Jim laughed at his friend's way of expressing himself, and tried to make him change his mind about the proposed call, but an older man would have told him that there was much sound sense under John Berwick's odd humor. The truth was that the more experienced man of the world knew that the real danger lay in the senorita's caring for him instead of the more simple and straightforward Jim. Berwick knew that it was social experience and knowledge that was apt to count for most in such matters. "Lucky this isn't our busy day," remarked the engineer, as they waited for the Senor da Cordova and his daughter to finish their lunch. "It's Broome's move, anyway," replied Jim. Just then there was an incident at the other table that invited their attention. CHAPTER IX THE WATCHER The Senorita da Cordova, had suddenly leaned forward in an animated manner and spoke to her father indicating at the same time someone who was standing under an awning on the other side of the thoroughfare. Whether the man's presence caused her fright, or mere excitement it was hard to tell. "There he is, there he is!" she was heard to exclaim. Jim followed the direction of her glance, and immediately he jumped to his feet. "Come on, Berwick," he cried, "we want that fellow across the street." Berwick was puzzled but he knew that Jim was no alarmist who would start on a wild goose chase, without rhyme or reason. He saw the figure across the way but did not recognize who it was. Thrusting a bill into the waiter's hands, a procedure the waiter did not resent, he followed Jim out of the restaurant. As their sudden departure made a slight commotion, the senorita turned her head and got a fair look at Jim. A flush of surprise came into her face, and her dark eyes opened wide. "Why, Father, look at the tall American going out," she whispered; "it is the senor who saved me from the bandits." "There are other tall Americans," he said with a smile; "there was a resemblance but that happens frequently in life, my daughter, the other man bore no resemblance to his brothers." The senorita shook her dark head with emphasis. "It was not nice of Senor James to run away from us, as though we had the plague; it was certainly very far from nice, and I shall make him pay some day." "Senor James," exclaimed her father, a slight frown on his brow; "you certainly have a remarkable memory, Marie." "It is not at all wonderful, Father," replied the girl with much spirit; "did he not save me from that terrible Senor Jenkins and his band? I shall remember him as long as there is the breath of life in my little body." "His memory does not seem to be as retentive as yours," said her father with quiet sarcasm. The senorita's face flushed at this thrust and she sat moodily silent for a while, then something happened which changed the current of her interest. "Look," she cried, "the man across the street is running. What can be the matter?"