“‘_Great God! who is that behind you?_’ The robbers instinctively turned their heads. Crack!--crack! The major’s right arm, rigid as iron, held the smoking weapon, as two riderless horses galloped off, and I mechanically fired at the third man. Then my friend laid his revolver down, and put his hand to his forehead. We drove on a short distance, and then made one of the frightened Mexicans hold the horses, and the driver and I hurried back. It was with a sharp shudder, and a vivid realization that the forebodings of earlier days had come only too true, that I saw my old school-mate lying dead in the dusty road. And then I saw one of those strange phenomena of the occurrence of which there is ample scientific evidence. Gentlemen, I assure you that there _had_ been mutual recognition, and the terror of it was in those dead eyes. “We drove back to Santa Fé almost at a gallop, the major sitting like a statue in his seat, and never speaking. As we entered the plaza and stopped before the old palace a crowd gathered, and I whispered to an army officer to take my poor friend to headquarters, while I attended to the needful formalities. I can see the scene before my eyes this moment: the motley gathering of Americans and Mexicans, with some uniforms among them; the driver eagerly talking--the hostlers taking the horses’ heads. The United States Marshal and Commissioner came out of their offices, and I told them the story. The marshal stopped me for a moment after the first ten words, and sent for his two deputies and three horses. Then he lighted a cigar and offered me one as I went on with my brief narrative. The deputies came up, the marshal went to his office for his arms, and examined the percussion-caps as he asked me a few questions. Then they all three shook hands with me and galloped down the narrow street. They were fierce pursuers, and when I saw the chief deputy that evening, he told me that the third man was in the jail. “‘I know ’em all well,’ he added, ‘and two more ungodly ruffians than the dead men never cheated the gallows. I’ve been after that black-haired one a long time for a matter in Wyoming’; and a wolfish look came for a moment over his pleasant face. ‘I knew where to find the third man. He’s a mean cur, and gave in without the show of a fight. To be sure, you plugged him pretty bad in the arm.’ “When the marshal had gone to his office the commissioner and I walked to headquarters and found the major (whom the surgeon had induced to drink a composing draught) sitting in a chair, leaning his head upon his hand. He rose as we approached. ‘Sam,’ said he to the commissioner, ‘the Lord delivered him into my hands! It was his will.’