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Finally something was said which was more than the redman could stand. He got up and in a dignified manner moved to the spot where his tormentors were sitting. He spoke to them in Spanish. Coming back from the job one night, he saw a strange yet familiar figure sitting on the porch of the Quarter-house. When he got near enough to see he started on the run towards the building. Pshaw! how silly people were! And now came Olea, the cook from his own home, weeping and wailing aloud. When she saw him she was ready to drop with astonishment. “Oh, you angel John! Are you risen from the dead? They brought us word that you were drowned.” Bob shook the sleep out of his eyes and hustled into his clothes. When he came downstairs with Jerry he found that Mr. Whitney had already finished his breakfast and had gone out. So he and Jerry had theirs. During the meal Bob tried again to draw his new comrade out, but the same unwillingness to talk possessed Jerry. Bob rather wondered what was the matter. He had not been used to meeting with such reserve. He remembered also that during the conversation on the porch the night before Jerry had spoken hardly a word but sat in his chair motionless. At last, giving it up as a bad job, he finished his meal in silence. Steve Whitney met them in the lobby..