t imposed upon the
ranger's warlike ecstasy. Instead of dealing the traditional downward
stroke, the Mexican lunged straight with his knife. Buckley took the
precarious chance, and caught his wrist, fair and firm. Then he
delivered the good Saxon knock-out blow--always so pathetically
disastrous to the fistless Latin races--and Garcia was down and out,
with his head under a clump of prickly pears. The ranger looked up
again to the Queen of the Serpents.

Alvarita scrambled down to the path.

"I'm mighty glad I happened along when I did," said the ranger.

"He--he frightened me so!" cooed Alvarita.

They did not hear the long, low hiss of the python under the shrubs.
Wiliest of the beasts, no doubt he was expressing the humiliation he
felt at having so long dwelt in subjection to this trembling and
colouring mistress of his whom he had deemed so strong and potent and
fearsome.

Then came galloping to the spot the civic authorities; and to them the
ranger awarded the prostrate disturber of the peace, whom they bore
away limply across the saddle of one of their mounts. But Buckley and
Alvarita lingered.

Slowly, slowly they walked. The ranger regained his belt of weapons.
With a fine timidity she begged the indulgence of fingering the great
.45's, with little "Ohs" and "Ahs" of new-born, delicious shyness.

The /canoncito/ was growing dusky. Beyond its terminus in the river
bluff they could see the outer world yet suffused with the waning
glory of sunset.

A scream--a piercing scream of fright from Alvarita. Back she cowered,
and the ready, protecting arm of Buckley formed her refuge. What
terror so dire as to thus beset the close of the reign of the never-
before-daunted Queen?

Across the path there crawled a /caterpillar/--a horrid, fuzzy, two-
inch caterpillar! Truly, Kuku, thou went avenged. Thus abdicated the
Queen of the Serpent Tribe--/viva la reina/!

IX

THE HIGHER ABDICATION

Curly the tramp sidled toward the free-lunch counter. He caught a
fleeting glance from the bartender's eye, and stood still, trying to
look like a business man who had just dined at the Menger and was
waiting for a friend who had promised to pick him up in his motor car.
Curly's histrionic powers were equal to the impersonation; but his
make-up was wanting.

The bartender rounded the bar in a casual way, looking up at the
ceiling as though he was pondering some intricate problem of
kalsomining, and then fell upon Curl