As he worked he glanced, now at the shallow stream, and now at his canvas--this as painters do. Suddenly, something close to the bank caught his eye--a greyish something, almost submerged, around which the water purled and played with little whispers. He sprang up in haste, overturning easel and stool, and ran down the narrow, sloping beach which here stretched between river and bank. There was no need to doubt what he saw. For there, thrust up through the moving water, almost in reach of his hand, was the point of a sharp horn. His first thought was that Paloma might see it; his next, that Father José must be summoned. The father came at once, adjusting his spectacles upon his high nose as he hurried along. And when he saw what was lying near the shore, with the water urging it inch by inch downstream, he fell back with a shocked and sorrowful face, murmuring his pity. “The gentle creature!” he said. “I trust I was never over-bitter against him. Though he had green to feed upon, yet he would rather crop at my flowers. Señor, how human!” “But what is that, Father José?” Señor John pointed to a bit of bright-coloured cloth that was now spread out upon the surface of the water from the tip of the horn. By wading a step and poking at the cloth with the end of his brush-handle, he dislodged it, whereupon it gave a sudden whirl, floated for a few feet, then rode into shore on an eddy. “Ah, señor!” cried Father José, as he caught it up--and anger succeeded pity on his face. “He thought to throw the little beast where he would be sucked down. But the sands have shifted! And here is telltale proof! Come with me, señor. It requires discussion.” And he led the way hastily to Paloma’s. What befell at the council needs no particular recounting. Paloma’s mother said little and that in Spanish. Paloma wept and threatened, and vowed that now she truly would _not_ marry Anastacio, though he lived to be as old as the father himself and as rich as the richest man in Albuquerque. As for Señor John, he said little, but listened respectfully to Father José, who spoke chiefly of the law. After the drum had beaten, and midday prayers had been said in the chapel, Father José took a cup of coffee to fortify him, then donned cloak and hat and climbed up to the little railway station at the top of the crumbling dirt-cliffs. There he asked on the telephone for the office of the sheriff of the county, and when the sheriff spoke at the other end of the wire, Father José asked him to hasten to Los Morales to arrest one Anastacio Galvez, for killing a deer out of season. * * * * * When the sheriff came, Anastacio, swaggering cheerfully, again sought Paloma. “_Ninita_,” he began, “I come for a farewell word. I am sorry now that Miguel is dead, since it makes you so unhappy. But do not forget that love urged me to do away with him.”