The two men shook hands, greeting each other in the Spanish tongue. This
Felix Narveo was well dressed and well groomed, but I recognized him at
once as the Mexican of Fort Leavenworth and Independence and Council
Grove.

There was one man in that company, however, who did not come forward at
all. When I first caught sight of him he was looking at me. I stared
back at him with a boy's curiosity, but he did not take his eyes from me
until I had dropped my own. After that I watched him keenly. He seemed
almost too fair for a Mexican--a tall, spare-built man with black hair,
and eyes so steely blue that they were almost black. Everywhere I saw
him--at the corners of the little crowd and in the thick of it. He was
an easy mark, for he towered above the rest, and, being slender, he
seemed to worm his way quickly from place to place. At sight of him,
Aunty Boone, who had been peering out with shining eyes, drew her head
in as quick as a snake, under the shadow of the wagon cover, and her
eyes grew dull. He had not seen her, but I could see that he was
watching the remainder of us, and especially my uncle; and I began to
feel afraid of him and to wish that he would leave the Plaza. It was
years ago that all this happened, and yet to-day my fear of that man
still sticks in my memory.

When he turned away, suddenly I caught sight of the boy, whom I had
flung out of the church, standing behind him, the boy whom the little
girl had called Marcos. Although his face was dark and the man's was
fair, there was a strong likeness between the two.

This Marcos stared insolently at all of us. Then with a laugh and a
grimace at me, he ran after the man and they disappeared together around