"There are no other white squaws," replied the Indian, with a sullen and determined air. "A lie! a lie! your life shall answer. Here! confront him, Rube!" "'Ee dratted old skunk! That white har o' yourn ain't a-gwine to stay thur much longer ev you don't bring her out. Whur is she? the young queen?" "Al sur," and the Indian points to the south. "Oh! mon Dieu! mon Dieu!" cries Seguin, in his native tongue, and with an accentuation that expresses his complete wretchedness. "Don't believe him, cap! I've seed a heap o' Injun in my time; an' a lyiner old varmint than this'n I never seed yet. Ye heerd him jest now 'bout the other gals?" "Yes, true; he lied directly; but she--she might have gone--" "Not a bit o' it. Lyin's his trade. He's thur great medicine, an' humbugs the hul kit o' them. The gal is what they call Mystery Queen. She knows a heap, an' helps ole whitey hyur in his tricks an' sacrifiches. He don't want to lose her. She's hyur somewhur, I'll be boun'; but she ur cached: that's sartin." "Men!" cries Seguin, rushing forward to the parapet, "take ladders! Search every house! Bring all forth, old and young. Bring them to the open plain. Leave not a corner unsearched. Bring me my child!" The hunters rush for the ladders. They seize those of the great building, and soon possess themselves of others. They run from house to house, and drag out the screaming inmates. There are Indian men in some of the houses--lagging braves, boys, and "dandies." Some of these resist. They are slaughtered, scalped, and flung over the parapets. Crowds arrive, guarded, in front of the temple: girls and women of all ages. Seguin's eye is busy; his heart is yearning. At the arrival of each new group, he scans their faces. In vain! Many of them are young and pretty, but brown as the fallen leaf. She is not yet brought up. I see the three captive Mexicans standing with their friends. They should know where she may be found. "Question them," I whisper to the chief. "Ha! you are right. I did not think of that. Come, come!" We run together down the ladders, and approach the delivered captives. Seguin hurriedly describes the object of his search. "It must be the Mystery Queen," says one. "Yes, yes!" cries Seguin, in trembling anxiety; "it is; she is the Mystery Queen." "She is in the town, then," adds another. "Where? where?" ejaculates the halt-frantic father. "Where? where?" echo the girls, questioning one another. "I saw her this morning, a short time ago, just before you came up." "I saw him hurry her off," adds a second, pointing upward to the old Indian. "He has hidden her." "Caval!" cries another, "perhaps in the estufa!" "The estufa! what is it?" "Where the sacred fire burns; where he makes his medicine." "Where is it? lead me to it!" "Ay de mi! we know not the way. It is a sacred place where they burn people! Ay de mi!"