nd at once.
I'm pretty good pay for seasonable articles," he finished, in his
journalistic manner.

He had taken a dollar from his pocket and was carelessly tossing it
from hand to hand, nor was he disappointed when Natan fixed his black
eyes greedily upon the coin. Still the lad said nothing, only
pondered in his own dull mind which of two masters it would benefit
him most to serve; and annoyed by this hesitation, Ninian hazarded a
guess:

"Oh, well, if you prefer to work for Antonio Bernal, it's all one to
me."

Natan's mouth flew open and his eyes grew wild:

"You know it, then, already, you?"

"I know many things," was the sententious answer.

"But it is a pity, yes. The so fine man and such a rider. He will ride
no more, poor Antonio, si."

Ninian's blood ran chill, yet he asked, still quietly, though
foreseeing evil he dared not contemplate:

"Who brought the word?"

"Ferd, the dwarf," came the reply, as the dollar exchanged owners.

CHAPTER XIX.

ANTONIO'S CONFESSION

These were the facts: Natan had been grooming the horses, Nimrod and
Buster, when suddenly and soundlessly there appeared before the window
in the stables' rear, the misshapen head and shoulders of typo
Ferdinand Bernal. He was mounted on a snow-white horse and seemed to
the superstitious stable boy to have risen out of the ground. Buster,
also, had appeared to be frightened for a few seconds, though he
speedily recovered his equine calmness and merely whinnied his
delight, while he attempted to secure another mouthful of alfalfa
before the bridle slipped into place over his head.

"Natan, the little captain," whispered Ferd, through the narrow
casement.

"Well, yes; the little captain," returned the other, in a louder tone,
and grinning at his own astuteness in discovering that this was a
white horse so very like the "spook horse" that it might be one and
the same. Some of Antonio's schemes he had fathomed, being himself a
sort of schemer in his own stupid way.

"I want her. She must come. Antonio dies."

"Antonio--fiddles!" retorted the other, contemptuously. Then saw, to
his surprise, that Ferd's head had dropped upon that of his strange
steed and that he was whimpering and sobbing in a pitiful fashion,
well calculated to deceive the unwary. It was at this juncture that,
fancying to see her beloved Buster made ready for her ride, Jessica
ran singing into the stable, and paused amazed at sight of Ferd,
weeping, and