The rescuers are now in possession of the camp, animals, everything. But the first to reach the bottom of the ravine is he who has guided them thither, Henry Tresillian; there to receive a shower of thanks and blessings, his father pressing him to his bosom, which alike beats with joy and pride. And the gambusino embraces him, too, crying out,
“I see you’ve brought back my saddle, señorito; and after the service it has done, I hope you’ll never consent to part with it. Bridle and saddle both, I make you a present of them; which I trust you’ll do me the honour to accept.”
This draws the attention of all upon Crusader standing by, who in turn becomes the recipient of an ovation.
But his young master stays not to witness it. Up on the summit is one who occupies all his thoughts, claiming him now; and up bounds he with lighter heart than he ever before made that ascent.
“Henrique!”
“Gertrudes!” are the exchanged exclamations of the youthful lovers, as they become locked in each other’s arms, their lips meeting in a kiss of rapturous joy.
All congratulations over, the corralled wagons are once more in possession of their owners. Scarce any damage has been done to the mining machinery or tools; the Indians, from neglect or ignorance of their uses, not having thought it worth while to destroy them. And for the animals and chattels they had carried off, there is ample compensation in those now taken from them—enough to furnish the wagons with fresh teams, re-establish the pack-train, in short, put the caravan in order for resuming the march. Which it does, after a couple of days spent in getting things into condition for the route, when it continues on to its original destination, the gambusino still with it as guide.
On the same day Requeñes starts out on return to Arispe, taking the Coyotero prisoners along with him; while Don Juliano and his valiant vaqueros charge themselves with the task of restoring the women of Nacomori to their homes.