" inquired Jo.

"Ah, yes, Senor. I can make such coffee as the Holy Father would be
pleased to drink," he replied with fervor.

"Not too strong because it keeps me awake," protested Tom.

"No, no, Senor Thomas," replied Manuello with a sweeping bow, "the
coffee I make is very soothing. It will give you a long, soft sleep."
There was an undertone of subtle irony that was entirely lost upon the
two straightforward boys.

"That's a good fellow, Manuello," said Jo, cordially, and he handed the
coffee pot filled with water to the Mexican, who went about the
preparation of it with a deftness that showed that he knew what he was
about. Not one of the boys saw him slip a white powder into the coffee
pot. It quickly dissolved and the coffee began to bubble innocently
enough under the eyes of the hunchback Manuello.

Juarez and Jim just then came back from looking after the horses which
were fastened near the wall of rock. As soon as Juarez saw the Mexican
watching over the coffee pot, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"Who made the coffee?" he asked Jo, bluntly.

"Manuello," replied Jo.

"The Senor will find the coffee truly delicious," said the hunchback
with a bow, "only the Mexican knows how to keep its aroma when boiling
it."

"Humph," grunted Juarez, and he went deliberately to the fire and lifted
the coffee pot off and poured its contents on the ground.

"The American does not care for the aroma of your Mexican coffee," he
said coolly.

The Mexican merely gave a peculiar hitch to his shoulder, spat on the
ground and turned away apparently mortally offended as he, no doubt,
was. That part of his scheme had been blocked by the craftiness of
Juarez, but the Captain might make good where his spy had failed.

The Mexican sat back in the shadow on a rock smoking a cigarette, while
the boys ate their supper of beans, meat, bread and coffee. He was the
skeleton at the feast as it were, not only his malignant humor made
itself felt, but there was a sense of depression that they could not
shake off, try as they would.

This was so unusual that they could not account for it. As a rule, they
were jolly and even when danger was impending, they felt a certain
confidence and assurance, but not so tonight.

"What makes us feel so on the bum tonight, do you suppose?" asked Tom.

"Maybe this canyon is haunted," proposed Jo, who had an imaginative
streak in him.

"I tell you the way I figure it," said Jim. "We are not us