Juárez, has had its eye on you; your movements have been watched; we know for what motive you so hurriedly left Veracruz, and with what object you are going to Mexico."

"I am going to Mexico on commercial business, and the President is well aware of the fact, as he Himself signed my safe conduct, and the escort that accompanies me was graciously granted me by him, without my having the necessity to ask for it."

"All that is true, Señor; our magnanimous President—who always feels a repugnance for rigorous measures—did not wish to have you arrested; he preferred, through consideration for your grey hairs, to leave you means of escape; but your last act of treachery has filled up the measure, and though he has been obliged to force himself to do so, the President recognised the necessity of acting vigorously against you without delay. I was sent after you with orders to arrest you, and this order I now execute."

"And may I know of what treason I am accused?"

"You must know better than anyone else, Señor Don Andrés de la Cruz, the motives which induced you to give up your own name and assume that of Don Antonio de Carrera."

Don Andrés—for such in reality was his name—was startled by this revelation; not that he felt himself guilty, for this change of name had been effected with the assent of the President; but he was confounded by the duplicity of the people who arrested him, and who, for want of better reasons, even played this one to make him fall into an infamous snare, in order to seize on a fortune which they had long coveted.

Don Andrés, however, overcame his emotion, and addressed the guerillero once more.

"Take care of what you are doing, Señor Coronel," he said; "I am not a nobody, and will not let myself be thus despoiled without complaining; there is at Mexico a Spanish ambassador, who will be able to procure me justice."

"I do not know what you mean," Don Felipe answered imperturbably; "If you are alluding to Señor Pachero, I do not think that his protection will be very profitable to you; for this gentleman, who entitles himself ambassador extraordinary of H.M. the Queen of Spain, has thought proper to recognise the government of the traitor Miramón. Hence we of the other party have nothing to do with him, and his influence with the national President is completely null. However, I have no occasion to discuss the point with you; whatever may happen, I arrest you. Will you surrender, or do you intend to offer a useless resistance? Answer."

Don Andrés surveyed the persons who surrounded him; he saw that he had no hope or support to expect from anyone but his own servants, hence he let his revolvers fall at his feet, and folded his arms on his chest.

"I surrender to force," he said in a firm voice; "but I protest before all those who surround me against the violence which is done me."

"Pray protest, my dear sir, you are quite at liberty to do so, and it is not of the slightest consequence to me. Don José Dominquez," he added, addressing the officer who had calmly and carelessly witnessed this scene, "we will at once proceed to a minute inspection of the baggage, and, above all, the papers of the prisoner."

The old gentleman shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.

"Well played," he said; "unluckily you are a little too late, caballero."

"What do you mean?"

"Only this, that the money and securities you expect pact to find in my baggage are no longer there. I knew you too well, señor, not to have taken my precautions in the provision of what is happening at this moment."

"Maldición!" exclaimed the guerillero, as he smote the pommel of his saddle with his fist; "Devil of a gachupeico; do not fancy you will escape in this way. I will know where you have hidden your treasures, even if I am obliged to flay you alive."

"Try it," Don Andrés said ironically, and he turned his back on him.

The bandit had revealed himself. The guerillero, after the outbreak into which his avarice had led him; had no reason to affect moderation toward a man whom he intended to plunder in such an audaciously cynical manner.

"Very good," he said, "we shall see," and bending down to Don José's ear, he whispered to him for a few minutes.

The two bandits were doubtless concerting together the most effectual means by which to force the Spaniard to reveal his secret, and place himself at their mercy.

"Don Andrés," the guerillero said a moment after with a nervous grin; "since that is the case, I will venture to interrupt your journey; before returning to Veracruz, we will proceed together to your hacienda of Arenal, where we shall be able to discuss our business far more comfortably than on this high road; be good enough to get into your carriage again, and we will start; besides, your daughter, the charming Dolores, doubtless requires to be re-assured."

The old gentleman turned pale, for he comprehended all the horrible extent of the threat which the bandit made him; he raised his eyes to Heaven, and prepared to return to the carriage.

But at the same instant a furious galloping was heard. The soldiers moved out of the way in terror, and a horseman, coming up at full speed, dashed like a tornado into the centre of the circle formed round the berlin.

This horseman was masked, a black veil entirely covered his face. He suddenly pulled up his horse on its hind legs, and fixing on the guerillero eyes that flashed like live coals through the holes in the veil, he asked in a sharp, menacing voice—

"What is going on here?"

By an instinctive gesture, the guerillero gave a pull at his bridle, and made his horse recoil without replying.

The soldiers and the officer himself crossed themselves in terror, and muttered in a low voice—

"El Rayo! El Rayo!"

"I asked you a question," the unknown said, after a few moments of expectation.

The forty odd men who surrounded him piteously hung their heads, and, gradually falling back, considerably enlarged the circle, as they cordially felt no desire to enter into a discussion with this mysterious personage.

Don Andrés felt hope return to his heart; a secret foreboding warned him that the sudden arrival of this stranger, though it might not entirely change his position, would at least produce a more advantageous phase for himself; moreover, he fancied that he could confusedly recall the stranger's voice, though it was impossible for him to remember where he had heard it. Hence, while everybody else fell back in terror, he, on the contrary, approached the stranger with an instinctive eagerness, for which he could not account.

Don José Dominquez, the commander of the escort, had disappeared; he had fled disgracefully.

CHAPTER IV.

EL RAYO.

At the period when our story takes place, one man in Mexico had the privilege of concentrating on himself the curiosity, fears, and, more than all, the sympathy of all.

This man was El Rayo, that is to say, the Thunder.

Who was El Rayo? Whence did he come? What did he do?

These three questions, short though they were, no one could have answered with certainty.

And yet a most extraordinary number of legends was current about him.

We will tell in a few words the facts known about him.

Toward the close of 1857 he had suddenly appeared on the road that runs from Mexico to Veracruz, the police control of which he undertook in his fashion, stopping convoys and mail coaches, protecting or levying blackmail on the passengers, that is to say, in the second event, obliging the rich to bleed their purses slightly in favour of their companions less favoured than themselves by fortune, and forcing the leaders of escorts to defend the persons they were ordered to accompany against the attacks of the salteadores.

No one could have said whether he was young or old, handsome or ugly, brown or fair, for his