eeling, I passed
under the gate and entered the courtyard.

It, too, seemed empty. A stable occupied all one side; the other three
were formed by bunk houses and necessary out-buildings. Here, too, dwelt
absolute solitude and absolute silence. It was uncanny, as though one
walked in a vacuum. Everything was neat and shut up and whitewashed and
apparently dead. There were no sounds or signs of occupancy. I was as
much alone as though I had been in the middle of an ocean. My mind, by
now abnormally sensitive and alert, leaped on this idea. For the same
reason, it insisted--lack of life: there were no birds here, not even
_flies_! Of course, said I, gone to bed in the cool of evening: why
should there be? I laughed aloud and hushed suddenly; and then nearly
jumped out of my skin. The thin blue curl of smoke had caught my eye;
and I became aware of the figure of a man seated on the ground, in the
shadow, leaning against the building. The curl of smoke was from his
cigarette. He was wrapped in a _serape_ which blended well with the cool
colour of shadow. My eyes were dazzled with the whitewash--natural
enough--yet the impression of solitude had been so complete. It was
uncanny, as though he had materialized out of the shadow itself. Silly
idea! I ranged my eye along the row of houses, and I saw three other
figures I had missed before, all broodingly immobile, all merged in
shadow, all watching me, all with the insubstantial air of having as I
looked taken body from thin air.

This was too foolish! I dismounted, dropped my horse's reins over his
head, and sauntered to the nearest figure. He was lost in the dusk of
the building and of his Mexican hat. I saw only the gleam of eyes.

"Where will I find Mr. Hooper?" I asked.

The figure waved a long, slim hand toward a wicket gate in one side of
the enclosure. He said no word, nor made another motion; and the other
figures sat as though graved from stone.

After a moment's hesitation I pushed open the wicket gate, and so found
myself in a smaller intimate courtyard of most surprising character. Its
centre was green grass, and about its border grew tall, bright flowers.
A wide verandah ran about three sides. I could see that in the numerous
windows hung white lace curtains. Mind you, this was in Arizona of the
'nineties!

I knocked at the nearest door, and after an interval it opened and I
stood face to face with Old Man Hooper himself.

He proved to be as small as I had t