The nearest I came to
slumber was just at dawn. I really lost all consciousness of my
surroundings and circumstances, and was only slowly brought to myself by
the sweet singing of innumerable birds in the willows outside the blank
wall. I lay in a half stupor enjoying them. Abruptly their music ceased.
I heard the soft, flat _spat_ of a miniature rifle. The sound was
repeated. I climbed back on my table and drew myself again to a position
of observation.

Old Man Hooper, armed with a .22 calibre rifle, was prowling along the
willows in which fluttered a small band of migratory birds. He was just
drawing bead on a robin. At the report the bird fell. The old man darted
forward with the impetuosity of a boy, although the bird was dead. An
impulse of contempt curled my lips. The old man was childish! Why should
he find pleasure in hunting such harmless creatures? and why should he
take on triumph over retrieving such petty game? But when he reached the
fallen bird he did not pick it up for a possible pot-pie as I thought he
would do. He ground it into the soft earth with the heel of his boot,
stamping on the poor thing again and again. And never have I seen on
human countenance such an expression of satisfied malignity!

I went to my door and looked out. You may be sure that the message I had
received from the unfortunate young lady had not been forgotten; but Old
Man Hooper's cynical delivery of the second paper had rendered me too
cautious to undertake anything without proper reconnaissance. The left
wing about the courtyard seemed to contain two apartments--at least
there were two doors, each with its accompanying window. The window
farthest out was heavily barred. My thrill at this discovery was,
however, slightly dashed by the further observation that also all the
other windows into the courtyard were barred. Still, that was peculiar
in itself, and not attributable--as were the walls and remarkable
transoms--to former necessities of defence. My first thought was to
stroll idly around the courtyard, thus obtaining a closer inspection.
But the moment I stepped into the open a Mexican sauntered into view
and began to water the flowers. I can say no more than that in his hands
that watering pot looked fairly silly. So I turned to the right and
passed through the wicket gate and into the stable yard. It was natural
enough that I should go to look after my own horse.

The stable yard was for the moment empty; but as I wal