"Yer see, Cap," added Rock, giving a reason for the request, "'fore it's all over, who knows I mayn't need full leg freedom 'ithoot any hamper? So gie the dwarf the hul o' the chain to carry. He desarve to hev it, or suthin' else, round his thrapple 'stead o' his leg. This chile have been contagious to the grist o' queer company in his perambulations roun' and about; but niver sech as he. The sight of him air enough to give a nigger the gut ache." And in his quaint vernacular he thus rambled on all the time Kearney was at work, his rude speech being an appropriate symphony to the rasping of the file. He at the other end of the coupling-chain lay squatted along the ground, saying not a word, but his eyes full of sparkle and mischief, as those of an enraged rattle-snake. Still, there was fear in his face; for though he could not tell what was being said, he fancied it was about himself, and anything but in his favour. He was with the other three, but not of them; his conscience told him that. He was in their way, too; had been all along, and would be hereafter. What if they took into their heads to rid themselves of him in some violent manner? They might cut his throat with one of the knives he had seen them make such dexterous use of! Reflecting in this fashion, no wonder he was apprehensive. Something was going to be done to him different from the rest, he felt sure. After the chain had been got apart the other three drew off to a distance, and stood as if deliberating. It must be about himself. And about him it was--the way to dispose of him. "I hardly know what we're to do with the little beast," said Rivas. "Leave him here loose we daren't; he'd slip back again, good as certain, and too soon for our safety. If we tie him he will cry out, and might be heard. We're not far enough away. _Oiga_! They're beating up the cover we've just come out of. Yes; they're in the _chapparal_ now!" It was even so, as could be told by the occasional call of a bugle sounding skirmish signals. "Why not tie and gag him, too?" asked Kearney. "Sure we could do that. But it wouldn't be safe either. They might find their way here at once. But if they didn't find it at all, and no one came along--" "Ah! I see," interrupted the Irishman, as the inhumanity of the thing became manifest to him. "He might perish, you mean?" "Just so. No doubt the wretch deserves it. From all I've heard of him, he does richly. But we are not his judges, and have no right to be his executioners." Sentiments not such as might have been expected from the lips of a bandit! "No, certainly not," rejoined Kearney, hastening to signify his approval of them. "What do _you_ think we should do with him, Rock?" he added, addressing himself to the Texan, who quite comprehended the difficulty.