we had one or two like him."

"I wish we had, sir; those Greasers are worse than no guards at all.
They'll sit there in the corral and smoke _papellitos_ by the hour,
and brag about how they fought their way through the Apaches with
Harvey's mules; but for our purpose they're worse than useless. At the
first sign of an attack they'd be stampeding out into the darkness,
and that's the last we'd see of them. Heard anything further out this
way, sir?"

"Why, confound it! yes. I try to convince myself it's only
imagination; but two or three times, far out there towards the
Picacho, I've heard that whip cracking. I have felt sure there was a
hammering sound, as though some one were pounding on a wagon-tire.
Once I was sure I heard a horse snort. _That_ I was in a measure
expecting. If those fellows mean to attack, they'll come mounted, of
course; but what wagon would they have?"

"One of Ceralvo's, perhaps, to cart off the safe in, if they couldn't
bust into it here."

"There! Hark now, sergeant! didn't you hear?" suddenly spoke the
major, throwing up a warning hand.

Both men held their breath, listening intently. For a moment nothing
but the beating of their own hearts served to give the faintest sound.
Then, out to the west, under the starlit vault of the heavens,
somewhere in that black expanse of desert, plainly and distinctly
there rose the measured sound of iron or stone beating on iron.
Whether it were tire or linch-pin, hame or brake, something metallic