l of the enclosure looked out upon a
steep slope of marl, almost a precipice, which slanted sheer into the
boiling flood of the San Juan. To this crevice Texas dragged one naked
carcass after another, bundled it through, launched it with a vigorous
shove, and then watched it with a pantherish grin, licking his chops as it
were, as it rolled down the steep, splashed into the river, and set out on
its swift voyage toward the Pacific.

"I s'pose you'll want to dig a hole for _him_" he said, coming into the
Casa and looking wistfully at the body of poor young Shubert.

Sergeant Meyer motioned him to go away. Thurstane was entering in his
journal an inventory of the deceased soldier's effects having already made
a minute of the date and cause of his death. These with other facts, such
as name, age, physical description, birthplace, time of service, amount of
pay due, balance of clothing-account and stoppages, must be more or less
repeated on various records, such as the descriptive book of the company,
the daily return, the monthly return, the quarterly return, the
muster-roll from which the name would be dropped, and the final statements
which were to go to the Adjutant-General and the Paymaster-General. Even
in the desert the monstrous accountability system of the army lived and
burgeoned.

Nothing of importance happened until about noon, when the sentinel on the
outer wall announced that the Apaches were approaching in force, and
Thurstane gave orders to barricade one of the doors of the Casa with some
large blocks of adobe, saying to himself, "I ought to have done it
before."

This work well under way, he hastened to the brow of the hill and
reconnoitred the enemy.

"They are not going to attack," said Coronado. "They are going to torture
the girl Pepita."

Thurstane turned away sick at heart, observing, "I must keep the women in
the Casa."

CHAPTER XXIV.

When Thurstane, turning his back on the torture scene, had ascended to the
roof of the Casa, he found the ladies excited and anxious.

"What is the matter?" asked Clara at once, taking hold of his sleeve with
the tips of her fingers, in a caressing, appealing way, which was common
with her when talking to those she liked.

Ordinarily our officer was a truth-teller; indeed, there was nothing which
came more awkwardly to him than deception; he hated and despised it as if
it were a personage, a criminal, an Indian. But here was a case where he
must st