.

"Señores caballeros," he said, imitating that exquisite politeness which the Mexicans possess in the highest degree. "I have the honor of drinking to your health."

At this invitation Curumilla remained insensible as a granite statue: his companion slowly raised his head, fixed his eye for a moment on the speaker, and answered in a loud and firm voice, —

"It is needless, señor, for I shall not drink to yours. What I say to you," he added, laying a stress on the words, "your friends can also take for themselves if they think proper."

Fray Ambrosio rose violently.

"What do you say?" he exclaimed in a threatening voice. "Do you mean to insult me?"

"There are people whom a man cannot mean to insult," the stranger continued in a cutting voice. "Remember this, señor padre – I do not wish to have any dealings with you."

"Why so?"

"Because I do not please – that is all. Now, gentlemen, do not trouble yourselves about me, I beg, but continue your conversation: it was most interesting when I arrived. You were speaking, I believe, about an expedition you are preparing: there was a question too, I fancy, when I entered, about a girl your worthy friend, or partner – I do not know which he is – carried off with your assistance. Do not let me disturb you. I should, on the contrary, be delighted to learn what you intend doing with that unhappy creature."

No words could render the feeling of stupor and terror which seized on the three partners at this, crushing revelation of their plans. When they fancied they had completely concealed them by their cunning and skill, to see them thus suddenly unveiled in all their extent by a man whom they did not know, but who knew them, and in consequence could only be an enemy – this terrified them to such a degree that for a moment they fancied they had to do with the spirit of evil. The two Mexicans crossed themselves simultaneously, while the American uttered a hoarse exclamation of rage.

But Red Cedar and Fray Ambrosio were men too hardened in iniquity for any event, however grave in its nature, to crush them for long. The first moment past, they recovered themselves, and amazement gave way to fury. The monk drew from his vaquera boot a knife, and posted himself before the door to prevent egress; while Red Cedar, with frowning brow and a machete in his hand, advanced resolutely toward the table, behind which their bold adversary, standing with folded arms, seemed to defy them by his ironical smile.

"Whoever you may be," Red Cedar said, stopping two paces from his opponent, "chance has made you master of a secret that kills, and you shall die."

"Do you really believe that I owe a knowledge of your secrets to chance?" the other said with a mocking accent.

"Defend yourself," Red Cedar howled furiously, "If you do not wish me to assassinate you; for, con mil diablos! I shall not hesitate, I warn you."

"I know it," the stranger replied quietly. "I shall not be the first person to whom that has happened: the Sierra Madre and El Bolsón de Mapimi have often heard the agonising cries of your victims, when Indians were wanting to fill up your number of scalps."

At this allusion to his frightful trade the squatter felt a livid pallor cover his face, a tremor agitated all his limbs, and he yelled in a choking voice, —

"You lie! I am a hunter."

"Of scalps," the stranger immediately retorted, "unless you have given up that lucrative and honourable profession since your last expedition to the village of the Coras."

"Oh!" the squatter shouted with an indescribable burst of fury, "He is a coward who hides his face while uttering such words."

The stranger shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, and let the folds of his mantle fall sharply.

"Do you recognise me, Red Cedar, since your conscience has not yet whispered my name to you?"

"Oh!" the three men exclaimed in horror, and instinctively recoiling "Don Pablo de Zarate!"

"Yes," the young man continued, "Don Pablo, who has come, Red Cedar, to ask of you an account of his sister, whom you carried off."

Red Cedar was in a state of extraordinary agitation: with eyes dilated by terror, and contracted features, he felt the cold perspiration beading on his temples at this unexpected apparition.

"Ah!" he said in a hollow voice, "Do the dead, then, leave the tomb?"

"Yes," the young man shouted loudly, "they leave their tomb to tear your victims from you. Red Cedar, restore me my sister!"

The squatter leaped like a hyena on the young man, brandishing his machete.

"Dog!" he yelled, "I will kill you a second time."

