The mameluco alighted, threw his lasso, drew out the corpse with it, and contemplated it. His astonishment was great when in this mutilated corpse, already half-devoured by the alligators, he recognised the Grand Sarigue, that very warrior that Tarou Niom had a few hours before dispatched to the Payagoas. The half-caste left the corpse there without concerning himself about it any further; he mounted his horse, and resumed his journey so much the more rapidly as, since the messenger was dead, he had not been able to fulfil his commission. Only, who had killed the Grand Sarigue? In what way had this murder been committed? Following up these doubtful circumstances, he came across a horseman coming from the village of the Payagoas, whither he himself was proceeding, and from which he was scarcely a league distant, and, strange to say, this horseman appeared the very man whom he had found some moments since dead and half-devoured. The affair became very embarrassing; the half-caste did not know what to think; he asked himself whether he had not been deceived--if the corpse he had discovered was really that of the Grand Sarigue? All of a sudden a bright idea crossed his mind; there was evidently treason, the man whom he had met wore a disguise! One man only could have assumed with such rare skill another costume and bearing. That man was Diogo. As soon as this thought had occurred to Malco Diaz, it gave certainty to his mind. Foaming with rage at having been so far duped, and burning to revenge himself, he abruptly turned the bridle of his horse. But while Malco was making these reflections, and had, by a course of deduction, at last arrived at the truth, a considerable time had passed--a time that the Indian had profited by planning and preparing for a ruse which should aid him to escape. Persons who do not know that noble and intelligent race, the horses of the American desert, will, with difficulty, conceive even a distant idea of the wonderful speed with which a pursuit in the desert is executed. When the horse has been incessantly excited, he feels the magnetic influence of his horseman, and appears to identify himself with him, and to understand his wishes. Grand in his fury and energy, his eyes full of fire, his nostrils spirting with blood, his mouth foaming, feeling neither bit nor bridle, he seems to annihilate space, leaping ravines, scaling hills, crossing rivers, overcoming all obstacles with a dexterity, skill, and velocity, which pass all belief, animating himself on his journey, and by degrees reaching a kind of mad and proud excitement, so much the more beautiful, as he appears to understand that he may die in the desperate battle in which he is struggling; but what matters if he attains the end, and if his master is saved?