There was a cry from Secretary Gibbs, "Look yer. Some fellar has been
jumping us, boys. See these notices."

There were two notices on canvas affixed to the rock, claiming the
ground, and signed by Pedro, Manuel, Miguel, Wiles, and Roscommon.

"This was done, Doctor, while your trustworthy Greaser locater,--d--n
him,--lay there drunk. What's to be done now?"

But the Doctor was making his way to the unfortunate cause of their
defeat, lying there quite mute to their reproaches. The others followed
him.

The Doctor knelt beside Concho, unrolled him, placed his hand upon his
wrist, his ear over his heart, and then said:

"Dead."

"Of course. He got medicine of you last night. This comes of your d----d
heroic practice."

But the Doctor was too much occupied to heed the speaker's raillery. He
had peered into Concho's protuberant eye, opened his mouth, and gazed at
the swollen tongue, and then suddenly rose to his feet.

"Tear down those notices, boys, but keep them. Put up your own. Don't
be alarmed, you will not be interfered with, for here is murder added to
robbery."

"Murder?"