But his wrist was suddenly seized by a hand of iron, and the bandit tottered back to the wall of the rancho, against which he was forced to lean, lest he should roll on the ground. Curumilla, who had hitherto remained an impassive witness of the scene that took place before him, had thought the moment for interference, had arrived, and had sharply hurled him back. The squatter, with eyes injected with blood, and lips clenched by rage, looked around him with glaring worthy of a wild beast. Fray Ambrosio and the ranchero, held in check by the Indian chief, did not dare to interfere. Don Pablo walked with slow and measured step toward the bandit. When he was ten paces from him he stopped, and looked fixedly at him.

"Red Cedar," he repeated in a calm voice, "give me back my sister."

"Never!" the squatter answered in a voice choked by rage.

In the meanwhile the monk and the ranchero had treacherously approached the young man, watching for the propitious moment to fall on him. The five men assembled in this room offered a strange and sinister scene by the uncertain light that filtered through the windows, as each stood with his hand on his weapon, ready to kill or be killed, and only awaiting the opportunity to rush on his enemy. There was a moment of supreme silence. Assuredly these men were brave. In many circumstances they had seen death under every aspect; and yet their hearts beat as if to burst their breasts, for they knew that the combat about to commence between them was without truce or mercy. At length Don Pablo spoke again.

"Take care, Red Cedar," he said. "I have come to meet you alone and honourably. I have asked you for my sister several times, and you have not answered; so take care."

"I will sell your sister to the Apaches," the squatter howled. "As for you, accursed one, you shall not leave this room alive. May I be eternally condemned if your heart does not serve as a sheath to my knife!"

"The scoundrel is mad!" the young man said contemptuously.

He fell back a pace, and then stopped.

"Listen," he continued. "I will now retire, but we shall meet again; and woe to you then, for I shall be as pitiless to you as you have been to me. Farewell!"

"Oh! you shall not go in that way, my master," replied the squatter, who had regained all his boldness and impudence. "Did I not tell you I would kill you?"

The young man fixed upon him a glance of undefinable expression, and crossed his arms boldly on his chest.

"Try it," he said in a voice rendered harsh by the fury boiling in his heart.

Red Cedar uttered a yell of rage, and bounded on Don Pablo. The latter calmly awaited the attack; but, so soon as the squatter was within reach he suddenly took off his mantle, and threw it over his enemy's head, who, blinded by the folds of the thick garment, rolled about on the ground, unable to free himself from the accursed cloth that held him like a net. With one bound the young man was over the table, and troubling himself no further about Red Cedar, proceeded toward the door.

At this moment Fray Ambrosio rushed upon him, trying to bury his knife in his chest. Feeling not the slightest alarm, Don Pablo seized his assailant's wrist, and with a strength he was far from anticipating, twisted his arm so violently that his fingers opened, and he let the knife fall with a yell of pain. Don Pablo picked it up, and seized the monk by the throat.

"Listen, villain!" he said to him. "I am master of your life. You betrayed my father, who took pity on you, and received you into his house. You dishonour the gown you wear by your connection with criminals, whose ill deeds you share in. I could kill you, and perhaps ought to do so; but it would be robbing the executioner to whom you belong, and cheating the garrote which awaits you. This gown, of which you are unworthy, saves your life; but I will mark you so that you shall never forget me."

And placing the point of the knife on the monk's livid face, he made two gashes in the shape of a cross along the whole length and breadth of his face.

"We shall meet again!" he added in a thundering voice, as he threw the knife away in disgust.

Andrés Garote had not dared to make a move: terror nailed him motionless to the ground beneath the implacable eye of the Indian warrior. Don Pablo and Curumilla then rushed from the room and disappeared, and ere long the hoofs of two horses departing at full speed from the town could be heard clattering over the pavement.

By the aid of the ranchero, Red Cedar presently succeeded in freeing himself from the fold of the cloak that embarrassed him. When the three accomplices found themselves alone again an expression of impotent rage and deadly hatred distorted their faces.

"Oh!" the squatter muttered, grinding his teeth, and raising his fist to heaven, "I will be revenged."

"And I too," said Fray Ambrosio in a hollow voice, as he wiped away the blood that stained his face.

"Hum! I do not care," Andrés Garote said to himself aside. "That family of the Zarates is a fine one; but, caray! it must be confessed that Don Pablo is a rough fellow."

The worthy ranchero was the only one chance had favoured in this meeting by letting him escape safe and sound.