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THE WATCHER

The Senorita da Cordova, had suddenly leaned forward in an animated
manner and spoke to her father indicating at the same time someone who
was standing under an awning on the other side of the thoroughfare.
Whether the man's presence caused her fright, or mere excitement it was
hard to tell.

"There he is, there he is!" she was heard to exclaim.

Jim followed the direction of her glance, and immediately he jumped to
his feet.

"Come on, Berwick," he cried, "we want that fellow across the street."

Berwick was puzzled but he knew that Jim was no alarmist who would start
on a wild goose chase, without rhyme or reason. He saw the figure across
the way but did not recognize who it was. Thrusting a bill into the
waiter's hands, a procedure the waiter did not resent, he followed Jim
out of the restaurant. As their sudden departure made a slight
commotion, the senorita turned her head and got a fair look at Jim. A
flush of surprise came into her face, and her dark eyes opened wide.

"Why, Father, look at the tall American going out," she whispered; "it
is the senor who saved me from the bandits."

"There are other tall Americans," he said with a smile; "there was a
resemblance but that happens frequently in life, my daughter, the other
man bore no resemblance to his brothers." The senorita shook her dark
head with emphasis.

"It was not nice of Senor James to run away from us, as though we had
the plague; it was certainly very far from nice, and I shall make him
pay some day."

"Senor James," exclaimed her father, a slight frown on his brow; "you
certainly have a remarkable memory, Marie."

"It is not at all wonderful, Father," replied the girl with much spirit;
"did he not save me from that terrible Senor Jenkins and his band? I
shall remember him as long as there is the breath of life in my little
body."

"His memory does not seem to be as retentive as yours," said her father
with quiet sarcasm. The senorita's face flushed at this thrust and she
sat moodily silent for a while, then something happened which changed
the current of her interest.

"Look," she cried, "the man across the street is running. What can be
the matter?"

"It is your friend, Senor James, and his comrade is the matter,"
remarked her father.

Sure enough the two were in fast pursuit of, "the man across the
street," and then they turned a corner but crossing to the further side
of the thoroughfare they were still in vi