It would be impossible to describe my feelings as I was flung upon the floor of our prison. This was cold, damp, and filthy; but I heeded not these grievances. Greater sorrows absorbed the less. There is no torture so racking, no pain so painful as the throbbings of a jealous heart; but how much harder to bear under circumstances like mine! She could sleep, smile, dance—dance by my prison, and with my jailer!

I felt spiteful—vengeful. I was stung to a desire for retaliation, and along with this came an eagerness to live for the opportunity of indulging in this passion.

I began to look around our prison, and see what chances it afforded for escape.

“Good heavens! if our being transferred to the cell should destroy the plans of Narcisso! How is he to reach us? The door is double-locked, and a sentry is pacing without.”

After several painful efforts I raised myself upon my feet, propping my body against the side of the prison. There was an aperture—a window about as large as a loophole for musketry. I spun myself along the wall until I stood directly under it. It was just the height of my chin. Cautioning my companions to silence, I placed my ear to the aperture and listened. A low sound came wailing from the fields without. I did not heed this. I knew it was the wolf. It rose again, louder than before. A peculiarity in the howl struck me, and I turned, calling to Raoul.

“What is it, Captain?” inquired he.

“Do you know if the prairie wolf is found here?”

“I do not know if it be the true prairie wolf, Captain. There is one something like the coyote.”

I returned to the aperture and listened.

“Again the howl of the prairie wolf—the bark! By heavens! it is Lincoln!”

Now it ceased for several minutes, and then came again, but from another direction.

“What is to be done? if I answer him, it will alarm the sentry. I will wait until he comes closer to the wall.”

I could tell that he was creeping nearer and nearer.

Finding he had not been answered, the howling ceased. I stood listening eagerly to every sound from without. My comrades, who had now become apprised of Lincoln’s proximity, had risen to their feet and were leaning against the walls.

We were about half an hour in this situation, without exchanging a word, when a light tap was heard from without, and a soft voice whispered:

“Hola, Capitan!”

I placed my ear to the aperture. The whisper was repeated. It was not Lincoln—that was clear.

It must be Narcisso.

“Quien?” I asked.

“Yo, Capitan.”

I recognised the voice that had addressed me in the morning.

It is Narcisso.

“Can you place your hands in the aperture?” said he.

“No; they are tied behind my back.”

“Can you bring them opposite, then?”

“No; I am standing on my toes, and my wrists are still far below the sill.”

“Are your comrades all similarly bound?”

“All.”

“Let one get on each side of you, and raise you up on their shoulders.”

Wondering at the astuteness of the young Spaniard, I ordered Chane and Raoul to lift me as he directed.

When my wrists came opposite the window I cautioned them to hold on. Presently a soft hand touched mine, passing all over them. Then I felt the blade of a knife pressed against the thong, and in an instant it leaped from my wrists. I ordered the men to set me down, and I listened as before.

“Here is the knife. You can release your own ankles and those of your comrades. This paper will direct you further. You will find the lamp inside.”

A knife, with a folded and strangely shining note, was passed through by the speaker.

“And now, Capitan—one favour,” continued the voice, in a trembling tone.

“Ask it! ask it!”

“I would kiss your hand before we part.”

“Dear, noble boy!” cried I, thrusting my hand into the aperture.

“Boy! ah, true—you think me a boy. I am no boy, Capitan, but a woman—one who loves you with all her blighted, broken heart!”

“Oh, heavens! It is, then—dearest Guadalupe!”

“Ha! I thought as much. Now I will not. But no; what good would it be to me? No—no—no! I shall keep my word.”

This appeared to be uttered in soliloquy, and the tumult of my thoughts prevented me from noticing the strangeness of these expressions. I thought of them afterwards.

“Your hand! your hand!” I ejaculated............