But for what purpose are they thus mounted? What scene of mockery is to be enacted? Scene of mockery! Ha! ha! ha! Observe! _the horses upon which they sit are wild mustangs_! Observe! _they are blinded with tapojos_! For what purpose? You shall see. A Tagno stands at the head of each horse, and holds him with difficulty. The animals are kept fronting the cliff, with their heads directed to the jutting point of La Nina. The Indians are drawn up in line also facing to the cliff. There is no noise in their ranks. An ominous silence characterises the scene. In front is their chief mounted upon his coal-black steed; and upon him the eyes of all are fixed, as though they expected some signal, his face is pale, but its expression is stern and immobile. He has not yet reached the completion of his vengeance. There are no words between him and his victims. All that has passed. They know their doom. Their backs are towards him, and they see him not; but the Tagnos who stand by the horses' heads have their eyes fixed upon him with a singular expression. What do these expect? A signal. In awful silence was that signal given. To the right and left sprang the Tagnos, leaving free the heads of the mustangs. Another signal to the line of mounted warriors, who, on receiving it, spurred their horses forward with a wild yell. Their spears soon pricked the hips of the mustangs, and the blinded animals sprang towards the cliff! The groans of agonised terror that escaped from their riders were drowned by the yells of the pursuing horsemen. In a moment all was over. The terrified mustangs had sprung out from the cliff--had carried their riders into eternity! The dusky warriors pulled up near the brink, and sat gazing upon each other in silent awe. A horseman dashed to the front; and, poising his horse upon the very edge, looked down into the abysm. It was the White Chief. For some moments he regarded the shapeless masses that lay below. He saw that they moved not. Men and horses were all dead crushed, bruised, and shattered--a hideous sight to behold! A deep sigh escaped him, as though some weight had been lifted from his heart, and, turning around he muttered to his friend-- "Don Juan! I have kept my oath--_she is avenged_!" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The setting sun saw that long line of Indian warriors filing from the valley, and heading for the plain of the Llano Estacado. But they went not as they had come. They returned to their country laden with the plunder of San Ildefonso--to them the legitimate spoils of war. The cibolero still rode at their head, and Don Juan the ranchero was by his side. The fearful scenes through which they had just passed shadowed the brows of both; but these shadows became lighter as they dwelt on the prospect before them. Each looked forward to a happy greeting at the end of his journey.