"Nevertheless, it was as I tell your excellency,--we all saw it. Rafaël had been playing at _monte_, at Don Aguillar's, and it appears that luck was not favourable to him; he lost all the money he had; he then flew into a rage, and to avenge himself, set fire to the house." "Caspita!" said the judge. "It was just as I have the honour to tell your excellency; look, the smoke may yet be seen, though the house is in ashes." "Well, it seems so," the judge said, turning his eyes to the point indicated by the lepero. "And, then----" "Then," the other continued, "he naturally wished to escape. Cornejo endeavoured to stop him." "He was right!" "Well, he was wrong, I think; for Rafaël killed him!" "That's true! that's true!" said the judge; "but be satisfied, my good people, justice will avenge him." This promise was received by all present with a smile of doubt. The magistrate, without concerning himself about the impression produced by his words, ordered his acolytes, who had already examined and plundered the defunct, to take the body away, and transport it to the porch of the nearest church, and then returned to his residence, rubbing his hands with a satisfied air. The judge put on a travelling dress, placed a brace of pistols in his belt, fastened a long sword to his side, and, after taking a light dinner, went out. Ten alguaciles, armed to the teeth, and mounted on strong horses, waited for him at the door; a domestic held the bridle of a magnificent black horse, which pawed the ground and champed the bit impatiently. Don Inigo placed himself in the saddle, headed his men, and the troop went off at a gentle trot. "Eh! eh!" said the curious, who were stationed around upon the doorsteps. "The Juez Albaceyte is going to Don Ramón Garillas's; we shall hear some news tomorrow." "Caspita!" others replied; "his picaro of a son has fairly earned the cord that is to hang him!" "Humph!" said a lepero, with a smile of regret; "that would be unfortunate! the lad promises so well! By my word, the _cuchillada_ he gave Cornejo was magnificent. The poor devil was neatly killed." In the meantime, the judge continued his journey, returning with punctuality all the salutations with which he was overwhelmed on his way. He was soon in the country. Then pulling his cloak tighter round him, he asked,-- "Are the arms all loaded?" "Yes, excellency," the chief of the alguaciles replied. "That's well. To the hacienda of Don Ramón Garillas, then; and at a smart pace; we must endeavour to get there before nightfall." The party set off at a gallop. CHAPTER II. THE HACIENDA DEL MILAGRO. The environs of Hermosillo are a thorough desert. The road which leads from that city to the Hacienda del Milagro (Farm of the Miracle) is one of the dullest and most arid possible.