"_Amantes_?" (lovers), whispered Archilete, half-interrogatively, as with a smile of quiet significance he followed the receding form of the hunter. "Yes; lovers who have been long separated." "_Carrambo_! Do you say so? This then should be the rival of the false husband?" I nodded assent. "_Por Dios, Senor_; it is not to be wondered at that the canting _heretico_ stood no chance in that game-- had it been played fairly. Your _camarado_ is a magnificent fellow. I can understand now why the wild huntress had no eyes for our _mountain-men_ here. No wonder she sighed for her far forest-home. _Ay de mi, cavallero_! Love is a powerful thought, even the desert will not drive it out of one's heart. No, no; _valga me dios_! no!" The tone in which the Mexican repeated the last words had a tinge of sadness in it--while his eyes turned upon the fire with an expression that betrayed melancholy. It was easy to tell that he too--odd, and even ludicrous as was his personal appearance--either was, or had been, one of love's victims. I fancied he might have a story to tell--a love story? and at that moment my mind was attuned to listen to such a tale. Sure-shot had also left us--our animals picketed a few paces off requiring his attention--and the two of us were left alone by the fire. If the trapper's tale should prove a sentimental romance--and such are not uncommon in the Mexican border land--the moment was opportune. Seeing that my new acquaintance was in the communicative mood, I essayed to draw him forth. "You speak truly," I said. "Love _is_ a powerful passion, and defies even the desert to destroy it. You yourself have proved it so, I presume? You have souvenirs?" "Ay, senor, that have I; and painful ones." "Painful?" "As poison--_Carrai-i-i_!" "Your sweetheart has been unfaithful?" "No." "Her parents have interfered, I suppose, as is often the case? She has been forced against her will to marry another?" "Ah! _senor_, no. She was never married." "Not married? what then?" "She was _murdered_!" Regret at having initiated a conversation--that had stirred up such a melancholy memory--hindered me from making rejoinder; and I remained silent. My silence, however, did not stay the tale. Perhaps my companion longed to unburden himself; or, with some vague hope of sympathy, felt relief in having a listener. After a pause he proceeded to narrate the story of his love, and the sad incidents that led to its fatal termination. CHAPTER NINETY TWO. GABRIELLA GONZALES. "_Puez, Senor_!" commenced the Mexican, "your comrades tell me, you have been campaigning down below on the Rio Grande." "Quite true--I have." "Then you know something of our Mexican frontier life--how for the last half century we have been harassed by the _Indios bravos_--our _ranchos_ given to the flames--our grand _haciendas_ plundered and laid waste--our very towns attacked--many of them pillaged, destroyed, and now lying in ruins."