"It was surprised last night," replied Don Sebastian, sadly. "I expect the sentinels were worn out with constant watching. Dios! It is frightful. First Puebla de los Naranjos, now Chichimec; Janjalla has already fallen, and Tlatonac----" "Won't fall," interrupted Jack, abruptly, as the last of the cavalry swept through the gate. "When things are at their worst, matters mend. Just now they are very gloomy. To-morrow they may improve." Tim stayed behind to make inquiries about the fall of Chichimec for the use of his paper, and Philip, in company with Jack, went off to look up Peter, and ask him if he would consent to act as Tim's messenger to Truxillo. They could not find him in their own house, and learned from a servant that he had gone in search of them to the Casa Maraquando. At once they repaired thither, and had just reached the door, when Peter, with a look of alarm on his face, rushed out of the house, almost falling into their arms in his hurry. "Philip! Jack! Have you heard?" "What is the matter, Peter?" "Don Francisco has shot himself! Don Miguel has just told me." Philip made a gesture of horror, and Jack ran into the house to see Maraquando, and learn the particulars of the case. It was perfectly true. Unable to bear the disgrace of being deposed from the active conduct of affairs, President Gomez had retired to his room, and shot himself through the heart. CHAPTER V. THE INDIAN RAID. Painted braves came on the war-path, Numerous as the leaves in summer, Decked with feathers and with wampum, All their faces fierce and fearless, Streaked with colours like the sunset, Rage was in their hearts of iron; Spears grasped they, and bows and arrows, And their horses, like the storm clouds, Swiftly swept across the prairies, Till the firm earth shook and trembled 'Neath the thunder of their thousands. Loud they sang the song of battle, Sang the song of war and bloodshed; While the nations, women-hearted, Hid within their walled cities, Like the rabbits in their burrows, When they heard that chaunt triumphal.