290 ON THE FEONTIEE. 



he would go with me ; not into the lion's den, but to the 

 mouth of it. He did not want to go inside. He would 

 take post in the shrubbery and wait for me. I need not 

 hurry myself, he had plenty of patience ; and if it came to 

 a row, why if one man could pull me through, he would be 

 there doing his level best. But before starting, I should do 

 well to sling myself between a brace of revolvers ; on 

 second thoughts, I had better take a bowie instead. A 

 pistol-shot might bring those infernal Mexican police on 

 us. I told him compromise was the chief of wisdom. I 

 would take one six-shooter and my knife. But indeed I was 

 sure there would be no danger. She would never let me run 

 into an ambush. 



" Oh ! " said he. " And so, because she made eyes at 



you, and at parting permitted no, there is no use in 



protestations ; I was watching you think she cares more 



for your life than his frown. Well ! you are a fool," and 

 then with a grip of the hand we parted. 



Next evening saw us on our way to El Ojo, the 

 "lion's den," according to my friend; to me, "Beauty's 

 bower." It was late enough to be what in Acapulco is 

 called cool, and the night was as dark as ink. There was 

 no one in the verandah ; the window was open, I peeped in. 

 In one of the far corners a small, bright spark was visible 

 the glow from a cigdritta ; and a sweet, low voice said, 

 " Quien alii ? " I gave my name. " Entrar, senor," was the 

 reply. I was lifting my foot over the low sill of the window, 

 when I heard a movement in the other corner of the room. 

 I dodged to one side as quickly as a lightning-flash. 

 "Will you go back now?" whispered my friend. "No." 



