Turning then to Harding, who was supporting Margarita upon his arm, while Grant stood moodily aside, he said—cordially receiving the hand extended to him— “We were very nearly too late, at last—though, thank God! not quite. I had information from your messenger, since we entered the _hacienda_, that the bandit, De Marsiac, designed to take your lives, even after he had obtained the hand which was to be their ransom.” “I doubt not,” said Harding, frankly; “if my friend Grant and I see to-morrow morning, we shall owe the sight to your promptness in attending my call. You must be satisfied with our gratitude until the chances of war shall enable us to discharge the obligation in kind.” “If the only mode of payment,” said the captain with a smile, “is rescuing me from a scrape like this, I hope you may never have a creditor more pressing than I.” “I do not know,” said the ranger lieutenant, Gillespie, coming forward with the open manner of the soldier; “I think, if the prize, at the outcome, were as great as it seems to be in this instance, Captain McCulloch would have no special objection to dangers quite as imminent.” He looked at Margarita as he spoke—for she still hung upon Harding’s arm. The captain laughed at what he considered a compliment both to himself and the lady; a round of introductions ensued, and congratulations, with jests and pleasant laughs—during which the prisoners were marched off and confined, and the _hacienda_ reassumed its aspect of dreamy quiet. “Gentlemen,” said Margarita, when a pause at last broke the round of felicitations, “you have ridden far and hard, and must be both fatigued and hungry. Will you not partake of some refreshment?” “With the utmost pleasure,” answered McCulloch; “but I must first see my men quartered.” “I have already given orders for their accommodation,” said Margarita. “Since I may soon be under their escort, it becomes me to consult their comfort.” “Under their escort!” exclaimed Harding. “Yes,” she replied. “Since my mother’s death this is no longer a fit residence for me. I have many relatives in Saltillo, and it is thither that I wish to go. When you return to the United States,” she added, in French, observing Harding’s doubtful look, “I shall be your companion—if you desire it.” He could only reply by another look, of a different meaning, when McCulloch asked— “What will become of the _hacienda_ in your absence? I have seen too much of the steward system in this country, not to regret the absence of the proprietor from every fine estate.” “I shall give it to one,” she replied, “who, though he already claims it unjustly, has, by his services this night entitled himself to even a greater reward. I mean the young man who led you hither.” “And his mother,” suggested one of the women, who did not quite relish the generous proposition.