mild sort of excitement in the land he faced, something picturesque
and out of the ordinary. This was to be the finishing touch to his
trip, and he had left his two companions at Albuquerque in order that
he might have to himself all that he could find.

Not many miles to the south of him lay the town which had been the
rendezvous of Tamale Jose, whose weakness had been a liking for other
people's cattle. Well he remembered his first man hunt: the discovery
of the theft, the trail and pursuit and- the ending. He was scarcely
eighteen years of age when that event took place, and the wisdom he
had absorbed then had stood him in good stead many times since. He had
even now a touch of pride at the recollection how, when his older companions
had failed to get Tamale Jose, he with his undeveloped
strategy had gained that end. The fight would never be forgotten, as
it was his first, and no sight of wounds would ever affect him as did
those of Red Connors as he lay huddled up in the dark corner of that
old adobe hut.

He came to himself and laughed again as he thought of
Carmencita, the first girl he had ever known-and the last. With a
boy's impetuosity he had wooed her in a manner far different from that
of the peons who sang beneath her window and talked to her mother. He
had boldly scaled the wall and did his courting in her house, trusting
to luck and to his own ability to avoid being seen. No hidden meaning
lay in his words; he spoke from his heart and with no concealment. And
he remembered the treachery that had forced him, fighting, to the camp
of his outfit; and when he had returned with his friends she had
disappeared.

To this day he hated that mud-walled convent and those