It was evident that they saw the cottonwoods, and hoped to find concealment there, but the Sin Verguenza lay still watching the three blurred shadowy objects with dispassionate curiosity. What befell the strangers was no concern of theirs, but they were doing excellent service in leading on the cazadores. Then there was a very faint murmur as a cluster of men in uniform appeared, for there were rather more of them than the Sin Verguenza had expected, and it became apparent that they were running faster than the fugitives. Appleby could almost see the faces of the latter now, and a moment later Harper, who was crouching close by, dropped his hand on his comrade’s arm. “That last one’s not quite like the rest,” he said. Appleby stiffened his fingers on the rifle at his hip, and stared at the last figure with growing astonishment. “No. The man’s complexion is as light as mine,” he said. Then there was another rifle shot, and a little spurt of dust leapt up from the road. The third man swung suddenly round and a pistol twice flashed in his hand, while his companions flung themselves gasping into the shadow of the cottonwoods. Hands were stretched out that seized them and pulled them down, and a little quiver ran through Appleby as he watched the lonely figure that now showed clear in the moonlight by the edge of the road. Close behind it the cazadores were coming on at a run, and there were considerably more of them than there were of the Sin Verguenza. Still, the fugitive stood tense and immovable. He was dressed simply in white duck, with a wide felt hat on his head, but there was something curiously familiar in his pose that perplexed Appleby, until turning half round suddenly he looked over his shoulder. Then as his face showed white in the moonlight Appleby gasped and flung up his rifle. “Keep still!” he cried in English. He felt the jar on his shoulder, there was a thin red flash and the smoke was in his eyes. Then spurts of pale flame blazed out from among the trees, and when the soft vapor slid away the road was empty save for one man, who ran straight in towards the cottonwoods with uneven lurching stride. Then while the Sin Verguenza looked on wondering Appleby stepped out from the shadow. “Tony!” he said. “By all that’s wonderful, Tony!” The stranger stood still gasping, and stared at him, ignoring his outstretched hand. Then he drew back a pace. “I have found you at last,” he said. “I’ve a good deal to tell you, but it scarcely seems likely those fellows yonder will give me the opportunity now. It’s specially unfortunate, because there does not seem to be many of you, and I’m a trifle lame.”