o
should lie beyond that ridge." He drove up beside the driver and
pointed with his whip. "Is not that San Lorenzo?" he asked.

"Yes, senor," the man answered, "but I mean to drive around it by the
old wagon trail. It is a large town, and people may be awake. You
will be able to see it from the top of the next hill."

The cavalcade stopped at the summit of the ridge and the men looked
down into the silent village. It was like the others they had passed,
with a few houses built round a square of grass that could hardly be
recognized as a plaza, except for the church on its one side, and the
huge wooden cross planted in its centre. From the top of the hill they
could see that the greater number of the houses were in darkness, but
in a large building of two stories lights were shining from every
window.

"That is the comandancia," said the driver, shaking his head. "They
are still awake. It is a telegraph station."

"Great Scott!" exclaimed MacWilliams. "We forgot the telegraph. They
may have sent word to head us off already."

"Nine o'clock is not so very late," said Clay. "It may mean nothing."

"We had better make sure, though," MacWilliams answered, jumping to the
ground. "Lend me your pony, Ted, and take my place. I'll run in there
and dust around and see what's up. I'll join you on the other side of
the town after you get back to the main road."

"Wait a minute," said Clay. "What do you mean to do?"

"I can't tell till I get there, but I'll try to find out how much they
know. Don't you be afraid. I'll run fast enough if there's any sign
of trouble. And if you come across a telegraph wire, cut it. The
message may not have gone over yet."

The two women in the carriage had parted the flaps of the hoods and
were trying to hear what was being said, but could not understand, and
Langham explained to them that they were about to make a slight detour
to avoid San Lorenzo while MacWilliams was going into it to
reconnoitre. He asked if they were comfortable, and assured them that
the greater part of the ride was over, and that there was a good road
from San Lorenzo to the sea.

MacWilliams rode down into the village along the main trail, and threw
his reins over a post in front of the comandancia. He mounted boldly
to the second floor of the building and stopped at the head of the
stairs, in front of an open door. There were three men in the room
before him, one an elderly man, whom he rightly