down to rest. He would have started homeward, but the country was a
complete desert, the trail led here and there over vast sheets of
trackless rock, and he feared that he might lose his way. Texas Smith and
one of the rancheros had ridden after the Apaches to see whether they kept
the direction which had been agreed upon. One ranchero was slumbering
already, and the third crouched as sentinel.

Coronado could not sleep at once. He thought over his enterprise,
cross-examined his chances of success, studied the invisible courses of
the future. Leave Clara on the plains, to be butchered by Indians, or to
die of starvation? He hardly considered the idea; it was horrible and
repulsive; better marry her. If necessary, force her into a marriage; he
could bring it about somehow; she would be much in his power. Well, he had
got rid of Thurstane; that was a great obstacle removed. Probably, that
fellow being out of sight, he, Coronado, could soon eclipse him in the
girl's estimation. There would be no need of violence; all would go easily
and end in prosperity. Garcia would be furious at the marriage, but Garcia
was a fool to expect any other result.

However, here he was, just at the beginning of things, and by no means
safe from danger. He had two hundred dollars in his boot-legs. Had his
rancheros suspected it? Would they murder him for the money? He hoped not;
he just faintly hoped not; for he was becoming very sleepy; he was asleep.

He was awakened by a noise, or perhaps it was a touch, he scarcely knew
what. He struggled as fiercely and vainly as one who fights against a
nightmare. A dark form was over him, a hard knee was on his breast, hard
knuckles were at his throat, an arm was raised to strike, a weapon was
gleaming.