220 SPORT, TRAVEL, AND ADVENTURE 



and not more than sixty feet off, was the gate of the 

 corral, which creaked on its rusty hinges, when moved, 

 in the most dismal manner. 



As I lay upon my bed I could hear Kaweah occasion- 

 ally stamp, the snoring of the Chinaman on one side, 

 and the low, mumbled conversation of my host and 

 his squaw on the other. I felt no inclination to sleep, 

 but lay there in half -doze, quite conscious, yet with- 

 drawn from the present. 



I think it must have been about eleven o'clock when 

 I heard the clatter of a couple of horsemen, who 

 galloped up to my host's building and sprang to the 

 ground, their Spanish spurs ringing on the stone. I 

 sat up in bed, grasped my pistol, and listened. The 

 peach-tree next my window rustled. The horses 

 moved about so restlessly that I heard but little 

 of the conversation, but that little I found of personal 

 interest. 



I give, as nearly as I can remember, the fragments 

 of dialogue between my host and the man whom I 

 recognized as the elder of my two robbers. 



'When did he come? ' 



' .Well, the sun might have been about four hours.' 



' Has his horse given out? ' 



I failed to hear the answer, but was tempted to 

 shout out ' No ! ' 



' Grey coat, buckskin breeches.' (My dress.) 



' Going to Mariposa at seven in the morning.' 



' I guess I wouldn't round here.' 



A low, muttered soliloquy in Spanish wound up with 

 a growl. 



' No, Antoine, not within a mile of the place. Sta 

 buen.' 



