ring and adventure. Long
pent-up days in town always made him restless, and the feel of a horse
under him and of distance to be overcome never failed to give him a sense
of well-being.

Crossing a little _arroyo_, he saw a covey of the blue desert quail with
their white crests erect, darting among the rocks and cactus on the
hillside. It was still the close season, but he never thought of that. In
an instant he was all hunter, like a good dog in sight of game. He slipped
from his horse, letting the reins fall to the ground, and went running up
the rocky slope, cleverly using every bit of cover until he came within
range. At the first shot he killed three of the birds, and got another as
they rose and whirred over the hill top. He gathered them up quickly,
stepping on the head of a wounded one, and stuffed them into his pockets.
He was grinning, now, and happy. The bit of excitement had washed from his
mind for the time being the last vestige of worry. He lit a cigarette and
lay on his back to smoke it, stretching out his legs luxuriously, watching
the serene gyrations of a buzzard. When he had extracted the last possible
puff from the tobacco, he went back to his horse and rode on toward
Archulera's ranch, feeling a keen interest in the coarse but substantial
supper which he knew the old man would give him.

His visit this time proceeded just as had all of the others, and he had
never enjoyed one more thoroughly. Again the old man killed a fatted kid
in his honour, and again they had a great feast of fresh brains and tripe
and biscuits and coffee, with the birds, fried in deep lard, as an added
luxury. Catalina served them in silence as usual, but stole now and then a
quick reproachful look at Ramon. Afterward, when the girl had gone, there
were many cigarettes and much talk, as before, Archulera telling over
again the brave wild record of his youth. And, as always, he told, just as
though he had never told it before, the story of how Diego Delcasar had
cheated him out of his interest in a silver mine in the Guadelupe
Mountains. As with each former telling he became this time more
unrestrained in his denunciation of the man who had betrayed him.

"You are not like him," he assured Ramon with passionate earnestness. "You
are generous, honourable! When your uncle is dead--when he is dead, I
say--you will pay me the five thousand dollars which your family owes to
mine. Am I right, _amigo?_"

Ramon, who was listening wit