is color had improved and his voice grown stronger since
Jessica's arrival; and he was able to take the cup of coffee which she
made him. This was more palatable than anything Ferd had prepared and
stimulated him still further. For a few moments after he had taken it
he felt so improved that he almost gave up the doing of that for which
he had summoned her. But a sudden return of pain again alarmed him,
and as soon as that spasm was past, he motioned her to the bedside.

"In the cupboard--look, quick!" he whispered, pointing to a set of
shelves built upon the wall and behind whose locked doors Pedro had
been accustomed to store his baskets.

Jessica tried the little door, which refused to open, and to her
inquiry for the key, Antonio pointed to his own pillow. After a slight
hesitation she approached and secured the key from beneath it; but
when she had opened the cupboard found that all the Indian's exquisite
weaving had been removed. In its place was the metal-pointed staff,
with its shank broken in half, and she exclaimed, indignantly:

"Oh! how could you do that, Antonio? And how could you be so mean as
to take it from two children?"

"Ha! Once it was all mine--this land. The copper in the canyon, mine,
also. Si. The padres' secret which the shepherd kept was mine----No,
no; not yet!" he broke off, with a sudden, delirious scream, fancying
he saw the head of a man appearing without the door.

His outcry set Jessica shivering with fear at being alone in that
isolated spot with a possible madman; but a second glance into his
pallid face restored her natural courage and assured her that he was
powerless to injure her, even had he wished to do so. Just then, too,
Buster whinnied and she felt that he was company. It sounded as if he
had seen some stable companion of his own and had welcomed it; yet
this could not be, of course, since nobody knew of her whereabouts or
would be likely to come to the mesa now. Therefore, she did not follow
Antonio's glance doorward, but sought at once to relieve his
distress.

"Won't you drink another cup of coffee, Antonio? Or shall I make you a
bit of porridge? There's hot water still in the kettle and I know how.
I've made it for my mother, often, when she was ill; and the little
boys always have it. Oh, I can do it quite well!"

She was so eager to serve him, and the pain had once more so greatly
lessened for the time being, that the late manager graciously
consented, and with s