king we be strangers, yet I am not ashamed of my name. They call
me Antoine Amedo--did you ever hear of such an 'hombre?' My ranche is
just below the mission San Jose, and I have large flocks of sheep and
cattle."

"Antoine Amedo," repeated Dr. Bryant, musingly, and striving, through
the gloom, to scan his features. "You are right; I do not know you,
though your voice is familiar."

"If you have no objection, Senor Americano, I will let my horse picket
awhile, and rest myself; for I have ridden many miles since sunrise,
and not a blessed 'barego' have I smelled."

"You are at liberty to rest as long as you please: consult your own
inclinations." And he turned away to his own horse, yet marked that
the newcomer dismounted with some difficulty.

He changed his own picket, that fresh grass might not be wanting; and
returning to the tree, leaned against its huge body, and watched
the movements of the intruder. They were very slow, as if he were
well-nigh spent with overexertion. He took off his broad hat,
smoothed his hair, then replaced it; adjusted his heavy blanket more
comfortably, and drawing forth a sort of wallet, proceeded to satisfy
the cravings of hunger. He ate but little, and returning the bag or
sack to its hiding-place in the broad girdle which was passed about
his waist beneath the blanket, stretched himself on the ground, with
not even a straggling bough between him and the deep blue vault of
heaven.

No sound broke the silence, save the cropping of the horses as they
grazed near; and, seeking again his grassy couch, Dr. Bryant closed
his eyes, and communed with his own heart. Sleep was now impossible,
and he lay so rapt in thought, that time flew on unheeded. The moon
was shining brightly now, and every object was distinctly seen. He
heard the rustling of leaves and the crush of grass. A moment he
opened his eyes, then closed them, and feigned sleep.

The Mexican had risen, and softly approaching the motionless form,
knelt on the ground beside him, and listened to his breathing. It was
low and regular, as one in quiet slumber. He bent and gazed into the
upturned face--not a muscle quivered or a feature moved. Stealthily a
hand crept round the collar of the cloak, and lifted a heavy lock of
the raven hair. Smoothing it out on the grass, he drew forth a crooked
blade, which, in accordance with the custom of his countrymen,
ever hung in the girdle passed about the waist. It glittered in the
moonlight;