le with the lid off. Any man who
stops S. Yeager to-night is liable to find him a bad hombre. So-long,
general."

He opened the door and stepped out. His heart was jumping queerly. The
impulse was on him to cut across to the cottonwood grove on the dead
run, but he knew this would never do. Instead, he sauntered easily into
the moonlight with the negligence of one who has all night before his
casual steps.

The sharp command of the guard outside slackened his stride.

"Gabriel," he called back over his shoulder without stopping.

"Si, senor. Buenos tardes."

"Buenos."

He moved at a leisurely pace down the street until he was opposite the
cottonwoods. Here he diverged from the dusty road.

"Hope the old scalawag wasn't lying about that cavallo waiting for
Steve. I'm plumb scairt to death till I get out of this here wolf's den.
Me, I'm too tender to monkey with any revolutions. I've knowed it happen
frequent that a man got his roof blowed off for buttin' in where he
wasn't invited." He was still impersonating the old cowman as a vent to
his excitement, which found no expression in the cool, deliberate
motions of his lithe body.

He found the horse in the cottonwoods as Pasquale had promised. Swinging
to the saddle, he cantered down the road to the outskirts of the
village. A sentinel stopped him, and a second time he gave the
countersign. He was just moving forward again when some one emerged from
the darkness back of the sentry and sharply called to him to stop.

Steve knew that voice, would have known it among a thousand. Since he
had no desire at this moment to hold a conversation with Ramon Culvera
he drove his heels into the side of the cow pony. The horse leaped
forward just as a revolver rang out. So close did the shot come to
Yeager that it lifted the sombrero from his head as he dodged.

After he was out of range Yeager laughed. "Pasquale gets his hat back
again--ventilated. Oh, well, it's bad enough to be a horse-thief without
burglarizing a man's haberdashery. You're sure welcome to it, Gabriel."

He kept the horse at a gallop, for he knew he would be pursued. But his
heart was lifted in him, for he was leaving behind him a shameful death.
All Sonora lay before him in which to hide, and in front of him
stretched a distant line beyond which was the U.S.A. and safety.

The bench upon which he was riding dropped to a long roll of hills
stretching to the horizon. The chances were a hundred to one tha