who, like his mates,
styled himself "soldier of fortune." But, alas! that high-sounding
title in his case, as in many others, was simply a polite way of
disguising his true calling, to-wit, that of an unscrupulous
adventurer, whose object was to line his own pockets. A fashion has
arisen of late of writing about soldiers of fortune as if they were
noble, Quixotic persons. Those with whom the author has come in
contact, however, have, without exception, been mercenary and
cold-blooded men, to whom the name highway robber could be applied with
far more justice than the higher sounding term. Such men were Jim
Hickey and his two companions, who had flocked like buzzards to the
border at the first word of trouble.

"Waal, thar's that greaser of yours still cuttin' up didoes," drawled
Divver. "What's ther matter with ther coyote, anyhow? Say, Ramon,
ain't that the main station of yer subway, yonder in ther rock pile?"

He pointed to the hollow altar, in which crouched Pete and the
professor. They had heard every word of this conversation, of course,
and its effect upon them may be imagined.

"That, senors, is indeed the entrance to our convenient little
underground river. Ha! ha! an excellent joke on the worthy Colonel
Briggs. He is guarding every point of the border but this one. Of
course, he concluded, in his wise way, that nobody could cross those
barren hills yonder, but, as you know, gentlemen, we go under, and not
over them."

"Trust you greasers?" grinned Rafter, who was a New Englander; "ye're
as slick ez paint, and thet's a fact. But, let's see what in ther name
of juniper scairt thet feller o' yourn. Seems like he's teetotel
abstinence on thet altar."

"Yes, there is a superstition that the mesa is haunted," rejoined
Ramon. "That is the reason why I could never get a man to ascend it
without myself. If you gentlemen noticed the tracks upon the pathway,
you would have seen they went only to the top of the path. Beyond that
my men would in no manner go on the night we came here to reconnoiter."

"That was before you sent the order through fer the arms?" inquired
Hickey.

"_Si, senor_. But now, as you see, everything bids fair to go well,
and----"

"By hemlock!" broke in Rafter's sharp voice, as he drew his pistol,
"thar's two cusses hidin' in ther altar."

The New Englander had separated from the others, and taken a peek over
the edge of the ancient sacrificial device, to ascertain what h