LITMIR.BIZ

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tone, "don't be frivolous on such an occasion as this. You are quite aware that I do not believe in spooks or anything of the sort; but we are in a strange country now, and strange things happen here."

      "Yah," nodded Hans. "Dot peen oxactly righdt."

      "For instance, the disappearance of that corpse is most remarkable."

      "Dot peen der first dime I nefer known a deat man to ged ub un valk avay all alone mit himseluf by," declared Hans.

      "What do you think has happened here, professor?" asked Frank.

      "It is plain Jack Burk's body is gone."

      "Sure enough."

      "And does it not seem reasonable that he walked away himself?"

      "Vell, you don'd know apout dot," broke in Hans. "Maype he don'd pelief we vos goin' pack here to bury him, und he got tiret uf vaiting for der funerals."

      "There must have been other people here after we left," said Frank.

      "Right," nodded the professor.

      "Bandits?"

      "Bushnell?"

      "One or the other."

      "Perhaps both."

      Frank fell to examining the ground for "signs," but, although his eyes were unusually keen, he was not an expert in such matters, and he discovered nothing that could serve as a revelation.

      "The man was dead beyond a doubt, professor—you are sure?"

      "Sure?" roared the little man, bristling in a moment. "Of course I'm sure! Do you take me for a howling idiot?"

      "Don't get excited, professor. The best of us are liable to err at times. It would not be strange if you——"

      "But I didn't—I tell you I didn't! The body may have been removed by the bandits which hang about this section."

      "Or by Al Bushnell, Burk's partner."

      "Yes; Bushnell may have recognized him, although he did not seem to do so. In that case, he has been here——"

      "And that explains everything."

      "Everything."

      "He took the body away to give it decent burial."

      "And we have had our trouble for nothing."

      By this time the native undertaker got the drift of the talk, and set up a wail of lamentation and accusation. He had come all that distance at great expense to himself and great waste of time during which he might have been sleeping or smoking. It was robbery, robbery, robbery. It was like the Americanoes. He had a wife and many—very many children depending on him. He had been tricked by the Americanoes, and he would complain that he had been cheated. They should be arrested; they should be compelled to pay.

      "Oh, come your perch off, und gone took a fall to yournseluf!" cried Hans, in disgust. "You gif me der lifer gomblaint!"

      The native continued to wail and lament and accuse them until Frank succeeded in quieting him by paying him three times as much as he would have asked had the body been found in the hut. The old fellow saw how he could make it appear as a clean case of deception on the part of the strangers, and he worked his little game for all there was in it. Having received his money, he lost no time in turning his cart about and heading back toward Mendoza, evidently fearing the body might be found at last and forced upon him.

      "We'd better be going, too," said Professor Scotch.

      "That's right," agreed Frank. "There is no telling what danger we may encounter on the plain after nightfall."

      "Vell, don'd let us peen all nighd apout gedding a mofe on," fluttered Hans, hastening toward the horses.

      So they mounted and rode away toward Mendoza, although Frank was far from satisfied to do so without solving the mystery of the remarkable disappearance.

      Darkness was falling heavily on the plain, across which a cool and refreshing breath came from the distant mountains.

      Frank kept his eyes open for danger, more than half expecting to run upon a gang of bandits at any moment. As they approached the town they began to breathe easier, and, before long, they were riding along the dusty road that led into the little town.

      Entering Mendoza they found on each hand low buildings connected by long, white adobe walls, against which grew prickly pears in abundance, running in straggling lines away out upon the open country.

      About the edges of the town were little fires, winking redly here and there, with earthen pots which were balanced on smoldering embers raked out from the general mass.

      Withered and skinny old hags were crooning over the pots, surrounded by swarthy children and lazy men, who were watching the preparation of the evening meal.

      Groups of peons, muffled to the eyes with their serapes, were sitting with their backs to the adobe walls, apparently fast asleep; but Frank noted that glittering, black eyes peered out from between the serapes and the huts, and he had no doubt but that many of the fellows would willingly cut a throat for a ridiculously small sum of money.

      Within the town it was different. All day the window shutters had been closely barred, but now they were flung wide, and the flash of dark eyes or the low, musical laugh of a señorita told that the maidens who had lolled all the hot day were now astir.

      Doors were flung wide, and houses which at midday had seemed uninhabited were astir with life. In the patios beautiful gardens were blooming, and through iron gates easy-chairs and hammocks could be seen.

      Many of the señoritas had come forth, and were strolling in groups of threes or fours, dressed in pink and white lawn, with Spanish veils and fans. The most of them wore white stockings and red-heeled slippers.

      Many a witching glance was shyly cast at Frank, but his mind was so occupied that he heeded none of them.

      The hotel was reached, and they were dismounting, when a battered and tattered old man, about whose shoulders was cast a ragged blanket, and whose face was hidden by a scraggly, white beard, came up with a faltering step.

      "Pardon me," he said, in a thin, cracked voice, "I see you are Americans, natives of the States, Yankees, and, as I happen to be from Michigan, I hasten to speak to you. I know you will have pity on an unfortunate countryman. My story is short. My son came to this wretched land to try to make a fortune. He went into the mines, and was doing well. He sent me home money, and I put a little aside, so that I had a snug little sum after a time. Then he fell into the hands of Pacheco, the bandit. You have heard of Pacheco, gentlemen?"

      "We have," said Frank, who was endeavoring to get a fair look into the old man's eyes.

      "We surely have," agreed the professor.

      "Vell, you can pet my poots on dot!" nodded Hans.

      "The wretch—the cutthroat!" cried the old man, shaking his clinched hand in the air. "Why didn't he kill me? He has robbed me of everything—everything!"

      "Tell us—finish your story," urged the professor.

      Frank said nothing. The light from a window shone close by the old man. Frank was waiting for the man to change his position so the light would shine on his face.

      For some moments the man seemed too agitated to proceed, but he finally went on.

      "My son—my son fell into the hands of this wretched bandit. Pacheco took him captive. Then he sent word to me that he would murder my son if I did not appear and pay two thousand dollars ransom money. Two thousand dollars! I did not have it in the world. But I had a little home. I sold it—I sold everything to raise the money to save my boy. I obtained it. And then—then, my friends, I received another letter. Then Pacheco demanded three thousand dollars."

      "Der brice vos on der jump," murmured Hans.

      "But that is not the worst!" cried the old man, waving his arms, excitedly. "Oh, the monster—the demon!"

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