showed the troublesome persons who came to trouble it so inopportunely in its lair, a tongue red as blood, and glistening claws of a remarkable length. It balanced itself clumsily, according to the fashion of its congeners, and its round and dazzled eyes were fixed on the adventurers in a manner that would cause reflection. Fortunately, they were not the men to let themselves be intimidated for long.
"Hum!" said Valentine, surveying the animal, "I was sure of it; there is a young fellow who seems inclined to sup with us."
"My rifle, on the contrary, will make us sup with him," Don Pablo said with a laugh.
"For Heaven's sake do not fire," the hunter said quickly, as he checked the young man who had already shouldered his rifle; "a shot fired at this spot will produce a fearful row: we do not know what sort of people may be prowling around us; so we must not compromise ourselves."
"That is true," Don Pablo remarked; "but what is to be done?"
"That is my business," Valentine replied; "take my torch, and hold yourself in readiness to help me."
Then, resting his rifle against the side of the cave, he went out, while the Mexican remained alone, facing the bear, which, dazzled and perplexed by the light, did not venture to stir. In a few minutes Valentine returned; he had been to fetch his lasso, fastened to the saddle bow.
"Now, stick your torches in the ground, to be ready for any accident."
Don Pablo obeyed; the hunter carefully prepared the lasso and whirled it round his head, while whistling in a peculiar way.
At this unexpected appeal the bear moved heavily two or three paces forward, but that was its ruin. The lasso started from the hunter's hands, the slipknot fell on the animal's shoulders, and the two men slipped back, tugging at it with all their strength. The poor quadruped, thus strangled and stretching out a tongue a foot long, tottered and fell, striving in vain to remove with its huge paws the unlucky collar that compressed its throat. But the hunters were not conquered by their enemy's tremendous efforts; they redoubled their strength, and did not loose the lasso till the bear had given its last sigh.
"Now," said Valentine, after he had assured himself that Bruin was really dead, "bring the horses in here, Don Pablo, while I cut off our enemy's paws, to roast them in the ashes while we are talking."
When the young man re-entered the grotto, leading the horses, he found Valentine, who had lighted a large fire, busied in flaying the bear, whose paws were gently roasting in the embers, as he had said. Don Pablo gave the horses their food, and then sat down before the fire near Valentine.
"Well," said the latter with a smile, "do you fancy this a comfortable place for a gossip?"
"Yes, it is," the young man carelessly replied, as he rolled between his; fingers a husk cigarette with the dexterity apparently peculiar to the Spanish race; "we are all right here: I am ready for your explanation, my friend."
"I will give it you," the hunter said, who had finished skinning the bear, and quietly returned his knife to his boot, after carefully wiping the blade; "how long have you known Red Cedar's hiding place?"
At this point-blank question, which he was far from expecting, the young man started; a feverish flush covered his face, and he did not know what to answer.
"Why – ?" he stammered.
"About a month, I think?" Valentine continued, not appearing to notice his friend's confusion.
"Yes, about," the other replied, not knowing what he said.
"And for a month," Valentine continued, imperturbably, "you have left your father's side each night to go and make love to the daughter of the man who murdered your sister?"
"My friend," Don Pablo said, painfully.
"Would you assert that it is not true?" the hunter went on hastily, as he bent on him a glance which made him look down: "explain yourself, Pablo – I am waiting for your justification. I am curious to know how you will manage to prove to me that you have acted rightly."
The young man, while his friend was speaking, had time to regain, at any rate, a portion, if not all, of his coolness and presence of mind.
"You are severe," he said; "before accusing me, it would be, perhaps, worthwhile to listen to the reasons I have to offer you."
"Stay, my friend." Valentine said, quickly, "let us not turn from the question, but be frank; do not take the trouble to describe your love to me, for I know it as well as you do – I saw it born and grow; still, permit me to tell you certainly I thought that after the assassination of Doña Clara, this love, which had hitherto resisted everything, would die out. It is impossible to love those we despise. Red Cedar's daughter can only appear to you through a blood-stained cloud."
"Don Valentine," the young man exclaimed, in grief, "would you render that angel responsible for the crimes of a villain?"
"I will not discuss with you the famous theory which lays down that faults and crimes are personal; faults may be so, but in desert life the whole family must be responsible for the crimes of its chief; were it not so, no security would be possible for honest people."
"Oh, how can you speak thus!"
"Very good – let us change the ground, as that is disagreeable to you. You possess the noblest and most honourable nature of any man I know, Don Pablo. I presume you never had a thought of making Ellen your mistress?"
"No!" the young man savagely protested.
"Would you make her your wife, then?" Valentine said, with a cutting accent, as he looked him fixedly in the face.
Don Pablo bowed his head in despair.
"I am accursed!" he exclaimed.
"No," Valentine said, as he seized him sharply by the arm, "you are mad. Like all young men, passion sways and overpowers you – you listen to that alone; you despise the voice of reason, and hence commit faults which may speedily become, in spite of yourself, crimes."
"Do not speak thus, my friend."
"You have only reached faults as yet," Valentine said, imperturbably; "but take care."
"Oh, it is you who are mad, my friend, to say such things to me. Believe me, however great my love for Ellen may be, I shall never forget the duties imposed on me by the strange position in which fate has placed me."
"And yet for a month you have known the hiding place of the most implacable enemy of your family, and have kept it a profound secret, in order to satisfy the claims of a passion which can only have a disgraceful result for you! You see us vainly employing all the means in our power to discover the traces of our enemy, and you betray us coldly, deliberately, for the sake of a few love phrases which you find means to exchange daily with a girl, while making us believe that, like ourselves, you are engaged in fruitless researches. What name will you give to your conduct save that of a traitor?"
"Valentine, you insult me, the friendship you have for me does not authorise you to act thus; take care, for patience has its limits."
The hunter interrupted him by a coarse laugh.
"You see it, boy," he said sternly, "already you threaten me."
The young man rolled on the ground in despair.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, "I have suffered enough."
Valentine
