fable, he discovers it is beyond his reach. What is worse still,
another, taller than he, and who can reach higher, is likely to gather
it.

Ever since the arrival of Walt Wilder in the valley he has been watching
the movements of the latter.

Not without observing that between the great Texan hunter and the little
Mexican _muchacha_ there has sprung up an attachment of a suspicious
nature.

He has not heard them express it in speech, for in this way they cannot
communicate with one another; but certain looks and gestures exchanged,
unintelligible to others, have been easily interpreted by the Indian as
the signs of a secret and mutual understanding between them.

They have driven the poor peon well nigh distracted with jealousy--felt
all the keener from its being his first experience of it, all the
angrier from consciousness of his own honest love--while he believes
that of the intruder to have a different intent.

As the days and hours pass he observes new incidents to sharpen his
suspicions and strengthen his jealous ire.

In fine, he arrives at the conclusion that Conchita--long loved by him,
long vainly solicited--has surrendered her heart to the gigantic Texan,
who like a sinister shadow, a ghoul, a very ogre, has chanced across the
sunlight of his path.

Under the circumstances, what is he to do? He is powerful in passion,
but weak in physical strength. Compared with his rival, he is nought.
In a conflict the Texan would crush him, squeeze the breath out of his
body, as a grizzly bear would that of a prairie squirrel or ground
gopher.

He does not show open antagonism--does not think of it. He knows it
would but end in his ruin--his utter annihilation.

Still, he is not despairing.

With the instincts peculiar to his race, he contemplates revenge. All
his idle hours are spent brooding over plans to frustrate the designs of
his rival--in short, to put him out of the way altogether.

More than once has a thought of poison passed through his mind as the
surest way of effecting his fiendish purpose, as also the safest; and
upon this mode of killing the Texan he has at length determined.

That very day he has been engaged in making ready for the deed--
preparing the potion. Certain plants he has found growing in the
valley, well known among his people as poisonous, will furnish him with
the means of death--a slow, lingering death, therefore all the surer to
avert suspicion from the hand that has d