stepped lightly across to his companion in the
adventure, who had by this time recovered consciousness.

"How goes it, Tom? Feel as if you'd been run through a sausage-grinder?"
he asked cheerily.

The man smiled faintly. "I'm all right, boss. The boys tell me you went
back and saved me."

"Sho! I just grabbed you and slung you in the cage. No trick at all,
Tom. Now, don't you worry, boy. Just lie there in the hospital and rest
easy. We're settling the bill, and there's a hundred plunks waiting you
when you get well."

Tom's hand pressed his feebly.

"I always knew you were white, boss."

The doctor laughed as he came forward with a basin of water and
bandages.

"I'm afraid he'll be whiter than he need be if I don't stop that
bleeding. I think we're ready for it now, Mr. Gordon."

"All right. It's only a scratch," answered Gordon indifferently.

Pesquiera, feeling that he was out of the picture, departed in search of
a hotel for the night. He was conscious of a strong admiration for this
fair brown-faced Anglo-Saxon who faced death so lightly for one of his
men. Whatever else he might prove to be, Richard Gordon was a man.

The New Mexican had an uneasy prescience that his mission was foredoomed
to failure and that it might start currents destined to affect potently
the lives of many in the Rio Chama Valley.

CHAPTER II

THE TWO GRANTS

The clock in the depot tower registered just twelve, and the noon
whistles were blowing when Pesquiera knocked at apartment 14, of the
Gold Nugget Rooming-House.

In answer to an invitation to "Come in," he entered an apartment which
seemed to be a combination office and living-room. A door opened into
what the New Mexican assumed to be a sleeping chamber, adjoining which
was evidently a bath, judging from the sound of splashing water.

"With you in a minute," a voice from within assured the guest.

The splashing ceased. There was the sound of a towel in vigorous motion.
This was followed by the rustling of garments as the bather dressed. In
an astonishingly short time the owner of the rooms appeared in the
doorway.

He was a well-set-up youth, broad of shoulder and compact of muscle. The
ruddy bloom that beat through the tanned cheeks and the elasticity of
his tread hinted at an age not great, but there was no suggestion of
immaturity in the cool steadiness of the gaze or in the quiet poise of
the attitude.

He indicated a chair, after relieving his visit