disdainful reply.

Well, that ended going out by the window. Pachuca, having a Latin dislike
for fresh air in the sleeping-room, closed the window angrily and threw
himself down on the mattress. It was hard and there was no pillow. The
blankets he would need to keep him warm. Pachuca, though used to
hardships, dearly loved his comfort. He glanced around the room again; an
old office coat hanging on a peg in a corner caught his eye. It would do
for a pillow. He took it down and rolled it into a wad. As he did so, a
clinking sound became audible. He reached into the pocket--a bunch of keys
and an old hunting-knife came to light.

Pachuca grinned. Well, Heaven was looking out for its own; it was not in
the nature of things that a Pachuca should be trampled in the dust by the
proletariat! Patiently, one after another, he tried the keys--ah, the
right one at last! He turned it and the door opened. Pachuca chuckled
delightedly; it pleased his whimsicality to think that so apparently
unsurmountable a difficulty should be solved in so plain and unromantic a
fashion.

He returned to the window and saw Scott and Miller standing outside
Scott's cabin; saw Scott go inside and the cabin become dark once more and
Miller go on down the street, stopping at the last house near the corral.
Pachuca frowned. Was the fellow going in and going to bed like a
Christian, or was he going to hang around and keep an eye on the car? This
last would be extremely awkward. Miller, however, turned in at the house
and disappeared.

Pachuca spent five minutes at the window watching, but he did not
reappear. "Ah well, one must risk something!" he mused, and glanced down
at the sleeping Yellow. Cautiously and with the soft step of one who has
learned the wisdom of a silent tread, the young man slid down the
stairway. The door at the foot of the stairs was open; it opened outward
and they had tied the dog back of it.

Juan Pachuca opened the hunting-knife and surveyed it in a business-like
fashion. There was a sudden movement of his arm and poor Yellow shivered
and crumpled up noiselessly. Quietly, the knife still in his hand, Pachuca
slipped behind the building and continued his way toward the corral. He
reached the car unhindered and breathed a sigh of relief; the rest would
be plain sailing. A peep into the tonneau showed him that the plunder had
been removed; but that, of course, he had expected. He jumped into the car
and started the engine. At t