estioned.

"Yes, Mr. Weir. Most of us lawyers here are," he replied politely,
when he had advanced.

"I've some papers I want acknowledged to-night. Must get them into the
mail going down to Bowenville in the morning."

"Only too pleased to facilitate your business, Mr. Weir. My office is
down a few doors."

"Jump in."

"It's but a few steps."

"Then I'll get out here." And the engineer stopped the engine and
descended to the ground.

Along the street open doorways and windows were already beginning to
make yellow panels of lamplight in the thin gloom. The air was still
warm, balmy, scented by the lingering aroma of the greasewood smoke of
supper fires in Mexican ovens. Stars were jeweling the sky. Few
persons moved in the twilight.

One of these was a man who, standing at the door of a native saloon
across the street and a little farther up, had come diagonally over
towards the bank on seeing the engineer halt his car. He walked with a
slouching haste seldom exhibited by a Mexican and gained the spot as
Weir stepped out. There he slackened his pace while he scanned the
American with an intense, slow gaze that the engineer, chancing to
raise his eyes, squarely met.

The Mexicans always looked at him and fell silent when he passed since
he had shown who was master at the dam. In the eyes of some was merely
stupid curiosity, in some a shrinking, and in many a half-veiled
hostility. That did not trouble Weir. In Mexico he had dealt with
recalcitrant workmen of more lawless nature than these. He usually
ignored them altogether now as they no longer were in his employ. But
this man seized his attention.

It was not yet too dark to mark his face as he lounged past, slowly
turning his head about as he progressed until his chin was on his
shoulder, staring back. His look the while remained riveted on Weir--a
steady, contemplative, evil regard. In Chihuahua the engineer had once
seen a notorious local "killer" who had that same gaze.

Martinez had also glanced at the fellow.

"Who is that man? One of the discharged workmen?" Weir asked him, when
moving forward they in turn had passed the Mexican.

"No, I imagine not. At any rate, he doesn't belong in San Mateo or
anywhere hereabouts. I know everybody for fifty miles, for I've been
active in social and political affairs. He's unknown to me. A
stranger." Then a little farther along: "Here is my office, Mr. Weir.
I'll have a light in an instant. Ah, now. Be so goo