wing all, and
is anxious about the fortunes of his Mexican friend, that for the time
seem adverse.

"No," is Colonel Miranda's response to his appeal. "Not now, Senor Don
Francisco. Our good doctor here places an embargo on any further
conversation for the present. The tale I have to tell might too much
excite you. Therefore let it rest untold till you are stronger and more
able to hear it rehearsed. Now, _amigo_, we must leave you alone, or
rather, I should say, in the best of good company, for such has your
worthy comrade, the Senor Wilder, proved himself to be. No doubt you'll
be anxious to have a word with one who, while your life was in danger,
would have sacrificed his own to save it. Don Prospero permits him to
remain with you and give such explanations as you may need. The rest of
us are to retire. _Hasta luega_." So saying, Miranda steps out of the
room. "Keep perfectly quiet," adds the ex-army surgeon, preparing to
follow. "Don't excite yourself by any act or thought that may cause a
return of the fever. For in that lies your greatest danger. Feel
confident, _caballero_, that you're in the company of friends. Don
Gaulterio here will be able to convince you of that. Ah! senor, you've
a nurse who feels a great interest in seeing you restored to health."

Pronouncing these last words in undertone and with an accent of
innuendo, accompanied by a smile which the invalid pleasantly
interprets, Don Prospero also retires, leaving his patient alone with
his old caravan guide.

Drawing one of the chairs up to the side of the bed, the ex-Ranger sits
down upon it, saying,--

"Wal, Frank, ain't it wonderful? That we shed both be hyar, neested
snug an' comfortable as two doons in the heart of a hollow tree, arter
all the dangersome scrapes we've been passin' through. Gheehorum! To
think o' thar bein' sech a sweet furtile place lyin' plum centre in the
innermost recesses o' the Staked Plain, whar we purairey men allers
believed thar wun't nothin' 'ceptin' dry desert an' stinkin' sage-bush.
Instead, hyar's a sort o' puradise aroun' us, sech as I used read o'
when I war a youngster in the big Book. Thar's the difference, that in
the Gardin o' Eeden thar's but one woman spoken of; hyar thar's two, one
o' which you yurself hev called a angel, an' ye hain't sayed anythin'
beyont the downright truth. She air a angel, if iver thar was sech on
airth. Now, not detractin' anythin' from her merits, thar's anot