rom Murgie," suggested the prisoner.

"I? I steal from Murguia?" cried Tiburcio indignantly. "Ask him! Ask
him!"

Murguia was asked. Had the witness ever, on any occasion, robbed him?
They repeated the question several times, and at last the rusty black
wig, which was bowed over a chair, slowly shook in the negative. Perhaps
he had settled a debt with the witness? The wig changed to an
affirmative.

Tiburcio gleamed triumphantly. "An audacious defence!" he exclaimed.
"But luckily for me, Don Anastasio is here."

"Oh, hurry up!" protested Driscoll.

Asked if he knew anything more of the prisoner, witness could not swear
for certain, except that he recognized in the American one of the
guerrillas who had ambushed and slain Captain Maurel near Tampico. Yes,
witness was scouting for the murdered captain at the time. Naturally,
witness was present.

"You wanted proof, Senor Americano, that you crossed the river?" said
Lopez. "Well, are you content now?"

"Go on," Driscoll returned. He was bored. "Some people on earth are
alive yet, but while Tibby is on the stand maybe I killed them too. I
wouldn't swear I didn't."

Murguia was called next, but he did not seem to hear. His body was bent
over his knees, silently trembling. A Dragoon pressed a hand on his
shoulder, but a sobbing groan racked his frame, as of a very sick man
who will not be awakened to his pain. The pause that followed was
uncanny--a syncope in the affairs of men like a gaping grave under
midnight clouds. Lopez spoke again. He regretted that they must intrude
on a fresh and poignant sorrow, but the case in hand was a matter of
state, before which the individual had to give way. It was very logical
and convincing. But the feeble old shoulders made no sign.

Tiburcio leaned over and shook him gently, and whispered in his ear.
Still Murguia did not move. Tiburcio gripped his arm. "You and Rodrigo,"
he said, so low that none could hear, "there was something arranged
between you. What was it? Tell me! Tell me, I say, if you want the
Gringo shot!"

He bent nearer, and against his ear came a muffled sound of lips. When
he straightened, it was to address the court.

If he might ask a question, had they searched the prisoner? They had.
But thoroughly? Thoroughly. But not enough to find anything? No. Then he
would suggest that they had not searched thoroughly. The court seemed
impressed, and Driscoll was fumbled over again. Still they found
nothing.

"Wh