arted, the one going to his quartermaster's office and the other to
Garcia's house.

Coronado, although he had spent great part of his life in courting women,
was a bachelor. He had been engaged once in New Mexico and two or three
times in New York, but had always, as he could tell you with a smile, been
disappointed. He now lived with his uncle, that Senor Manuel Garcia whom
Clara has mentioned, a trader with California, an owner of vast estates
and much cattle, and reputed to be one of the richest men in New Mexico.
The two often quarrelled, and the elder had once turned the younger out of
doors, so lively were their dispositions. But as Garcia had lost one by
one all his children, he had at last taken his nephew into permanent
favor, and would, it was said, leave him his property.

The house, a hollow square built of _adobe_ bricks in one story, covered a
vast deal of ground, had spacious rooms and a court big enough to bivouac
a regiment. It was, in fact, not only a dwelling, but a magazine where
Garcia stored his merchandise, and a caravansary where he parked his
wagons. As Coronado lounged into the main doorway he was run against by a
short, pursy old gentleman who was rushing out.

"Ah! there you are!" exclaimed the old gentleman, in Spanish. "O you pig!
you dog! you never are here. O Madre de Dios! how I have needed you! There
is no time to lose. Enter at once."

A dyspeptic, worn with work and anxieties, his nervous system shattered,
Garcia was subject to fits of petulance which were ludicrous. In these
rages he called everybody who would bear it pigs, dogs, and other more
unsavory nicknames. Coronado bore it because thus he got his living, and
got it without much labor.

"I want you," gasped Garcia, seizing the young man by the arm and dragging
him into a private room. "I want to speak to you in confidence--in
confidence, mind you, in confidence--about Munoz."

"I have heard of it," said Coronado, as the old man stopped to catch his
breath.

"Heard of it!" exclaimed Garcia, in such consternation that he turned
yellow, which was his way of turning pale. "Has the news got here? O Madre
de Dios!"

"Yes, I was at our little cousin's this evening. It is an ugly affair."

"And _she_ knows it?" groaned the old man. "O Madre de Dios!"

"She told me of it. She is going there. I did the best I could. She was
about to go overland, in charge of the American, Thurstane. I broke that
up. I persuaded her to go by