e infuriated and half-frightened ex-vaquero returned the long
knife he had half-drawn from its sheath, and growled surlily: "Go on
then! But keep thou on that side, and I will on this." And so, side by
side, listening, watching, distrustful of all things, but mainly of each
other, they stole back and up into those shadows from which they might
like evil spirits have been poetically evoked.

A half hour passed, in which the east brightened, flashed, and again
melted into gold. And then the sun came up haughtily, and a fog that
had stolen across the summit in the night arose and fled up the mountain
side, tearing its white robes in its guilty haste, and leaving them
fluttering from tree and crag and scar. A thousand tiny blades, nestling
in the crevices of rocks, nurtured in storms and rocked by the trade
winds, stretched their wan and feeble arms toward Him; but Concho
the strong, Concho the brave, Concho the light-hearted spake not nor
stirred.

CHAPTER IV

WHO TOOK IT

There was persistent neighing on the summit. Concho's horse wanted his
breakfast.

This protestation reached the ears of a party ascending the mountain
from its western face. To one of the party it was familiar.

"Why, blank it all, that's Chiquita. That d----d Mexican's lying drunk
somewhere," said the President of the B. M. Co.

"I don't like the look of this at all," said Dr. Guild, as they rode up
beside the indignant animal. "If it had been an American, it might have
been carelessness, but no Mexican ever forgets his beast. Drive ahead,
boys; we may be too late."

In half an hour they came in sight of the ledge below, the crumbled
furnace, and the motionless figure of Concho, wrapped in a blanket,
lying prone in the sunlight.

"I told you so,--drunk!" said the President.

The Doctor looked grave, but did not speak. They dismounted and picketed
their horses. Then crept on all fours to the ledge above the furnace.
There was a cry from Secretary Gibbs, "Look yer. Some fellar has been
jumping us, boys. See these notices."

There were two notices on canvas affixed to the rock, claiming the
ground, and signed by Pedro, Manuel, Miguel, Wiles, and Roscommon.

"This was done, Doctor, while your trustworthy Greaser locater,--d--n
him,--lay there drunk. What's to be done now?"

But the Doctor was making his way to the unfortunate cause of their
defeat, lying there quite mute to their reproaches. The others followed
him.

The Doctor knelt