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Bob was on his feet in an instant and sprang for a Mexican who had slipped into the aisle and was coming upon the Indian from behind. In the dim light everything was confused, but Bob’s fist found its mark and the man fell. The Indian was holding his own valiantly but Bob’s help had come at the right moment. Together they backed towards the door, fighting as they went. Then the lights went up and the Mexicans, fearing the consequences of their action, slipped into the nearest seats, hoping to escape notice., The whole garden with its crooked old trees and newly planted young ones was overflowing with fruit: big and little pears, red apples, yellow apples, and oh! any quantity of plums—yellow plums bursting with ripeness, great juicy blue plums, and those sweet ones of a reddish purple color. Hurrah!, Feather-in-the-Wind, while preserving his customary dignity, was genuinely sorry to see him go..