"Don Abrahan said, 'Tell my little son, Gabriel, that all is forgiven.' He said the ship would sail in three days. We must hurry, Gabriel." "First, we can't do better than imitate our horses," Henderson said, his confidence growing, suspicion all but dispelled. "Let's get some supper before we start, Simon. I'm hungry; your news is good for the appetite." Although largely assured by Simon's manner of open honesty, Henderson watched him closely. He had heard the mule driver air his peculiar morals often enough to ground deep and abiding distrust of his ability to do anything exactly straightforward. Simon was apparently unarmed, but Henderson suspected that a pistol was concealed somewhere in his loose clothing, ready to his hand. "Don Abrahan has come to Helena Sprague's ranch, where he is waiting to welcome you and take you to his breast," Simon said, sitting in the light of the little fire after the hastily-prepared supper had been eaten. "We think he has found out something about you, that you are the son of a family, or something grand." "And Roberto, is he there?" "Roberto went on to Monterey today, I heard it said. What dark night it is here in the hills!" [Illustration] "It will be darker before it's lighter. We'd better go." "Yes, the ship will not wait, Don Abrahan will wonder at our delay. What was that?" Simon started, listening, hand lifted to impose silence. "Coyotes, very likely," Henderson replied, unconcerned. "They come around here at night." "It sounded like a horse." Simon rose, leaning into the dark, listening hard, "If mine has got loose!" He walked away a little distance, going softly, almost immediately disappearing in the dark, which was deeper for the wooded side of the canyon forming the background of the camp. Henderson heard him swearing presently around the corner of the hut, disturbing the bushes softly as if he sought a passage through. "A bird in the bushes, I think," Simon said, turning back. "Do you leave your fire uncovered these dry days?" "I drown it," Henderson said. "Go ahead, then; we must get down out of this dark place. Don Abrahan will think I'm slower than seven doctors." Henderson took up the pail to pour what water it contained over the dying fire. He was standing with it poised, held in both hands, when something came toward him from Simon's direction with the swishing sound of a bird's wing. Quick as the leaping of his intuitive warning that treachery was afoot behind him, Henderson stooped and sprang aside.