unchy in build, with small,
tottering, uneasy legs, skin mottled like that of a toad, cheeks drooping
and shaking, chin retiring, nose bulbous, one eye a black hollow, the
other filmy and yet shining, expression both dull and cunning, both eager
and cowardly.

The uncle seemed to be even more agitated at the sight of the nephew than
the nephew at the sight of the uncle. For an instant each stared at the
other with a strange expression of anxiety and mistrust. Then Coronado
spoke. The words which he had in his heart were, What are you here for,
you scoundrelly old marplot? The words which he actually uttered were, "My
dear uncle, my benefactor, my more than parent! How delighted I am to see
you! Welcome, welcome!"

The two men grasped each other's arms, and stuck their heads over each
other's shoulders in a pretence of embracing. Perhaps there never was
anything of the kind more curious than the contrast between their
affectionate attitude and the suspicion and aversion painted on their
faces.

"Have you been seen?" asked Coronado as soon as he had closed and locked
the door. "I must contrive to get you away unperceived. Why have you come?
My dear uncle, it was the height of imprudence. It will expose you to
suspicion. Did you not get my letters?"

"Only one," answered Garcia, looking both frightened and obstinate, as if
he were afraid to stay and yet determined not to go. "One from the Mohave
valley."

"But I urged you in that to remain at a distance, until all had been
arranged."

"I know, my son, I know. I thought like you at first. But presently I
became anxious."

"Not suspicious of my good faith!" exclaimed Coronado in a horrified
whisper. "Oh, _that_ is surely impossible."

"No, no--not suspicious--no, no, my son," chattered Garcia eagerly. "But I
began to fear that you needed my help. Things seemed to move so slowly.
Madre de Dios! All across the continent, and nothing done yet."

"Yes, much has been done. I had obstacles. I had people to get rid of.
There was a person who undertook to be lover and protector."

"Is he gone?" inquired the old man anxiously.

"Ask no questions. The less told, the better. I wish to spare you all
responsibility."

"Carlos, you are my son and heir. You deserve everything that I can give.
All shall be yours, my son."

"That Texas Smith of yours is a humbug," broke out Coronado, his mind
reverting to the letter which he had just burned. "I put work on him which
he swor