of _Sacre!_ and Damn ye! and _Diabolo!_ and _San Jago!_ The six pitch-pans lay smoking and flaring on the ground; the Creole and I had sprung on one side, the negroes had thrown themselves on their faces in great terror, and the two Dons lay beside them, overthrown by the rush of one of the stags. "_Santa Virgen!_" shouted Don Pablo, mightily alarmed and angry; "_Maldito bobo, Senor don Manuel!_" And scrambling to his feet, he proceeded in desperate haste to raise his companion from the ground, on which he lay motionless, and apparently much hurt. "_Maldito sea el dia! Nuestro Libertador! Santa Anna! Ay de mi!_" "_Calla te_--hold your tongue!" said Silveira to his alarmed adherent. On the first appearance of danger, M. Menou had jumped behind a tree, which had afforded a sufficient shelter against the mad rush of the terrified stag; but his cry of warning had come too late for the young Mexican, who had less experience in this kind of chase, and who, standing full in the path of the furious beast, was knocked down, and run over. I pushed Pablo, who was howling and wringing his hands, on one side, and with Menou, proceeded to investigate the hurts which the other Mexican had received. His coat was torn, and both legs were bleeding, having been rent by the deer's antlers. Fortunately the wounds were not deep, or he might have had serious reason to regret the bad aim he had taken. We placed him on his horse, and turned towards home. It was midnight when we reached the house with the wounded man, and the carcass of the deer that Menou and I had shot. The sight of a white figure at the window of the apartment occupied by the Mexican, warned us that his wife was watching for his arrival. At the sound of our horses' feet, she came hurrying down stairs, and out of the house to meet us; and upon beholding her husband, pale, exhausted, and supported on his horse by couple of negroes, she uttered a shrill cry, and with the word "_Perdido!_" sank, almost fainting, on the door steps. "Gracious God!" cried a second female voice at that moment. "A misfortune! Is it Howard?" It was Louise, who at that moment made her appearance in her nightdress, breathless with terror. "_Mon Dieu_, it is only the Mexican! Thank God!" lisped she, in an accent of infinite joy and relief. "Thanks, dearest Louise! for those words," said I; "they make me very happy." I caught her in my arms, and pressed a kiss upon her lips. She struggled from my embrace, and, blushing deeply, hurried back into her chamber.