Sancho, studying the coming stage with Blake's binocular until it dove into the arroyo five hundred yards to the west, handed that costly instrument to the silent, dumpy, dark-skinned woman who stood patiently at his side, and said briefly, "_Dos_" at which she vanished, and after restoring the glass to its hiding-place in her bedroom, was heard uplifting a shrill, raucous voice at the back of the house, ordering dinner to be ready for two. When the vehicle came rattling up to the door Sancho stood at his threshold, the old lorgnette in hand, bowing profoundly as two travelers, officers of the army apparently, emerged in their dusters and stiffly alighted. "Have any letters or dispatches been left here for me?" asked in quiet tone the elder of the two, limping slightly as he advanced, leaving to his comrade the responsibility of seeing that none of their luggage had been jolted out of the rickety vehicle. One or two hangers-on came languidly, yet inquisitively, within earshot. For answer the ranch-keeper, with another elaborate bow, produced a bulky official envelope. The officer hastily glanced at the superscription, said "This is for me," strode within the adobe-walled corral, halted under a screen of brown canvas, and there tore open the packet. Several personal letters fell to the ground, but he at first paid little heed to them. Rapidly his eyes ran over a sheet of closely-written matter, then he turned to the silent and ceremonious ranchman. "When did this come?" he asked. "At sunset yesterday, Senor Comandante." "Where's the courier?" "He returned before dawn to-day." The loungers drew still nearer as the senior calmly turned to his companion, who, having assured himself that their _impedimenta_ were all safe, came with quick, springy step to join him. "Where do you suppose Blake and his detachment to be at this moment, Loring?" "Perhaps thirty miles ahead, sir; over toward Maricopa. Do you need him, colonel?" "Yes, and at once. Our bird has flown. In other words, Nevins has skipped." CHAPTER II.