The sentry paced along the narrow driveway and stopped at the outer corner of the house to cast an envious glance across at the barracks where he knew that his friends were engaged in a furtive game of _monte_, which had started before he had gone on duty not a quarter of an hour before. He turned slowly to pace back again and then suddenly threw up his arms as his world became black. His falling firelock was caught as it left his hands, and soon lay at the side of its gagged and trussed owner in the blackness along the base of a driveway wall. Two figures slipped toward the courtyard to the rear of the house and one of them, taking the rifle of his companion, stopped at the corner of the wall at the driveway. The other slipped to the door, gently tried the latch and opened it, one hand hidden beneath the folds of a dirty blanket. The door swung silently open and shut and the intruder cast a swift glance around the room. Captain Salezar grinned into the cracked mirror hanging on the wall, stiffened to attention, and saluted the image in the glass. "Colonel Salezar's orders, sir," he declaimed and then, staring with unbelieving eyes at the apparition pushing out onto the mirror, crossed himself, whirled and drew his sword almost in one motion. The Delaware cringed and pulled at a lock of hair straggling down past his eyes and held out a folded paper, swiftly placing a finger on his lips. "_Por le Capitan despues le Gobernador_," he whispered. "_Pronto!_" The captain's anger and suspicion at so unceremonious an entry slowly faded, but he did not lower the sword. The Delaware slid forward, abject and fearful, his eyes riveted on the clumsy blade, the paper held out at arm's length. "_Por le Capitan_," he muttered. "_Pronto!_" "You son of swine!" growled Salezar. "You scum! Is this the way you enter an officer's house? How did you pass the sentry? A score of lashes on both your backs will teach you manners and him his duty. Give me that message and stand aside till I call the guard!" "_Perdon, Capitan! Perdon, perdon!_" begged the Delaware. "_Le Gobernador_--" his hands streaked out, one gripping the sword wrist of the captain, the other fastening inexorably on the greasy, swarthy throat well up under the chin. As the grips clamped down the Delaware's knee rose and smashed into the Mexican's stomach. The sword clattered against a wall and the two men fell and rolled and thrashed across the floor. "Where _is_ she?" grated the Indian as he writhed and rolled, now underneath and now uppermost. "Where _is_ she, you murdering dog?" They smashed against the flimsy table and overturned it, candle, liquor and all. The candle flickered out and the struggle went on in the darkness. "Where _is_ she, Salezar? Yore in th' hands of a _Texan_, you taker of ears! Where _is_ she?"