The dragoon captain had fairly won his spurs in the sanguinary wars of the Indian frontier. He had witnessed death in all its forms, and his experience had taught him to adopt the readiest means in such a crisis. He first stopped the bleeding with his handkerchief, and then, taking the scarf of China crape from his waist, he bound it tightly over the wound. For all this he had but little hopes of the man's recovery. The bullet had entered between his shoulders, and passed clear through his body. Don Rafael only anticipated that, the haemorrhage once stopped, the wounded man might return for a moment to consciousness, he was, no doubt, the bearer of some important message from his master, and it behoved Don Rafael to learn its purport. Some time elapsed before the old servant opened his eyes; but one of Don Mariano's people at that moment came up, carrying a flask of _aguardiente_. A few drops were poured down his throat. Some of the liquid was sprinkled over his temples, and this had the effect of momentarily reviving him. Opening his eyes, he beheld his young master bending over him. He had not seen Don Rafael since childhood, but he knew he was in the neighbourhood, and that the young officer must be he. "It is I, Rodriguez," said Don Rafael, speaking close to his ear. "I-- Rafael Tres-Villas. You have a message from my father? Why has he sent you?" "Blessed be God that He has sent _you_," said the old man, speaking with difficulty. "Oh! Senor Don Rafael, I bring fearful news. The hacienda Del Valle--" "Is burnt?" The wounded man made a sign in the negative. "Besieged, then?" "Yes," replied Rodriguez in a feeble voice. "And my father?" inquired the officer with a look of anguish. "He lives. He sent me to you--to Don Mariano's--to ask assistance. I-- pursued by the brigands--a bullet--here! Do not stay with me. Hasten to your father. If any misfortune happen--Antonio Valdez--Remember-- Antonio Valdez--miscreant--taking vengeance for--oh, young master! Don Rafael--pray for poor old Rodriguez--who nursed you when a child-- pray--" The sufferer could speak no more, even in whispers. His head fell back upon the turf. He was dead. When the litter was set down in the courtyard of Las Palmas it carried only a corpse! Don Rafael had turned back for his horse, and to bid a hasty adieu to the family of his host. "If Costal were only here!" said Don Mariano. "Unfortunately the brave fellow is gone away. Only a few hours ago he came to take his leave of me, with another of my people--a negro whom I had no great fancy for. Both, I believe, are on their way to join the insurgent army in the capacity of scouts or guides. _Hola_!" continued the haciendado, shouting to one of the _peons_, "send hither the _mayor-domo_!"