Doña Luisa was in my room when I got there. With a mysterious finger to her lips she shut the door and produced from beneath her skirt a last year’s copy of the _Saturday Evening Post_, in an incredible state of dissolution. "I got it out of the safe for you," she said. "The damn thing’s worth more than anything in the house. I’ve been offered fifteen dollars for it by Americans going out to the mines. You see we haven’t had any American magazines in a year now." *CHAPTER III* *SAVED BY A WRIST-WATCH* After that what could I do but read the precious magazine, although I had read it before. I lit the lamp, undressed, and got into bed. Just then came an unsteady step on the gallery outside and my door was flung violently open. Framed in it stood the pock-marked officer who had been drinking in the bar. In one hand he carried a big revolver. For a moment he stood blinking at me malevolently, then stepped inside and closed the door with a bang. "I am Lieutenant Antonio Montoya, at your orders," he said. "I heard there was a Gringo in this hotel and I have come to kill you." "Sit down," said I politely. I saw he was drunkenly in earnest. He took off his hat, bowed politely and drew up a chair. Then he produced another revolver from beneath his coat and laid them both on the table. They were loaded. "Would you like a cigarette?" I offered him the package. He took one, waved it in thanks, and lit it at the lamp. Then he picked up the guns and pointed them both at me. His fingers tightened slowly on the triggers, but relaxed again. I was too far gone to do anything but just wait. "My only difficulty," said he, lowering his weapons, "is to determine which revolver I shall use." "Pardon me," I quavered, "but they both appear a little obsolete. That Colt forty-five is certainly an 1895 model, and as for the Smith and Wesson, between ourselves it is only a toy." "True," he answered, looking at them a little ruefully. "If I had only thought I would have brought my new automatic. My apologies, señor." He sighed and again directed the barrels at my chest, with an expression of calm happiness. "However, since it is so, we must make the best of it." I got ready to jump, to duck, to scream. Suddenly his eye fell upon the table, where my two-dollar wrist-watch was lying. "What is that?" he asked. "A watch!" Eagerly I demonstrated how to fasten it on. Unconsciously the pistols slowly lowered. With parted lips and absorbed attention he watched it delightedly, as a child watches the operation of some new mechanical toy. "Ah," he breathed. "_Que esta bonita_! How pretty!"