THE MYSTERY.
On leaving the Rancho del Coyote, Red Cedar dug his spurs into his horse's flanks, and galloped in a south-western direction. So soon as he was out of the town he turned to the left, took a narrow path that ran round the walls, pulled up his horse, and advanced with the utmost caution. Throwing suspicious glances on either side, he went on thus for about three-quarters of an hour, when he reached a house, in one of the windows of which burned three wax tapers.
The lights thus arranged were evidently a signal for the squatter, for so soon as he came to the house he stopped and dismounted, attached his horse to a larch-tree, and prudently concealing himself behind a thicket, imitated thrice at equal intervals the hu-hu of an owl. The lights burning in the window were extinguished, as if by enchantment.
The night was gloomy, only a few stars studded the vault of heaven; a leaden silence brooded over the plain, which appeared quite solitary. At this moment a voice could be heard from the house which Red Cedar was watching so carefully. The squatter listened; the speaker leaned for a second out of the window looked cautiously round, and disappeared muttering loud enough for the American to overhear—
"All is quiet in the neighbourhood."
"Still," the squatter said, without showing himself, "the coyotes prowl about the plain."
"Are you coming or going?" the man at the window continued.
"Both," the squatter answered, still hidden behind his bush.
"You can come on, for you are expected."
"I know it; hence here I am."