e his dispositions and his reconnoissance, the sergeant
reported to Thurstane.

"Turn out the animals and let them pasture," said the officer, waking up
promptly to the situation, as a soldier learns to do. "How long will the
grass in the enclosure last them?"

"Not three days, Leftenant."

"To-morrow we will begin to pasture them on the slope. How about fishing?"

"I cannot zay, Leftenant."

"Take a look at the Buchanan boat and see if it can be put together. We
may find a chance to use it."

"Yes, Leftenant."

The Buchanan boat, invented by a United States officer whose name it
bears, is a sack of canvas with a frame of light sticks; when put together
it is about twelve feet long by five broad and three deep, and is capable
of sustaining a weight of two tons. Thurstane, thinking that he might have
rivers to cross in his explorations, had brought one of these coracles. At
present it was a bundle, weighing one hundred and fifty pounds, and
forming the load of a single mule. Meyer got it out, bent it on to its
frame, and found it in good condition.

"Very good," said Thurstane. "Roll it up again and store it safely. We may
want it to-morrow."

Meantime Clara had thought out her problem. In her indignation at Texas
Smith she had contemplated denouncing him before the whole party, and had
found that she had not the courage. She had wanted to make a confidant of
her relative, and had decided that nothing could be more unwise. Aunt
Maria was good, but she lacked practical sense; even Clara, girl as she
was, could see the one fact as well as the other. Her final and sagacious
resolve was to tell the tale to Thurstane alone.

Mrs. Stanley, still jaded through with her forced march, fell asleep
immediately after breakfast. Clara went to the brink of the roof, caught
the officer's eye, and beckoned him to come to her.

"We must not be seen," she whispered when he was by her side. "Come inside
the tower. There has been something dreadful. I must tell you."

Then she narrated how she had surprised and interrupted Texas Smith in his
attempt at murder; for the time she was all Spanish in feeling, and told
the story with fervor, with passion; and the moment she had ended it she
began to cry. Thurstane was so overwhelmed by her emotion that he no more
thought of the danger which he had escaped than if it had been the buzzing
of a mosquito. He longed to comfort her; he dared to put his hand upon her
waist; rather, we shou