s he prayed I saw his hand go to his pocket, and it
fumbled and felt the money there.

"Begad, he's counting it all," said Sherry, "and now he's giving thanks
for the exact amount, adding his distinguished consideration that the
sum is by three reals greater than any day since Lent began. He promises
to bring some flowers to-morrow for the shrine, and he also swears to
go a pilgrimage to a church of Mary at Guadaloupe, and to be a kind
compadre--By Jove, there you are! He's a compadre--a blind compadre!"

A little while afterwards we were in Becodar's house--a low adobe but of
two rooms with a red light burning over the door, to guard against the
plague. It had a table hanging like a lid from the wall, a stone for
making tortillas, a mortar for grinding red peppers, a crucifix on
the wall, a short sword, a huge pistol, a pair of rusty stirrups, and
several chairs. The chairs seemed to be systematically placed, and it
was quite wonderful to see how the beggar twisted in and out among them
without stumbling. I could not understand this, unless it was that
he wished to practise moving about deftly, that he might be at least
disadvantage in the cafes and public resorts. He never once stirred
them, and I was presently surprised to see that they were all fastened
to the floor. Sherry seemed as astonished as I. From this strangeness
I came to another. Looking up at the walls I saw set in the timber a
number of holes cleanly bored. And in one of the last of these holes was
a peg. Again my eyes shifted. From a nail in one corner of the room
hung a red and white zarape, a bridle, one of those graceless bits which
would wrench the mouth of the wildest horse to agony, and a sombrero.
Something in these things fascinated me. I got up and examined them,
while the blind man was in the other room. Turning them over I saw that
the zarape was pierced with holes-bullet holes. I saw also that it was
stained a deeper red than its own. I turned away, questioning Sherry. He
came and looked, but said nothing, lifting a hand in deprecation. As
we stood so, Becodar appeared again in the doorway, bearing an olla of
pulque and some tortilla sandwiches, made of salad and shreds of meat,
flavoured with garlic. He paused, his face turned towards us, with an
understanding look. His instinct was remarkable. He did not speak, but
came and placed the things he carried near the chairs where we had sat.

Presently I saw some writing on the adobe wall. The