“Thank the Virgin, we are nearly at the spring where we can get a good drink of cold water. I am nearly famished with thirst!” exclaimed Tadeo Campos.
“Yes, this cursed road, added to the sun’s heat, is intolerable. See, the horses know it as well as we do, although I doubt whether either of them were ever within fifty leagues of the place,” returned Augustin Canelo, as their jaded beasts increased their pace of their own accord, with loud whickers of delight.
In the course of a few minutes the little grove was sighted, and as the horses broke into a gallop, Tadeo, who was looking intently toward their intended resting-place, uttered an exclamation of vexation, and pulled up his horse, almost throwing him upon his haunches.
“Maldito! see, a fire!”
“Sure enough, some one is before us. But there can be no danger. Let’s advance. We must have water, and will, if I have to fight for it!” impatiently exclaimed Canelo, clapping spurs to his horse’s side, and charging ahead, closely followed by Tadeo.
Then they heard a report, succeeded in a few moments by another, and again they halted. By this time they were close enough to the spring to note the struggle going on between two men, and then, as they fell to the ground, another puff of smoke came, followed by a report, and the uppermost combatant fell backward with a wild yell.
After waiting for a few minutes, and seeing nothing to occasion further alarm, the two travelers approached the spring, with arms in readiness, and sheltered behind their horses’ bodies.
There was no need of this caution, however, as they soon found, and as but one of the three men showed any signs of life, they at once set about restoring him. The first words that Marcos Sayosa spoke when he once more opened his eyes, were of Tomas Ventura; then noting the old man lying apparently dead, the young miner rushed to his side, not heeding the astonishment that was pictured upon the face of the two travelers.
On examination, they found that although very badly wounded, Ventura was still alive, and set about restoring him. For a long time all efforts were futile, but then the old man opened his eyes, and when they rested upon Augustin Canelo, he exclaimed:
“Holy Virgin, it is he!”
“And are you indeed Tomas Ventura?” eagerly asked Canelo.
“Yes, yes, but I shan’t tell you; you would kill him! Yes, you would kill the boy, so you could get his wealth. Ah-ha, I know you—I know you well. You wanted me to murder the babe, but I fooled you; ha! ha! ha! yes, I deceived you!” screamed Tomas Ventura, wildly.
“Then he lives—you did not kill him? The child, I mean?”
“Yes, yes, I did—I did kill him! Marcos, Marcos, come here, or he will murder you because you stand between him and wealth. Come, let us go to Senora Canelo, your mother, Marcos; she will protect you!”
“Peace, tio, no one will harm you now. These gentlemen are friends. They saved our lives, don’t you remember?” said the youth, soothingly.
“No, I tell you, no! He is your deadly enemy, that man is. He is your uncle, and hired me to kill you, but I deceived him, and now you will be rich—rich, and so will Carlita!”
“This is not altogether raving, senor,” said Canelo, to Marcos, as the latter glanced at him. “But we can not explain now. When we get to the hacienda, I will do so. Do you think he could be borne in a litter?”
“Yes, yes, I must bear it! I must see the Senora Canelo before I die, to tell her all I know,” cried Ventura, eagerly.
“Don Augustin, what does this mean?” asked Tadeo Campos.
“You hear. It is true what he says. I did hire him to dispatch Felipe Canelo, and if he speaks true, then this man must be the real heir.”
“The features are the same as his father’s. Holy Mother, if it should be true!” murmured Campos, placing a hand upon the shoulder of the astonished youth, and keenly scrutinizing every feature.
“Felipe Canelo—what do you mean? Who am I?” he faltered.
“We shall soon see. But come. We must fix a litter between two horses, and convey Ventura to the hacienda. There is no time to lose,” returned Canelo.
The litter was soon formed, and the wounded man placed in it. Before they started, the body of Sylva Cohecho was examined, but nothing of any importance discovered. Canelo recognized him as one of the Jarochos who had belonged to his band. He was left where he had fallen, to feed the zopilate or coyote, a fitting end for the brutal traitor and murderer.
As they rounded the pile of granite, the concealed horse that had belonged to Cohecho was discovered by his whickering, and then the party were again remounted, and able to travel at a tolerable rate without inconvenience. It was some time after dark when they reached the hacienda, and while the wounded man was being cared for, Tadeo Campos proceeded to break the news to Senora Canelo.
He found the three sitting together, and, as Felipe had confessed his fault to the elder lady also, his task was far less difficult than he had anticipated. This he learned before he told his story, and, thus set right, he narrated what he had overheard, and the resolution he had come to, of searching out the uncle, Augustin Canelo, and how he had accomplished it; not, however, without many interruptions from his hearers. He dared not tell all at once, but hinted that it was barely possible the missing son might be found yet. Indeed, that he was almost certain of his being yet alive and well.
In the meantime, Augustin Canelo had been closely questioning Tomas Ventura, who was now perfectly sensible, and was finally convinced that the youth we have known as Marcos Sayosa was none other than the long-mourned-for Felipe Canelo.
The astonishment of the latter, who heard it all, may be better imagined than described, when he found that he was the brother of the beautiful Luisa who had so deeply interested him, and that the handsome, stately lady was his mother.
On the next day the entire party collected, and all matters were fully cleared up, although it was a painful meeting between the injured mother and the murderer of her husband. No further doubt remained as to the identity of Marcos, or Felipe, as we must now call him, and he was warmly, almost wildly, welcomed by his mother and sister.
And the one who had believed himself the stolen son was not the least happy among them, although his birth and parentage were once more shrouded in mystery. All Canelo could tell him was that he had been taken by a detachment under Lopez Romulo, or Barajo, in an attack in which all but he had been slain by the Jarochos. For what he was spared, could not now be told.
Canelo had been threatened with death with the demands of the priest and Romulo, and it was then that the letter was written, and the youth deceived as to his parentage. After his departure, Canelo had been confined in the cell with the knowledge of only Andrez beside the two confederates; it being given out that he had died, and was buried, at his own request, by the priest and Romulo.
The youth once more took his name of Barana, but, to prevent confusion, changed Felipe into Florencio, and some two months after the discovery of the real heir, there was a double wedding, in which Felipe and Carlita, Florencio and Luisa, played the leading parts, and it is on record that neither of the quartette ever had cause to regret the act.
Tomas Ventura recovered from his wound, and lived to play with the children of his children, as he called Felipe and Carlita, dying at a “green old age,” outliving Tadeo Campos, who, however, taught Felipe junior how to ride and swim.
Augustin Canelo entered a monastery, but did not live long after renouncing the world, his constitution being undermined by the tortures he had endured at the hands of the fiendish padre Gayferos.
Felipe made good use of his mining experience by discovering a rich silver lode upon his own land, and was very successful in working it.
Lucas Planillas was not forgotten by Felipe, who made him his head mandorne upon his silver mine, and the majority of his comrades who had borne the “Scarlet Shoulder” knots were employed by him as workmen.
“And so we leave them, in peace and happiness.”
THE END.