on the bough before swinging to the
ground.

Ned strengthened his will. He had seen what he had seen. Such things
could not be passed over in times when lives were the forfeit of
weakness. Urrea let himself lightly to the earth, and stooped down for
his rifle. It was not there, and when he straightened up again Ned saw
that his face was ghastly pale in the moonlight. Urrea, with his quick
perceptions, was bound to know from the absence of the rifle that he had
been followed and was caught. His hand went down toward his belt where a
pistol hung, but Ned instantly called from the bush:

"Hands up, Don Francisco, or I shoot!"

His tone was stern and menacing, and Urrea's hands went up by the side
of his head. But the paleness left his face, and his manner became
careless and easy.

"Is that you, Ned?" he called in the most friendly tones. "Is it a joke
that you play upon me? Ah, you Anglo-Saxons, you seem rough in your play
to us Latins."

"It is no joke, Don Francisco. I was never more earnest in my life,"
said Ned, stepping from the bush, but still keeping Urrea covered with
his rifle. "Your merits as a climber of trees are great, but you
interested me more with your wheel of fire. I think I can account now
for your absences, when any fighting with the Mexicans was to be done.
You are a spy and you were signaling with that torch to our enemies."

Urrea laughed lightly, musically, and he regarded Ned with a look of
amusement. It seemed to say to him that he was only a boy, that one so
young was bound to make mistakes, but that the Mexican was not offended
because he was making one now at his cost. The laugh was irritating to
the last degree, and yet it implanted in the boy's mind a doubt, a fear
that he might have been mistaken.

"Signaling to friends, not enemies, you mean," said Urrea. "This forest
ends but a few hundred yards beyond, and I learned when I was scouting
about San Antonio that some allies of ours in this region were waiting
night and day for the news from us to come. I took this method to
communicate with them, a successful method, too, I am happy to say, as
they answered. In a wild region one must do strange things."

His tone was so light, so easy, and it rang so true that Ned hesitated.
But it was only for a moment. Manner could not change substance. He
cleared away the mists and vapors made by Urrea's light tone and easy
assurance, and came back to the core of the matter.

"Don Francisco," h