And as he spoke he pointed to the form, which, in the clear moonlight, could be distinguished as that of a woman, dressed in a robe as white as the floripondio, with long dark tresses floating over her shoulders like the mantilla of some grand señora.
“It is Matlacuezc,” muttered the negro, in a low, anxious tone, and scarce able to conceal the terror with which the apparition had inspired him.
“Beyond doubt,” hurriedly replied Costal, gliding down towards the water, followed by the negro.
On arriving at the beach, both plunged into the lake, and commenced swimming back towards the shore. Although the white form was no longer visible to them from their low position in the water, Don Cornelio could still see it glancing through the green stems of the reeds, but no longer in motion.
Costal had taken the bearings of the place before committing himself to the water; and, swimming with vigorous stroke, he soon reached the shore several lengths in advance of his companion.
Don Cornelio could see both of the adventurers as they swam back, and perceived, moreover, that the white form had been seen by them, and it was towards this object that Costal was steering his course. He saw the Indian approach close to it; and was filled with surprise at beholding him stretch forth his arms, as if to grasp the goddess of the waters, when all at once a loud voice sounded in his ears, crying out the words—
“Death to the murderer of Gaspacho!”
Along with the voice a light suddenly flashed up among the bushes, and the report of a carbine reverberated along the shores of the lake.
Costal and Clara were both seen to dive at the shot; and for a time Don Cornelio could not see either of them.
The white form had also sunk out of sight, but near the spot which it had occupied, the long reeds were seen to shake in a confused manner, as if some one was struggling in their midst.