For a long time this strange meeting strongly occupied the mind of the young girl; for an instant, she had even believed that Loyal Heart and her unknown preserver were the same man; but this supposition had soon faded away. What probability was there in it? With that object could Loyal Heart, after having saved her, so quickly have departed? That would have been absurd. But, by one of those consequences (or those inconsequences, whichever the reader pleases) of the human mind, in proportion as the affair of Mexico was effaced from her thoughts, that of Loyal Heart, became more prominent. She longed to see the hunter and talk with him. Why? She did not herself know. To see him,---to hear his voice,--to meet his look, at once so soft and so proud,--nothing else; all maidens would have done the same. But how was she to see him again? In reply to that question arose an impossibility, before which the poor girl dropped her head with discouragement. And yet something at the bottom of her heart, perhaps that voice divine which in the reflections of love whispers to young girls, told her that her wish would soon be accomplished. She hoped, then? What for? For some unforeseen incident,--a terrible danger, perhaps,--which might again bring them together. True love may doubt sometimes, but it never despairs. Four days after the establishment of the camp upon the hill, in the evening, when retiring to her tent, Doña Luz smiled inwardly as she looked at her uncle, who was pensively preparing to go to rest. She had at length thought of a means of going in search of Loyal Heart. CHAPTER XIII. THE BEE-HUNT. The sun was scarcely above the horizon, when the general, whose horse was already saddled, left the reed cabin which served him as a sleeping apartment, and prepared to set out on his usual daily ride. At the moment when he was putting his foot in the stirrup, a little hand lifted the curtain of the tent, and Doña Luz appeared. "Oh! oh! what, up already!" said the general, smiling. "So much the better, dear child. I shall be able to have a kiss before I set out; and that perhaps may bring me good luck," he added, stifling a sigh. "You will not go thus, uncle," she replied, presenting her cheek, upon which he placed a kiss. "Why not, fair lady?" he asked gaily. "Because I wish you to partake of something I have prepared for you before you mount on horseback; you cannot refuse me, can you, dear uncle?" she said, with that coaxing smile of spoilt children which delights the hearts of old men. "No, certainly not, dear child, upon condition that the breakfast you offer me so gracefully be not delayed. I am rather in a hurry." "I only ask for a few minutes," she replied, returning to the tent. "For a few minutes be it then," said he, following her. The young girl clapped her hands with joy.