ny use for it," said Genesmere.

"To be sure, it lay off the road of travel," Luis assented. And of
course Don Ruz knew all that was needful--how to find it. He knew what
people said--did he not? Father Rafael, Don Ramon, everybody? Lolita
perhaps had told him? And that if the cross ever rose entirely above the
water, that was a sign all other water-holes in the region were empty.
Therefore it was a good warning for travellers, since by it they could
judge how much water to carry on a journey. But certainly he and Lolita
were surprised to see how low the Tinaja had fallen to-day. No doubt
what the Indians said about the great underground snake that came and
sucked all the wells dry in the lower country, and in consequence was
nearly satisfied before he reached the Tinaja, was untrue.

To this tale of Jesuits and peons the American listened with unexpressed
contempt, caring too little to mention that he had heard some of it
before, or even to say that in the last few days he had crossed the
desert from Tucson and found water on the trail as usual where he
expected. He rode on, leading the way slowly up the canon, suffering the
glib Mexican to talk unanswered. His own suppressed feelings still
smouldered in his eye, still now and then knotted the muscles in his
cheeks; but of Luis's chatter he said his whole opinion in one word, a
single English syllable, which he uttered quietly for his own benefit.
It also benefited Luis. He was familiar with that order of English, and,
overhearing, he understood. It consoled the Mexican to feel how easily
he could play this simple, unskilful American.

They passed through the hundred corpses to the home and the green trees,
where the sun was setting against the little shaking leaves.

"So you will camp here to-night, Don Ruz?" said Luis, perceiving the
American's pack-mules. Genesmere had come over from the mines at Gun
Sight, found the cabin empty, and followed Lolita's and her cousin's
trail, until he had suddenly seen the two from that ledge above the
Tinaja. "You are always welcome to what we have at our camp, you know,
Don Ruz. All that is mine is yours also. To-night it is probably
frijoles. But no doubt you have white flour here." He was giving his
pony water from the barrel, and next he threw the saddle on and mounted.
"I must be going back, or they will decide I am not coming till
to-morrow, and quickly eat my supper." He spoke jauntily from his horse,
arm akimbo, natty sho