"I am sure of it; they perceived the bivouac of Mexican soldiers escorting a conducta de plata, and are naturally trying to get hold of it; it was partly to that fortuitous circumstance I owe my safety." "On my word! All the worse for the Mexicans," the Canadian said carelessly; "every man for himself: let them settle matters as they think proper, their affairs do not interest us." "That is my opinion too." "We have still three hours of night; let us profit by them to rest, in order to be ready to start for the hacienda at sunrise." "The advice is good, and should be followed," said Lanzi, who immediately lay down with his feet to the fire, wrapped himself in his zarapé, and closed his eyes. Loyal Heart, who doubtless shared his opinion, followed his example. As for Quoniam, after conscientiously flaying the tigers and their cubs, he lay down in front of the fire, and for the last two hours had been sleeping with that careless indifference so characteristic of the Black race. Tranquil then turned to Carmela. The maiden was seated a few paces from him; she was gazing into the fire pensively, and tears stood in her eyes. "Well, daughter mine," the Canadian said to her softly, "what are you doing there? You must be exhausted with fatigue, so why not try to get a few minutes' rest?" "For what good?" she asked sorrowfully. "What do you mean?" the tigrero asked sharply, though the girl's accent made him start; "Why, to regain your strength of course." "Let me remain awake, father; I could not sleep, however tired I might feel; sleep will fly my eyelids." The Canadian examined her for a moment with the greatest attention. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked, shaking his head meditatively. "Nothing, father," she replied, as she tried to force a smile. "Girl, girl," he muttered, "all this is not quite clear; I am only a poor hunter, very ignorant of matters of the world, and my mind is simple; but I love you, child, and my heart tells me you are suffering." "I?" she exclaimed in denial; but all at once she burst into tears, and falling on the hunter's manly chest, she hid her face in his bosom, and murmured in a choking voice-- "Oh, father, father, I am so wretched." Tranquil, at this exclamation, torn from her by the force of pain, started as if a serpent had stung him; his eye sparkled, he gave the girl a look full of paternal love, and compelled her with gentle constraint to look him in the face. "Wretched? you, Carmela?" he exclaimed anxiously. "Great Heaven, what has happened then?" By a supreme effort, the maiden succeeded in calming herself; her features reassumed their ordinary tranquillity, she wiped away her tears, and smiled at the hunter, who anxiously watched her. "Pardon me, father," she said in an insinuating voice, "I am mad." "No, no," he replied, shaking his head twice or thrice; "you are not mad, my child, but are concealing something from me." "Father!" she said with a blush, and looked down in confusion.