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“Weren’t you hurt?” asked Bob. “Well,” Ted replied, “I hung around the house all day yesterday and worked like a dog. Dad was tickled to death when I got back. Thought that I’d proved by coming back that he was right. But he took good care to give me a bunch of stiff jobs all the same. I didn’t get onto anything yesterday until about ten o’clock. I had hit the hay but had not gone to sleep, when Dave Wesley and John Harper rode in. Both of ’em are cattlemen and they were some lit up, believe me. They had been down to Las Cruces and had mopped up all the liquor in sight. They had been around the ranch a lot recently but I had not paid much attention to them. When they came along before they had long confabs with Dad, but took care to have them where they could not be overheard. Last night they were not so careful and in spite of all my old man could do they talked and talked loud. The booze made ’em careless, I reckon, ’cause I heard them all right.” No, the stranger thought not..

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They passed on through a long suite of lofty and noble apartments, which were in the same ruinous condition. At length they came to the chamber whence the noise had issued. 'Go first, Robert, with the light,' said the marquis, as they approached the door; 'this is the key.' Robert trembled—but obeyed, and the other servants followed in silence. They stopped a moment at the door to listen, but all was still within. The door was opened, and disclosed a large vaulted chamber, nearly resembling those they had passed, and on looking round, they discovered at once the cause of the alarm.—A part of the decayed roof was fallen in, and the stones and rubbish of the ruin falling against the gallery door, obstructed the passage. It was evident, too, whence the noise which occasioned their terror had arisen; the loose stones which were piled against the door being shook by the effort made to open it, had given way, and rolled to the floor. “I send ’em back. Watch Mexican house. Mebbeso white men need help. All can do was scare Mexican. No got guns ’nough make fight.” Absorbed in the melancholy reflections which the late intelligence excited, he gave the reins to his horse, and journeyed on unmindful of his way. The evening was far advanced when he discovered that he had taken a wrong direction, and that he was bewildered in a wild and solitary scene. He had wandered too far from the road to hope to regain it, and he had beside no recollection of the objects left behind him. A choice of errors, only, lay before him. The view on his right hand exhibited high and savage mountains, covered with heath and black fir; and the wild desolation of their aspect, together with the dangerous appearance of the path that wound up their sides, and which was the only apparent track they afforded, determined Hippolitus not to attempt their ascent. On his left lay a forest, to which the path he was then in led; its appearance was gloomy, but he preferred it to the mountains; and, since he was uncertain of its extent, there was a possibility that he might pass it, and reach a village before the night was set in. At the worst, the forest would afford him a shelter from the winds; and, however he might be bewildered in its labyrinths, he could ascend a tree, and rest in security till the return of light should afford him an opportunity of extricating himself. Among the mountains there was no possibility of meeting with other shelter than what the habitation of man afforded, and such a shelter there was little probability of finding. Innumerable dangers also threatened him here, from which he would be secure on level ground. “Where’s the Boss?” he demanded of the Chinaman who served Mr. Whitney. “Gone to bed?”.