iosity for the moment was fully satisfied, and, without
making any reply, except to mutter something about American bulls under
his breath, he retreated to his dish washing.

"Sarved him right," declared Ham emphatically, as all again resumed
their examination of the skin map.

When the map had been sufficiently examined, Thure again retired into
Mrs. Dickson's tent, where he again concealed the map in the bosom of
his shirt; and when he came out again, apparently without the map, Pedro
smiled knowingly.

Before going to her tent that night Mrs. Dickson sang a number of songs,
and almost weirdly beautiful her voice sounded in the still night air of
that little wilderness valley, concluding with Ham's favorite "Ben
Bolt." Then she bade them all good-night and disappeared into her little
tent.

Mr. Dickson and Thure were to stand guard that night until the moon came
up, which would be about one o'clock in the morning. Consequently, as
soon as Mrs. Dickson retired, all but these two rolled themselves up in
their blankets near the camp-fire and were soon sound asleep. Thure and
Dickson each picked up his rifle and took his station on opposite sides
of the camp and began his long silent vigil.

The skies were overcast with clouds and the darkness was so dense that
the watchers could not see six feet outside of the constantly dimming
circle of the firelight. In a couple of hours the fire had burnt down so
low, that, from where Thure stood near the horses, he could not even see
the white of Mrs. Dickson's tent, although it was not over ten yards
from where he stood; and he was about to step forward to replenish it,
when a dark object leaped by him, so close that he could have touched it
with his outstretched rifle, and disappeared in the darkness before he
could utter a word or throw his gun to his shoulder, and the next
instant the air was rent by a piercing shriek from Pedro, followed by
the flash and the report of his pistol and his yells of fright.

In an instant every man in the camp was on his feet, his rifle in his
hands, calling excitedly: "What is the trouble?" "What has happened?"
and running to where Pedro was rolling about on the ground, calling on
all the saints in the Mexican calendar to protect him, seemingly frantic
with fear.

"Stop that yellin', you Mexican coyote, an' tell us what has happened,
quick," and Ham bent down and, seizing the squirming Pedro by the
shoulders, jerked him to his feet and dra