at present," said Ballard, gravely, "or nothing more than to
ask him a question or two." He turned upon the Mexican, who was still
standing statue-like with his back to the low cliff of the path ledge.
"Did you kill Macpherson?--as well as Braithwaite and Sanderson?"

"I kill-a dem all," was the cool reply. "You say--he all say--'I make-a
da dam.' I'll say: '_Caramba!_ You _no_ make-a da dam w'at da Colonel no
want for you to make.' Dass all."

"So it was you who hit Bromley on the head and knocked him into the
canyon?"

The statuesque foreman showed his teeth. "Dat was one bad _mees_take.
I'll been try for knock _you_ on da haid, dat time, for sure, Senor
Ballar'."

"And you were wearing that rain-coat when you did it?"

The Mexican nodded. "I'll wear heem h-always w'en da sun gone down--same
like-a da Colonel."

"Also, you were wearing it that other night, when you heaved a stone
down on my office roof?"

Another nod.

"But on the night when you scared Hoskins and made him double up his
train on Dead Man's Curve, you didn't wear it; you wore a shooting-coat
and a cap like the one Braithwaite used to wear."

The posing statue laughed hardily. "Dat was one--w'at you call
heem?--one beeg joke. I'll been like to make dat 'Oskins break hees
h'own neck, _si_: hees talk too much 'bout da man w'at drown' heself."

"And the Carson business: you were mixed up in that, too?"

"Dat was one _mees_take, al-so; one ver' beeg _mees_take. I'll hire dat
dam'-fool Carson to shoot da ditch. I t'ink you and da beeg h-Irishman
take-a da trail and Carson keel you. Carson, he'll take-a da money, and
make for leetle scheme to steal cattle. Som' day I keel heem for dat."

"Not in this world," cut in Ballard, briefly. "You're out of the game,
from this on." And then, determined to be at the bottom of the final
mystery: "You played the spy on Mr. Wingfield, Bromley, Blacklock and me
one afternoon when we were talking about these deviltries. Afterward,
you went up to Castle 'Cadia. That evening Mr. Wingfield nearly lost his
life. Did you have a hand in that?"

Again the Mexican laughed. "Senor Wingfiel' he is know too moch. Som'
day he is make me ver' sorry for myself. So I'll hide be'ind dat
fornace, and give heem one leetle push, so"--with the appropriate
gesture.

"That is all," said Ballard, curtly. And then to the colonel: "I think
we'd better be moving over to the other side. The ladies will be
anxious. Jerry, take that fe