The doctor laughed as he came forward with a basin of water and
bandages.

"I'm afraid he'll be whiter than he need be if I don't stop that
bleeding. I think we're ready for it now, Mr. Gordon."

"All right. It's only a scratch," answered Gordon indifferently.

Pesquiera, feeling that he was out of the picture, departed in search of
a hotel for the night. He was conscious of a strong admiration for this
fair brown-faced Anglo-Saxon who faced death so lightly for one of his
men. Whatever else he might prove to be, Richard Gordon was a man.

The New Mexican had an uneasy prescience that his mission was foredoomed
to failure and that it might start currents destined to affect potently
the lives of many in the Rio Chama Valley.




CHAPTER II

THE TWO GRANTS


The clock in the depot tower registered just twelve, and the noon
whistles were blowing when Pesquiera knocked at apartment 14, of the
Gold Nugget Rooming-House.