party attacking you. It is strange, indeed, that he should have met with two such adventures in the course of a week. Possibly, Juan, the one was a sequel to the other, and those engaged in it may have been the comrades of the men who attacked you at San Diego, and who thus assaulted you to obtain revenge for their mishap there."

"That was so, father. Both attacks were the work of one man, who, I am happy to say, will trouble me no more, as he was the leader of the second attack—the man whom Señor Harland shot."

"But who is the man, and what could have been his motive for thus attacking you?"

"I only suspected the first time, father, and until I looked at the man Harland had shot I was not sure of it. Happily none of the men who acted for him are likely to open their lips on the matter, and no one else will have a suspicion. Had it been otherwise we might have had a good deal of trouble over it, for the man was Captain Enriques Melos."

Sarasta looked grave.

"As you say, that would lead to serious trouble were it known, although, clearly, you were not to blame in the matter; but what was the reason of his enmity against you?"

"He was a suitor for Donna Christina Guzman's hand, father."

"Ah, ah, that explains it! Well, we will think no more of it at present; but what did you do with his body?"

"We piled rocks over it; there is no fear of his being discovered, and as he certainly would not have mentioned to anyone his intention of murdering me on my way home, no search is likely to be made in that direction."

"That is well. Of course I received your letter, Juan, and sent off a messenger at once to Señor Guzman, giving my and your mother's hearty consent to the match, which indeed pleased us much."

Two or three minutes later they arrived at the hacienda, in front of which a number of servants and peons employed in the gardens and stables had gathered to welcome their young master back after his nine months' absence. As they dismounted, Donna Sarasta appeared at the door. Juan ran up the steps and tenderly embraced her; Señor Sarasta then led Will up.

"Your first welcome, my dear, should have been given to this gentleman, Señor William Harland, for had it not been for him you would not have Juan by your side now. He has twice saved his life."

"Twice saved his life!" Donna Sarasta exclaimed incredulously. "Is it possible, Philip?"

"It is quite true," her husband said gravely. "Had it not been for him Juan would never have returned to us. Do not be alarmed; the danger is over, for the author of these attacks has fallen by Don William's rifle."

The lady held out both hands to Will. The tears were streaming down her cheeks.

"Señor," she said, "I cannot thank you now. Remember that it is our only son's life that you have saved. Think of what we should have felt had he not returned, and our men had brought us news of his death. May the Blessed Virgin reward you and bless you! Give me your arm, Philip, I am faint."

Her husband and son supported her into the house and placed her on a couch.

"Look after your mother, Clara," the Mexican said, as two female attendants came in.

"Sancho, go and call Father Hidalgo down from his study. Doubtless he is unaware that my son has returned. Tell him that he is to bring bandages and salves, for there is a wound to be dressed. He will find my son in the dining-room. Do one of you fetch basins of hot water and sponges there. Now, Señor Harland, I will lead you to your room. Doubtless a bath will be agreeable to you after your journey."

Will was glad to be out of the way during this family meeting, and willingly followed his host, who took him to a large chamber on the first floor. A bath stood ready filled, with towels and all conveniences.

"I told them to put a suit of Juan's clothes in readiness. I did not know whether they would fit, but I have no doubt they will do so. They will save you the trouble of opening your bag till evening. And now, if you will excuse me, I will go down and look at the boy's wound."

"Well, luck has favoured me, indeed," Will said to himself, as he looked round the room before proceeding to undress. "A fortnight ago there was I, a runaway lad without plans, in a strange country, with nothing but my kit-bag and some ninety pounds to rely upon. Now I am in clover, with a good friend, a welcome assured as long as I choose to stay here, and an amount of gratitude that seems to me almost ridiculous, considering that it is all the result of my interfering in a street row, just as I might have done in any other port. At any rate, I shall have some new experiences to tell about when I get home. I shall certainly like the señor; he has been so long out here that he has shaken off the indolent air and the formal constraint that almost all these Spanish people have, and is much more like an American than an Englishman. The mere fact of his having settled in this out-of-the-way valley is a proof that he has a lot of go and pluck.

"Of course I can't tell much about his wife yet; she is naturally upset at the thought of Juan's danger. As to his sister, she is ever so much prettier than his sweetheart, though certainly Christina Guzman is pretty, too. She hardly said a word after her first welcome to him—I suppose she was too upset to talk, and will brighten up when she finds that Juan's wounds are really trifling. Well, I expect I shall have a jolly time of it here, and get some shooting and hunting. It will be great fun among all these herds of wild cattle. The first thing to do will be to learn to ride properly. I should not like to have all these Mexican fellows laughing at me. At any rate, I have learned something on our way here. I will get Juan to go out alone with me for a bit till I can be sure of sticking on. From what he was saying, some of their horses must be brutes to sit, especially those who jump straight up into the air, and keep on doing it until they get rid of their riders."

Having taken a bath and dressed very leisurely, he went downstairs again, feeling pleased that Juan's clothes fitted him so well, and that it was not necessary for him to get out his own, for, although new, they would certainly not look so well after their journey in the kit-bag as did the spotless white garments that had been provided for him. He found Clara alone in the patio. This hacienda, like most of its kind, was a large square building with a courtyard in its centre. In this case the patio had been transformed into a shady little garden, with orange-trees, bananas, and other tropical productions. Grape-vines climbed round the light pillars that supported the veranda that surrounded it, and covered its roof with a mass of foliage dotted with great purple bunches of grapes. Two or three little fountains were half-hidden among the trees, and the air was heavy with the scent of the orange and citron flowers.