young girl cast a hurried glance at the open window and at the gun which
stood in the corner, and then confronted him with clear and steady eyes,
but a paler cheek.

Ah, he began in Spanish, which he himself had taught her as a child,
it was a strange thing, his coming there to-night; but, then, mother of
God! it was a strange, a terrible thing that she had done to him--old
Miguel, her uncle's servant: he that had known her as a muchacha; he
that had lived all his life at the ranch--ay, and whose fathers before
him had lived there all THEIR lives and driven the cattle over the very
spot where she now stood, before the thieving Americans came here! But
he would be calm; yes, the senora should find him calm, even as she
was when she told him to go. He would not speak. No, he--Miguel--would
contain himself; yes, he HAD mastered himself, but could he restrain
others? Ah, yes, OTHERS--that was it. Could he keep Manuel and Pepe and
Dominguez from talking to the milkman--that leaking sieve, that gabbling
brute of a Shipley, for whose sake she had cast off her old servant that
very day?

She looked at him with cold astonishment, but without fear. Was he drunk
with aguardiente, or had his jealousy turned his brain? He continued
gasping, but still pressing his hat against his breast.

Ah, he saw it all! Yes, it was to-day, the day he left. Yes, she had
thought it safe to cast Miguel off now--now that HE was gone!

Without in the least understanding him, the color had leaped to her
cheek, and the consciousness of it made her furious.

"How dare you?" she said, passionately. "What has that stranger to do