that stretched between them and the distant Santa Maria. Over to
the east the loftiest crags of the Christobal were still faintly
tinged by the last touch of departed day. Southward still, beyond the
narrow and tortuous pass, the range rose high and precipitous, covered
and fringed with black masses of cedar, stunted pine, and juniper.
North of west, on the line of the now invisible road, and far out
towards the Gila, a faint light was just twinkling. There lay
Ceralvo's, and nowhere else, save where the embers of the cook fire
still glowed in a deep crevice among the rocks, was there light of any
kind to be seen. A lonely spot was this in which to spend one's days,
yet the soldier in charge seemed in no wise oppressed with sense of
isolation. It was his comrade, sitting moodily on a convenient rock,
elbows on knees and chin deep buried in his brown and hairy hands, who
seemed brooding over the desolation of his surroundings.

Watching him in silence a moment, a quiet smile of amusement on his
lips, Sergeant Wing sauntered over and placed a friendly hand on the
broad blue shoulder.

"Well, Pikey, are you wishing yourself back in Frisco?"

"I'm wishing myself in Tophet, sergeant; it may be hotter, but it
isn't as lonely as this infernal hole."

"No, it's populous enough, probably," was the response, "and," added
he, with a whimsical smile, "no doubt you've lots of friends there,
Pike."

"Maybe I have, and maybe I haven't. At all events, I've none here. Why
in thunder couldn't you let me look into that business over at
Ceralvo's instead of Jackson?--he gets everything worth having. I'm
shelved for his sake day after day."

"Couldn't send _you_, Pike, on any such quest as that. Those Greasers
have sharp eyes, and one look at your face would convince them that
we'd lost our grip or were in for a funeral. Jackson, now, rides in as
blithe as a May morning,--a May morning out of Arizona, I mean. They
never get the best of him. The only trouble is he stays too long; he
ought to be back here now."

"Humph! he'll be apt to come back in a hurry with Pat Donovan and
those 'C' troop fellows spending their money like water at Ceralvo's."

"You still insist they're over there, do you, Pike? I think they're
not. I flagged old Feeny half an hour ago that they hadn't come
through here."

"Who was that fellow who rode back here with the note?" asked Pike.

"I don't know his name. 'Dutchy' they call him in 'C' troop. He's on
h