sound, and down came the rafters, sending another column of flame to
light up the features of men rescued not an instant too soon from the
death that awaited them.

"My God!" cried Sergeant Lee, "this is old Feeny,--and yet alive."

Together the two raised the senseless form, bore it out into the open
space, laid it gently beside their first discovery, and ran back for
the next, a big, heavy, bulky shape in loose and blood-stained
garments. It took all their strength to lug it forth. Then the
lieutenant bent by the side of the slowly recovering civilian.

"Are there any more we can reach?" he questioned eagerly, his heart
beating madly.

"No,--too late!--others were inside when the roof fell in. More
water,--more water!"

Sergeant Lee sprang to the _ollas_, gleaming there in the fire-light,
and brought back a brimming dipper, holding it to the poor fellow's
parched lips until he could drink no more, then slashing away the
thongs with which he was bound.

"This is Greaser work," he cried. "How could they have left you alive?
Where are Moreno's people? Who's done this, anyhow?"

"Pasqual Morales. Moreno was in it, too. 'Twas the paymaster they were
laying for; but they've killed Ned Harvey and got his sisters,--old
Harvey's children--from Tucson."