"Wal, I'll be durned!" and Ham stared down in astonishment on the fallen Mexican. "Thought I heer'd someone breathin' over my shoulder. Now what might you be dewin' down thar?" and the eyes that glared down into Pedro's face began to glow angrily. "I--I" stammered Pedro, as he staggered a little dizzily to his feet, both hands holding onto his head. "I but try to see what make so great interest to senors, when sudden up comes that great body and hit chin, like bunt of big bull, and knock head to ground. I did but follow my head, senor." "Jest follered y'ur head, did you?" and Ham's anger vanished in roars of laughter, at the words of the unfortunate Mexican and the looks on his face, in which he was heartily joined by all the others, all except Mrs. Dickson, who inquired solicitously of Pedro if he was much hurt. But Pedro's curiosity for the moment was fully satisfied, and, without making any reply, except to mutter something about American bulls under his breath, he retreated to his dish washing. "Sarved him right," declared Ham emphatically, as all again resumed their examination of the skin map. When the map had been sufficiently examined, Thure again retired into Mrs. Dickson's tent, where he again concealed the map in the bosom of his shirt; and when he came out again, apparently without the map, Pedro smiled knowingly. Before going to her tent that night Mrs. Dickson sang a number of songs, and almost weirdly beautiful her voice sounded in the still night air of that little wilderness valley, concluding with Ham's favorite "Ben Bolt." Then she bade them all good-night and disappeared into her little tent. Mr. Dickson and Thure were to stand guard that night until the moon came up, which would be about one o'clock in the morning. Consequently, as soon as Mrs. Dickson retired, all but these two rolled themselves up in their blankets near the camp-fire and were soon sound asleep. Thure and Dickson each picked up his rifle and took his station on opposite sides of the camp and began his long silent vigil. The skies were overcast with clouds and the darkness was so dense that the watchers could not see six feet outside of the constantly dimming circle of the firelight. In a couple of hours the fire had burnt down so low, that, from where Thure stood near the horses, he could not even see the white of Mrs. Dickson's tent, although it was not over ten yards from where he stood; and he was about to step forward to replenish it, when a dark object leaped by him, so close that he could have touched it with his outstretched rifle, and disappeared in the darkness before he could utter a word or throw his gun to his shoulder, and the next instant the air was rent by a piercing shriek from Pedro, followed by the flash and the report of his pistol and his yells of fright.