“Yes, I can tell you all about this affair, for I know Harvey Montaine.” “Indeed!” exclaimed Frank, unguardedly, “then he is a friend of yours?” “Well, perhaps so. You know him yourself, I take it?” “Yes,” replied Frank, “he is a man of honor and of courage. Then the report is true that he was robbed of his claim by Costello?” “I believe that he and Costello had an argument about a claim,” replied Casnova, quietly; “to which it properly belonged I am not able to say.” “It belonged to Montaine,” said Frank, decidedly. “Ah, you know that then, do you?” asked the ranchero, quickly. Frank’s face flushed. He had spoken too quickly. “I know that Montaine claimed to own a rich gold claim hereabouts,” he declared, positively. “I have no reason to doubt his words.” “By no means, senor,” replied Casnova, politely, “but you neglect the wine.” “I thank you,” replied Frank. “I can drink no more.” “Allow me to insist, senor. It is a very fine quality.” “As fine as I ever tasted,” declared Frank; “but I will not drink again.” De Casnova sat the mug down quietly. There was a queer gleam in his dark eyes as he said: “Perhaps, senor, I can help you to rescue this Montaine from the villain, Costello. In fact, I have no doubt that I can.” “I have not intimated such to be my purpose,” said Frank, steadily. “Ah!” exclaimed the Mexican, lifting his eyebrows. “I see you will not trust me. But rest assured, Senor Reade, that Juan de Casnova is an honorable man.” “I know nothing to the contrary,” replied Frank. He was studying a way out of the difficulty. He felt in some vague way that he was in a complicated position and wished to extricate himself. He saw through the windows that Pomp and Barney had filled the Steam Man’s boilers and were getting up steam. Frank at that moment heartily wished himself aboard the Steam Man. For some reason he felt a strong distrust of Casnova. He realized that he had committed an error in speaking of Montaine or of the Mexican bandit. Frank knew enough of Mexicans to be aware of the fact that they were exceedingly treacherous and hung together famously. For aught he knew Casnova was hand in glove with the bandit, and feeling that this was possible Frank’s sensations can well be imagined. He wished himself far from the spot at that moment. Indeed, he had already begun to count the chances of reaching the Steam Man alive in case he should make a break. Casnova’s eyes were upon him intently all the while. The villain seemed to read his purpose like a printed book. “You will stop some days with us, Senor Reade,” said the ranchero, smoothly. “You will find that a Mexican knows something of the art of entertaining.” “I am well aware of that now,” replied Frank. “I will consult with my companions, and if they-—-” But Casnova made a gesture of impatience. “Senor need not do that,” he exclaimed; “they are but peons. The senor is assuredly his own master.”