"None! We are surrounded on all sides."

"Oh, my Maker! What have I done?" the poor girl sobbed.

Curumilla reclined upon the ground; he had taken his weapons from his belt, and placed them beside him; and with the stoical fatalism of the Indian when he knows that he cannot escape a destiny that threatens him, he waited impassively, his arms crossed upon his breast, the arrival of the enemy. They heard the tramp of the horses drawing nearer and nearer. In a quarter of an hour all would be over.

"Let my sister prepare," Curumilla said coolly: "Antinahuel approaches."

"Poor man," said Rosario; "why did you endeavour to save me?"

"The young blue-eyed maiden is the friend of my pale brothers; I would lay down my life for her."

"You must not die, chief," she said, in her soft clear tones; "you shall not!"

"Why not? I do not dread torture; my sister shall see how a chief can die."

"Listen to me. You have heard the threats of that woman; my life is in no danger."

He replied by a gesture of assent.

"But," she continued, "if you remain with me, if you are taken, they will kill you."

"Yes," he remarked, coolly.

"Then who will inform my friends of my fate? If you die, chief, what can they do to deliver me?"

"That is true; they can do nothing."

"You must live, then, chief, for my sake."

"Does my sister wish it?"

"I insist upon it."

"Good!" said the Indian. "I will go, then; but let not my sister be cast down."

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