“To protect me?” queried Clara, her face lighting up with a grateful smile, so innocent and frank was she.  Then she turned grave, again, and added, “I am sorry.”

Thankful for these last words, but nevertheless quite miserable, the youngster worshipped her and trembled for her.

This conversation had been carried on in a quiet tone, so that the others of the party had not overheard it, not even the watchful Coronado.

“It is too unfortunate,” said Clara, turning to them, “Lieutenant Thurstane cannot go with us.”

Garcia and Coronado exchanged a look which said, “Thank—­the devil!”

CHAPTER IV.

The next day brought news of an obstacle to the march of the wagon train through Santa Anna and Rio Arriba.

It was reported that the audacious and savage Apache chieftain, Manga Colorada, or Red Sleeve, under pretence of wanting to make a treaty with the Americans, had approached within sixty miles of Santa Fe to the west, and camped there, on the route to the San Juan country, not making treaties at all, but simply making hot beefsteaks out of Mexican cattle and cold carcasses out of Mexican rancheros.

“We shall have to get those fellows off that trail and put them across the Bernalillo route,” said Coronado to Garcia.

“The pigs! the dogs! the wicked beasts! the devils!” barked the old man, dancing about the room in a rage.  After a while he dropped breathless into a chair and looked eagerly at his nephew for help.

“It will cost at least another thousand,” observed the younger man.

“You have had two thousand,” shuddered Garcia.  “You were to do the whole accursed job with that.”

“I did not count on Manga Colorada.  Besides, I have given a thousand to our little cousin.  I must keep a thousand to meet the chances that may come.  There are men to be bribed.”

Garcia groaned, hesitated, decided, went to some hoard which he had put aside for great needs, counted out a hundred American eagles, toyed with them, wept over them, and brought them to Coronado.

“Will that do?” he asked.  “It must do.  There is no more.”

“I will try with that,” said the nephew.  “Now let me have a few good men and your best horses.  I want to see them all before I trust myself with them.”

Coronado felt himself in a position to dictate, and it was curious to see how quick he put on magisterial airs; he was one of those who enjoy authority, though little and brief.

“Accursed beast!” thought Garcia, who did not dare just now to break out with his “pig, dog,” etc.  “He wants me to pay everything.  The thousand ought to be enough for men and horses and all.  Why not poison the girl at once, and save all this money?  If he had the spirit of a man!  O Madre de Dios!  Madre de Dios!  What extremities! what extremities!”

But Garcia was like a good many of us; his thoughts were worse than his deeds and words.  While he was cogitating thus savagely, he was saying aloud, “My son, my dear Carlos, come and choose for yourself.”