r. He saw two empty picture frames on
the wall, and, near by, a rope, which he surmised led to the bell in the
cupola, and which some chance had allowed to remain there. Now and then
Ned and one of his comrades of the watch met and exchanged a few words,
but they always spoke in whispers, lest they awaken the sleeping men.
After these brief meetings Ned would return to his watch at the opening.

The character of the night did not change as time trailed its slow
length away. One solid black cloud covered the sky from horizon to
horizon. The wind out of the southwest never ceased to moan, and the
cold rain blew steadily upon the walls and roof of the ruined convent. It
was not a night when either Texans or Mexicans would wish to be abroad,
and, as the chill grew sharper and more penetrating, Ned wrapped one of
his blankets about his shoulders.

As the night advanced, Ned's sense of oppression deepened. He felt once
more as he had felt at the pyramid, that he was among old dead things.
Ghosts could walk here as truly as they could walk on the banks of the
Teotihuacan. Sometimes as the great cloud lightened the least bit he
caught glimpses of the grass and weeds that grew between him and the
broken adobe wall which was about fifteen yards away.

Only an hour more, and the second watch would come on. Ned began to
think of his place on the floor, and of the deep and dreamless sleep
that he knew would be his. Then he was attracted by a glimpse of the
adobe wall. It seemed to him that he had seen a projection, where there
was none before. He looked a second time, and he did not see it. Fancy
played strange tricks at midnight in the enemy's country, and in the
desolate silence.

Ned shook himself. Although a vivid imagination might be excusable at
such a time even in a man, a veteran of many campaigns, he was
essentially an uncompromising realist, and he wished to see facts
exactly as they were. The work upon which he was engaged allowed no time
for the breeding of fancy.

He looked again and there were two projections where he had seen only
one before. They resembled knobs on the adobe wall, rising perhaps half
a foot above it, and the sight troubled Ned. Was fancy to prove too
strong, when he had drilled himself so long to see the real? Was he to
be played with by the imagination, as if he had no will of his own?

He thought once of speaking to the sentinels at the other doors, but he
could not compel himself to do it. T