From the soldiers’ quarters straggled the guard, as unkempt a lot as one would wish to see; each grasped a musket, and each was much excited by the shot and the sudden alarm. A horde of Indians, men, women and children, also made their appearance and pressed toward the scene of action. There was an excited hubbub of voices; the musket barrels shone in the sun; and the tattered soldiery eagerly fingered the locks as though anxious to take up their duties at once. At a word from the excited captain they formed a slovenly line. “Disarm those Americanos!” directed the officer. “And put them under a close guard. We shall see if our lives are to be threatened by intruders in this way.” The grim mouths of the Mexican guns were turned upon the two lads who now stood with their backs to an adobe wall; for a moment or two things looked very bad for them; but then a new element showed itself which put a new face upon things. Through the press of Indians, who made no offer to take a part in the proceedings, a half dozen buckskin-clad men shouldered their way. From their coonskin caps to their moccasined feet they looked a hardy lot; and in their faces was that resolution which comes in time to all those who are accustomed to face danger. Each carried a rifle in the hollow of his arm; and silently they placed themselves between the two boys and the soldiery. One of them, a rather small young man with sandy hair and mild gray eyes, stepped toward the captain. “Just a moment, señor,” said he, in Spanish. “If you’d like to listen, we’ve got a word or two to say for the boys, before your men carry the matter further.” For a moment it seemed as though the Mexican officer would order his guard to fire upon the intruders; but the cool, resolute air of the men in buckskin caused him to alter his mind. Holding up a hand in a gesture which bid his men await his further commands, he said surlily: “Well, señor, and who are you?” The young spokesman of the party smiled. “What! and is it possible that you’ve forgotten me so soon?” said he. “Are you the Hudson Bay man?” “No.” A light seemed to break upon the Mexican. “You are of Young’s band of trappers,” said he with a smile which held an under-current of cunning. “To be sure. I had all but forgotten you.” The young spokesman nodded, good-humoredly. “That you’d done so, señor, shows that we’ve been giving you little trouble,” said he. “And now,” with a certain bluntness of manner, “let us come to the present matter. As it happened, we saw the affair between you and these lads. As far as I can see they are in no way to blame. It was your sentry who fired the shot, and----” “Wait!” interrupted the commander of the village. To the sentry he said: “Rascal, did you fire your piece?” “My officer,” replied the man, “I thought you were----” “Enough!” snapped the captain. “I will see to you later.”