"The owner of San Carlos is a Spaniard," rejoined Bocardo, without making any direct reply to the insinuation of his associate. "It would surely be no great crime to take either the wife or property of a _Gachupino_." "Hold, _amigo_! that Gachupino is as great a friend to the insurgent cause as you or I. He has furnished us with provisions, and--" "True; but he does it out of pure fear. How can you suppose that any one is a true insurgent, who has chests filled with bags of dollars, drawers crammed with silver plate, and besides," added Bocardo to conceal his true designs, "such a pretty young wife by his side. Bah! we were fools that we did not also take Don Mariano's two daughters from him, at the same time that we disembarrassed him of his plate. We should have been better off now, and I too should have possessed a beautiful creature, whereas I am still a solitary bachelor. But it's my luck, camarado, always to sacrifice my own interests to yours!" "Look here, Bocardo!" said the brigand leader after a moment of pensive silence, in which he appeared to reflect upon the proposals of his astute associate, "we shall get ourselves into trouble, if we carry on in this fashion. It may end in our being hunted down like a pair of wild beasts." "We have a hundred and fifty devoted followers," simply replied the other, "every one of them brave and true as his dagger." "Well!" said Arroyo, still speaking in a reflective tone, "I do not say, but--I shall think it over." The eyes of Bocardo flashed with a fierce joy as he perceived the undecided bearing of his associate. Well knew he that, before the end of that day, he should be able to obtain Arroyo's full consent and co-operation in the dark and terrible deed he had designed to accomplish. CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN. A REAL VIRAGO. The two brigands remained for some time without saying a word, both reflecting on the scheme of murder and pillage which they now premeditated. At this moment the tent flap was raised, and a figure appeared in the entrance. It was a woman of masculine mien--a true virago--robust and hale; but whose countenance betrayed the ravage of evil passions rather than time. Her coarse hair clubbed around her head, and held in its place by a large tortoiseshell comb with gold pendants, showed no sign of advanced age. It was black as ebony. Around her neck were hung numerous chains of gold and glass beads, to which were attached a number of crosses, scapularies, and other golden ornaments; but in spite of this gaudy adorning her countenance was hideous to behold, and did not belie the portrait of Arroyo's wife which had been sketched by Bocardo, for it was she. As she presented herself at the opening of the tent, rage was depicted in her countenance, exhibiting itself in the swollen veins of her neck and forehead, and in the rolling of her bloodshot eyes.