they belonged to the human or brute creation, and without taking the
trouble to inquire into the merits of the case; and, when he found how
matters stood between Pierre and Marmion, he at once espoused the cause
of his dog, and hated the Ranchero as cordially as though the latter had
done him some terrible injury, although the man had never spoken to him,
except to salute him very respectfully every time they met.

That Pierre hated and feared the dog, quite as much as the animal
disliked him, was evident. He would scowl, and say "_Carrajo_," every
time Marmion came near him, and lay his hand on his knife, as if it
would have afforded him infinite pleasure could he have found an
opportunity, to draw it across the dog's throat. Frank had often noticed
this, and consequently, when he one day came suddenly upon the dog,
which was looking wistfully at a piece of meat Pierre was holding out
to him, he was astonished, and not a little alarmed. The Mexican
scowled, as he always did when Frank came near him, and walked away,
hiding the meat under his coat.

"Give it to me, Pierre," said Frank; "Marmion don't like to be fed by
strangers."

The Ranchero kept on as if he were not aware that he had been spoken to;
and his conduct went a long way in confirming the new suspicions that
had suddenly sprung up in Frank's mind.

"Uncle," said he, that evening, after supper, as he joined Mr. Winters
and Archie, who had seated themselves on the porch to enjoy the cool
breeze of evening, "how long do you intend to keep that new Ranchero?"

"As long as he will stay," replied Mr. Winters. "He is one of the most