Diogo darted towards him, but suddenly he made a bound on one side, and taking his gun by the barrel, he raised it above his head. An Indian was coming down upon him, but the former, immediately changing his position, bounded like a jaguar, clasped in his powerful arms the Indian who pursued him, overthrew him, and at the same moment put himself in the saddle in the Indian's place. This prodigy of skill and agility accomplished, he flew to the aid of the young girl. Scarcely had he raised her in his arms to put her on the horse, which he had so miraculously appropriated, than the Guaycurus warriors surrounded him. Diogo cast a sorrowful look at the young girl, whom he placed on the ground, and drawing from his girdle his pistols, the only arms he had left-- "Poor child," murmured he; "I have done what I could. Fate is against me. I will certainly kill two more of them before dying," he said, coolly loading his pistols. Suddenly the ranks of the warriors opened. Tarou Niom appeared. "Let no one touch that man and woman," he said. "Come, that will be for another time," said the captain, replacing his pistols in his girdle. "You are brave; I love you," resumed Tarou Niom; "take that jni-maak (feather); it will serve you for a safeguard. Remain here until I return." Diogo took the feather, and sat down sadly near the young girl. An hour later the captain and doña Laura were accompanying the Guaycurus warriors, who were returning to their village. The young girl was still in a fainting condition, and did not yet know the full extent of the new misfortune which had fallen upon her. Diogo carried her on the neck of his horse, and carefully upheld her. The brave captain appeared already if not resigned, completely consoled for his defeat, and talked amicably with the captain, Tarou Niom, who manifested so much regard for him. Diogo and the young girl alone had survived by a miracle, which had excited a feeling of pity in the ferocious heart of the Guaycurus chief. As to the Marquis de Castelmelhor, no one knew what had become of him. Notwithstanding the most active search, it had been impossible to find his body. Was he dead? Was be living? And had he, against all probability, succeeded in escaping? CHAPTER XV. EL VADO DEL CABESTRO. On the 23rd December, 1815, between two and three o'clock in the afternoon, that is to say, at the hottest time of the day, two travellers--coming respectively from the north and south--met face to face on the banks of a little river, an affluent of the Río Dulce, at the ford of the Licol, situated at an equal distance from Santiago and San Miguel de Tucumán. On arriving on the bank of the stream, as by one accord, the two travellers drew bridle, and looked about them attentively for some time.