two scoundrels in council.

simultaneous with the scene in the square marquee a dialogue is taking place within the conical tent, the speakers being uraga and roblez.

the colonel is reclining on a bearskin, spread over the thick sward of grass, which forms a soft couch underneath. the lieutenant sits on a camp-stool beside.

both are smoking; while from a canteen and two cups, resting upon the top of a bullock trunk, comes a perfume which tells they have also been indulging in a drink.

uraga is thoughtful and silent; roblez patiently waiting for him to speak. the adjutant has but late entered the tent and delivered his report about the pitching of the camp, the arrangements of which he has been superintending.

“you’ve stationed a look-out as i directed?” the colonel inquires, after a long silence.

“i have.”

“i hope you’ve placed him so that he can command a good view of the valley below?”

“he’s on a spur of the cliff, and can see full five miles down stream. may i ask, colonel, whom we may expect to come that way? not pursuers, i take it?”

uraga does not make immediate reply. there is evidently something in his thoughts he hesitates to communicate to his subordinate. the answer he at length vouchsafes is evasive.

“whom may we expect? you forget those fellows left behind on the llano. the corporal and two men, whether they’ve found the indian or not, will make all haste after us. fear of falling in with some party of apaches will stimulate their speed. i wonder why they haven’t got up long ago. something strange about that.”

“no doubt the storm has detained them.”

“do you think it’s been that, ayadante?”

“i can’t think of anything else, colonel. anyhow, they wouldn’t be likely to come here, but go on straight to albuquerque. the corporal is a skilled rastrero, and, reaching the place where the troop separated, he’d be pretty sure to follow the trail of the larger party. all the more from his knowing it the safer one, so far as savages are concerned.”

“i hope he has done so. we don’t want him here.”

saying this, uraga resumes his thoughtful attitude and silently puffs away at his cigar, apparently watching the smoke as it curls up and spreads against the canvas.

roblez, who appeared anxious about something, after a time again essays speech. he puts the interrogatory,—

“how long are we to remain here?”

“that will depend on—”

uraga does not complete the response—at least not till after taking several whiffs at his weed.

“on what?” asks the impatient subordinate.

“many matters—circumstances, events, coincidences.”

“may i know what they are. you promised to tell me, colonel.”

“i did—in time. it has not yet come. one thing i may now make known. when we leave this camping-place we shall take no prisoners along with us.”

“you intend setting them free?” the question is asked, not with any idea that this is uraga’s design, but to draw out the explanation.

“free of all cares in this world, whatever may be their troubles in the next.”

“they are to die, then?”

“they are to die.”

“you mean only the men—don valerian and the doctor?”

“what a ruffian you are, roblez! by your question you must take me for the same—a sanguinary savage. i’m not so bloodthirsty as to think of killing women, much less one so sweet as the senorita miranda. men don’t desire the deaths of their own wives—at least, not till after the honeymoon. the dona adela is to be mine—shall, and must!”

“i am aware that is your wish, and as things stand you have a fair chance of obtaining it. you can have her without spilling her brother’s blood. excuse me, colonel, but i can see no reason why he should not be let live, at least till we take him to santa fé, there a prison will hold him safe, and a court-martial can be called, which, with the spirit just now abroad, will condemn him in one day, and execute him on the morning of the next. that would keep you clear from all suspicion of over-haste, which may attach to you if you take the thing into your own hands here.”

“bah! you talk like a child, teniente! the security of a prison in new mexico, or the chances of a prisoner being condemned, far less executed, are things merely imaginary. all the more now that there’s some probability of a change in the political sky. clouds have shown themselves on the horizon at the capital—talk that our good friend gameleg is going out again. before the storm comes i for one intend making myself secure. as the husband of adela miranda, owning all that belongs to her brother, and which will be hers after his death, i shall care but little who presides in the halls of the moctezumas. priest-party or patriots, ’twill be all the same to me.”

“why not become her husband and let the brother live?”

“why? because that cannot be.”

“i don’t see any reason against it. both are in your power. you may easily make terms.”

uraga, impressed with the observation, remains for a while silent, considering. to aid reflection he smokes harder than ever.

resuming speech, he asks,—

“how do you counsel?”

“as i’ve said, colonel. make terms with miranda. knowing his life to be in your hands, he will listen to reason. extract from him a promise—an oath, if need be—that he will consent to his sister becoming your wife; at the same time settling a portion of his property on the newly married pair. it’s big enough to afford all of you a handsome income. that’s what i would do.”

“he might promise you here. what security against breaking his word when we get to albuquerque?”

“no need waiting for albuquerque to give him the chance. you seem to forget that there are churches between, and priests not over-scrupulous. for instance, the cure of anton chico, and his reverence who saves souls in the pueblita of la mora. either one will make man and wife of you and the senorita adela without asking question beyond whether you can produce coin sufficient to pay the marriage fees. disbursing freely, you may ensure the ceremonial in spite of all protest, if any should arise. there can be none.”

uraga lights a fresh cigar, and continues smoking, reflecting. the counsel of his subaltern has made an impression on him—put the thing in a new light. after all, what harm in letting miranda live? enough of revenge compelling him to consent that his sister shall be the wife of one she has scornfully rejected. if he refuse—if both do so—what then?

the interrogatory is addressed to roblez.

“your position,” answers the adjutant, “will be no worse than now. you can still carry out the design you’ve hinted at without doing me the honour to entrust it to me. certainly no harm can arise from trying my plan first. in ten minutes you may ascertain the result.”

“i shall try it,” exclaims uraga, springing to his feet and facing towards the entrance of the tent. “you’re right, roblez. it’s a second string to the bow i had a thought about. if it snap, let it. but if it do, before long—aye, before to-morrow’s sun shines into our camp—the proud beauty may find herself brotherless, her sole chance of protection being the arms of gil uraga.”

saying this, he pitches away the stump of his cigar, and strides forth from the tent, determined to extract from adela miranda a promise of betrothal, or in lieu of it decree her brother’s death.