with a fringe of sash, and close-fitting trousers spreading wide
at the bottom. There were men passing in the street, also several
Mexicans lounging against the hitching-rail at the curb.

"Did you see him? Where did he go?" whispered Thorne, as he joined
Gale. "Those Greasers out there with the cartridge belts crossed
over their breasts--they are rebels."

"I think he went into the saloon," replied Dick. "He had a gun,
but for all I can see the Greasers out there are unarmed."

"Never believe it! There! Look, Dick! That fellow's a guard,
though he seems so unconcerned. See, he has a short carbine, almost
concealed....There's another Greaser farther down the path. I'm
afraid Rojas has the house spotted."

"If we could only be sure."

"I'm sure, Dick. Let's cross the hall; I want to see how it looks
from the other side of the house."

Gale followed Thorne out of the restaurant into the high-ceiled
corridor which evidently divided the hotel, opening into the street
and running back to a patio. A few dim, yellow lamps flickered.
A Mexican with a blanket round his shoulders stood in the front entrance.
Back toward the patio there were sounds of boots on the stone floor.
Shadows flitted across that end of the corridor. Thorne entered a huge
chamber which was even more poorly lighted than the hall. It contained
a table littered with papers, a few high-backed chairs, a couple of
couches, and was evidently a parlor.