his chance then before Tonia rode back. He fancied she might not
care to see it.

"Throw up your hands," he ordered loudly, stepping out of the wagon-
shed with his Winchester at his shoulder.

There was a quick turn of the figure, but no movement to obey, so the
ranger pumped in the bullets--one--two--three--and then twice more;
for you never could be too sure of bringing down the Cisco Kid. There
was no danger of missing at ten paces, even in that half moonlight.

The old ancestor, asleep on his blanket, was awakened by the shots.
Listening further, he heard a great cry from some man in mortal
distress or anguish, and rose up grumbling at the disturbing ways of
moderns.

The tall, red ghost of a man burst into the /jacal/, reaching one
hand, shaking like a /tule/ reed, for the lantern hanging on its nail.
The other spread a letter on the table.

"Look at this letter, Perez," cried the man. "Who wrote it?"

"/Ah, Dios/! it is Senor Sandridge," mumbled the old man, approaching.
"/Pues, senor/, that letter was written by '/El Chivato/,' as he is
called--by the man of Tonia. They say he is a bad man; I do not know.
While Tonia slept he wrote the letter and sent it by this old hand of
mine to Domingo Sales to be brought to you. Is there anything wrong in
the letter? I am very old; and I did not know. /Valgame Dios/! it is a
very foolish world; and there is nothing in the house to drink--
nothing to drink."

Just then all that Sandridge could think of to do was to go outside
and throw himself face downward in the dust by the side of his
humming-bird, of whom not a feather fluttered. He was not a
/caballero/ by instinct, and he could not understand the niceties of
revenge.

A mile away the rider who had ridden past the wagon-shed struck up a
harsh, untuneful song, the words of which began:

Don't you monkey with my Lulu girl
Or I'll tell you what I'll do--

XII

THE SPHINX APPLE

Twenty miles out from Paradise, and fifteen miles short of Sunrise
City, Bildad Rose, the stage-driver, stopped his team. A furious snow
had been falling all day. Eight inches it measured now, on a level.
The remainder of the road was not without peril in daylight, creeping
along the ribs of a bijou range of ragged mountains. Now, when both
snow and night masked its dangers, further travel was not to be
thought of, said Bildad Rose. So he pulled up his four stout horses,
and delivered to his five passengers oral deductions