was sure Pedro was supposed at the time to be on herd
duty. Had Mr. Melton intended that he should be in town, he would have
suggested to Bert that the half-breed might do his commissions for him
and save him the long journey.

Bert's first thought, therefore, was that Pedro was "lying down on his
job" and shirking duty for the sake of a day's debauch in town. It roused
his indignation, as he always hated anything that savored of sneaking or
disloyalty. Still, it was not his affair and Pedro was safe as far as he
was concerned. He would not act as talebearer.

He had never liked the half-breed from the moment that he had met him.
There was a sullen reticence that checked advances, and although he had
always tried to be friendly, Pedro had held him at a distance. He was
tall and swarthy, and, for one of his mixed race, not bad looking. But
there was a furtive shiftiness in his eyes that were set too close
together, that awakened distrust, and although Bert reproached himself
for it and never revealed it by word or look, he could not help an
instinctive aversion.

His first impulse was to approach and speak to the man, who had not seen
him as he came in and was now standing with his back partly toward him,
tossing down a drink that he had poured out generously from the bottle
the bartender placed before him.

Bert checked himself, however, as he saw that Pedro had just greeted a
man who had risen from a table where he had been sitting apart from the
others, as though waiting for some one. An almost imperceptible sign
passed between them that aroused Bert's curiosity. Nor was this lessened
when the newcomer took from his pocket a pouch, such as gold dust is
usually carried in, and slipped it over to Pedro, who placed it carefully
in the breast of his buckskin shirt.

Here was the beginning of a mystery. Why should this man be giving money
to the half-breed? To be sure, it might be in payment of a loan or a
gambling debt. But, if so, why the air of secrecy?

The conversation with Mr. Melton that morning recurred to him. He pulled
his hat over his eyes, half turned in his seat, and, picking up a greasy
pack of cards that lay on the table began to lay them out before him as
in solitaire. But under the brim of his sombrero, his keen eyes stole
frequent glances at the two, who had now adjourned to a table in the
farther corner and were engaged in a low and earnest conversation.

The stranger had before him what seemed to