porch. Panting and staggering, the poor beast shows the abuse of a
merciless rider. The messenger's heels are adorned with two inch
spiked wheels, bloody with spurring the jaded beast.

Peace or war? Maxime's heart beats violently. He prudently withdraws.
The wild soldiery gather on the plaza. His guards are there with
his own weapons, proudly displayed.

The Southerner chafes in helplessness. Could he but have his
own horse and those weapons, he would meet any two of them in the
open. They are now clamoring against the Gringos. Soon the courier
reappears. All is bustle and shouting. Far away, on the rich knolls,
Maxime sees fleet riders gathering up the horses nearest the ranch.
When Padre Francisco arrives from his morning lessons, a troop of
vaqueros are arrayed on the plaza.

"The news?" eagerly queries Maxime.

"Thanks be to God!" says the padre, "Fremont has broken camp after
five days' stay at the Hawk's Peak. He is moving north. There has
been skirmishing, but no battle. Don Miguel is sending a company
to watch their march, and will attack if they menace any of our
sentinels. The Americans may, however, go into Oregon, or back
over the mountains. The Commandante will keep his main force in
the valley. If they turn back, he will dispute their passage. You
will be kept here."

Valois gazes on the departure. He takes an informal adieu of those
trusty weapons which have been with him in so many scenes of danger.