It was with a thrill of satisfaction, that was mixed with disgust at his own infirmity of purpose, he realized that Nettie Harding must have meant that she had vindicated him in Violet Wayne’s eyes, but in that case it was evident that he had gone away in vain, since Nettie could not have proved his innocence without inculpating Tony. It also appeared out of the question that anybody would believe Tony if he told the truth now, and Appleby flushed with anger at himself as he pictured the effect of the blow upon the girl. He knew at last that it was to save her the pain of the discovery he had borne the blame, and yet he could not overcome a curious sense of relief and content at the thought that she had heard he was innocent. Then he wondered what had befallen Tony, and decided with a trace of bitterness that it was no affair of his. Tony had had his chances, and if he had thrown them away had only himself to blame. At last he shook himself to attention when a distant patter of feet came faintly across the cane. The sound grew plainer as he listened, while here and there a shadowy figure rose up among the roots and sank from sight again. It was evident that two or three men were moving down the road in haste, but the soft patter of their feet did not suggest the approach of the cazadores. Still, it seemed advisable to take precautions, and he sent out two men, who, crossing the road, faded again into invisibility on the edge of the cane. “Now we’re going to find out where that picket is,” said Harper. “Those fellows are coming right here, and I guess by the noise they’re making they don’t belong to the Sin Verguenza.” Appleby repeated the observation in Castilian, and a man unseen among the roots laughed softly. “The Señor Harper has reason,” he said. “Our friends do not travel on a white road with their shoes on when the moon is shining.” In another moment a hoarse cry rose from the cane, the patter of feet quickened suddenly, and Appleby stood up when he heard the sharp ringing of a rifle. Another shot followed, but the men unseen beyond the cane were evidently running still, and there was a little murmur from the Sin Verguenza. Appleby made a restraining gesture with his hand. “I think the cazadores are coming too,” he said. Then there was silence among the cottonwoods, but hard brown fingers stiffened on the rifle barrels, and while the patter of feet grew rapidly louder the strip of white road was swept by watchful eyes. Still nothing moved upon it, until a man appeared where it twisted into the cane. A moment later another showed behind him, and then a third, who seemed to reel a little in his stride.