IT was late at night when Appleby, who felt no inclination for sleep, looked out into the soft darkness from a window of the cuartel where he had now passed six anxious days Here and there a light blinked dimly in the gulf of blacker shadow that marked the narrow street beneath him, for there was no moon that night, and the steamy dampness the faint warm wind drove before it obscured the stars. A hot, musky smell rose from the silent town. Still, Appleby, who had keen eyes, fancied he had seen a shadowy form pass twice beneath the nearest light, and then turn as though looking up at the cuartel, and he called Harper softly when it appeared again. “Can you make out that man?” he said. “This is the third time I have seen him. It is noticeable that he shows himself just under the lamp.” “Well,” said Harper reflectively, “I guess you wouldn’t have seen him anywhere else.” The shadowy form slipped away into the obscurity, and there was silence for at least five minutes while the pair stood very still, wondering with a vague sense of expectation what it meant, until Appleby said sharply, “There he is again.” “No,” said Harper. “That’s another one. He’s taller, and, so far as I can make out, dressed quite different. Still, he’s looking up. It seems to me he means us or somebody else to see him.” Appleby felt his heart throb, and his voice was not quite steady as he said, “Morales has, at least, a half‐company in the cuartel.” “Well,” said Harper, “I don’t quite know. He sent most of the Barremedas away—though there’s a section or two here still. They are the men that showed signs of kicking in the plaza, and it’s quite likely he figures they’d be safer with Vincente’s Peninsular battalion. Then counting up the pickets, outposts, and patrols he’ll have on the carretera, there’ll scarcely be forty men in this barracks now.” Appleby nodded. “Perhaps you are right,” he said. “I have been wondering why nothing has apparently happened to the section which ordered arms. Morales is not the man to let a thing of that kind pass.” Harper was quite aware that his comrade had little interest in the question, and surmised that he desired to conceal the fact that the appearance of the man below had stirred him to a state of tense expectancy. “No,” he said. “Still, I guess he has quite a good reason for holding his hand, and those cazadores will be sorry for themselves when he’s through with them. He’ll keep them wondering where he’s going to hit them until it grinds all the grit out of them, and then start in.” He stopped somewhat abruptly at the sound of feet on the stairway, and had his hand on the lattice when a soldier came in. It was evident that he noticed the half‐closed window, and he looked at them curiously.