him from the heavily draped window, and sighed as she wondered if her
dashing Americano would storm the house and carry her off like the
knights of old. Finally he had to turn away with heavy and reluctant
heart, promising himself that he would return when no petulant and
sarcastic companions were waiting for him. Then--ah! what dreams youth
knows.

Half an hour ahead of him on another trail rode Juan, smiling with
satisfaction. He had come to San Felippe to get a look at the canyon on
Friday nights, and Martin had given him an excuse entirely unexpected.
For this he was truly grateful, even while he knew that the American
had tried to pick a quarrel with him and thus rid the border of a man
entirely too clever for the good of customs receipts; and failing in
that, had hoped the treacherous canyon trail would gain that end in
another manner. Old Jim Lane's fingers touched wires not one whit more
sensitive than those which had sent Juan Alvarez to look over the San
Miguel--and Lane's wires had been slow this time. When Juan had left the
saloon the night before and had seen Manuel slip away from the group and
ride off into the north, he had known that the ghost would show itself
the following night.

But Juan was to be disappointed. He was still some distance from the
canyon when a snarling bulk landed on the haunches of his horse. He
jerked loose his gun and fired twice and then knew nothing. When he
opened his eyes he lay quietly, trying to figure it out with a head
throbbing with pain from his fall. The cougar must have been desperate
for food to attack a man. He moved his foot and struck something soft
and heavy. His shots had been lucky, but they had not saved him his
horse and a sprained arm and leg. There would be no gauntlet found at
the Big Bend at daylight.