fallen. The whole side of his
face and body nearest Don Caesar seemed to drop and sink into itself as
suddenly. At the same moment, and without a word, he slipped through
Don Caesar's outstretched hands to the ground. Don Caesar bent quickly
over him, but no longer than to satisfy himself that he lived and
breathed, although helpless. He then caught up the fallen letter, and,
glancing over it with flashing eyes, thrust it and the few specimens in
his pocket. He then sprang to his feet, so transformed with energy and
intelligence that he seemed to have added the lost vitality of the man
before him to his own. He glanced quickly up and down the highway.
Every moment to him was precious now; but he could not leave the
stricken man in the dust of the road; nor could he carry him to the
house; nor, having alarmed his daughters, could he abandon his
helplessness to their feeble arms. He remembered that his horse was
still tied to the garden fence. He would fetch it, and carry the
unfortunate man across the saddle to the gate. He lifted him with
difficulty to the boulder, and ran rapidly up the road in the direction
of his tethered steed. He had not proceeded far when he heard the
noise of wheels behind him. It was the up stage coming furiously
along. He would have called to the driver for assistance, but even
through that fast-sweeping cloud of dust and motion he could see that
the man was utterly oblivious of anything but the speed of his rushing
chariot, and had even risen in his box to lash the infuriated and
frightened animals forward.

An hour later, when the coach drew up at the Red Dog Hotel, the driver
descended from the box, white, but taciturn. When he had swallowed a
glass of whiskey at a single gulp, he turned to the astonished express
agent, who had followed him in.

"One of two things, Jim, hez got to happen," he said, huskily. "Either
that there rock hez got to get off the road, or I have. I've seed HIM
on it agin!"

CHAPTER IV

No further particulars of the invalid's second attack were known than
those furnished by Don Caesar's brief statement, that he had found him
lying insensible on the boulder. This seemed perfectly consistent with
the theory of Dr. Duchesne; and as the young Spaniard left Los Gatos
the next day, he escaped not only the active reporter of the "Record,"
but the perusal of a grateful paragraph in the next day's paper
recording his prompt kindness and courtesy. Dr. Du