"There!" Red Cedar yelled, "I told you I would only give you your daughter dead—come and take her!"
And with a demoniac laugh, he buried his knife in Doña Clara's bosom. The poor girl fell on her knees, clasped her hands, and expired, crying for the last time—
"Father! Father!"
"Oh!" Don Miguel shrieked—"Woe! Woe!" and he fell unconscious on the ground.
At the sight of this cowardly act, Valentine, rendered powerless, writhed his hands in despair. Curumilla raised his rifle, and ere Red Cedar could start his horse at a gallop, fired; but the bullet, badly aimed, did not strike the bandit, who uttered a yell of triumph, and started at full speed.
"Oh!" Valentine shouted, "I swear by Heaven I will have that monster's life!"
The shock we just alluded to was the last effort of the earthquake, though there were a few more scarcely felt oscillations, as if the earth were seeking to regain its balance, which it had momentarily lost.
The Apaches, carried away in their canoes, had already gained a considerable distance; the fire was expiring for want of nourishment on the ground, which had been inundated by the waters of the river.
In spite of the help lavished on him by his friends, Don Miguel did not return to life for a long time. The general approached the hunter, who was leaning, gloomy and pensive, on his rifle, with his eyes fixed on space.
"What are we doing here?" he said to him; "Why do we not resume our pursuit of that villain?"