ance or treachery. He could not fathom
the meaning, but he realized that from this man he had nothing to
fear. He slowly reached out his hand, and, when he had taken the
pistol, he put it away in his pocket.

Saxon laughed bitterly.

"So, that's the answer!" he muttered.

Without a word, the painter turned, and walked toward the front of the
cathedral; without a word, Rodman fell in by his side, and walked with
him. When they had gone a square, Saxon was again himself except for a
stonily set face. Rodman was wondering how to apologize. Carter had
never been a liar. If Carter said he had no thought of vengeance, it
was true, and Rodman had insulted him with the surmise.

Finally, the thin man inquired in a different and much softer voice:

"What are you doing in Puerto Frio?"

"It has nothing to do with revenge or punishment," replied Saxon, "and
I don't want to hear intrigues."

A quarter of an hour later, they reached the main plaza, Rodman still
mystified and Saxon walking on aimlessly at his side. He had no
definite destination. Nothing mattered. After a long silence, Rodman
demanded:

"Aren't you taking a chance--risking it in Puerto Frio?"

"I don't know."

There was another pause, broken at last by Rodman:

"Take this from me. Get at once in touch with the American legation,
and keep in touch! Stand on your good behavior. You may get away with
it." He interrupted himself abruptly with the question: "Have you been
keeping posted on South American affairs of late?"

"I don't know who is President," replied Saxon.

"Well, I'll tip you off. The only men who held any direct proof
about--about the $200,000 in gold that left about the same time you
did"--Saxon winced--"went into oblivion with the last revolution. Time
is a great restorer, and so many similar affairs have intervened that
you are probably forgotten. But, if I were you, I would get through
my affairs early and--beat it. It's a wise boy that is not where he
is, when he's wanted by some one he doesn't want."

Saxon made no reply.

"Say," commented the irrepressible revolutionist, as they strolled
into the arcade at the side of the main plaza, "you've changed a bit
in appearance. You're a bit heavier, aren't you?"

Saxon did not seem to hear.

The plaza was gay with the life of the miniature capital. Officers
strolled about in their brightest uniforms, blowing cigarette smoke
and ogling the senoritas, who looked shyly back from under the