sisters who so easily forgot how to talk. The fragrance of the old
days wrapped themselves around him, and although he had ceased to pine
for his black-eyed Carmencita-well, it would be nice if he chanced to
see her again. Spurring his mount into an easy canter he swept down to
and across the river, fording it where he had crossed it when pursuing
Tamale Jose.

The town lay indolent under the Mexican night, and the strumming
of guitars and the tinkle of spurs and tiny bells softly echoed from
several houses. The convent of St. Maria lay indistinct in its heavy
shadows and the little church farther up the dusty street showed dim
lights in its stained windows. Off to the north became audible the
rhythmic beat of a horse and soon a cowboy swept past the convent with
a mocking bow.

He clattered across the stone-paved plaza and threw his
mount back on its haunches as he stopped before a house. Glancing
around and determining to find out a few facts as soon as possible, he
rode up to the low door and pounded upon it with the butt of his Colt.
After waiting for possibly half a minute and receiving no response he
hammered a tune upon it with two Colts and had the satisfaction of
seeing half a score of heads protrude from the windows in the nearby
houses.

"If I could scare up another gun I might get th' whole blamed town
up," he grumbled whimsically, and fell on the door with another tune.

"Who is it?" came from within. The voice was distinctly feminine and
Hopalong winked to himself in congratulation.