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 stare at him very dark from the corner. "You're not afraid of me?" he said.

"No," said Linda, "we are not afraid of you. You came here with Gian' Battista."

"You mean Nostromo?" said Decoud.

"The English call him so, but that is no name either for man or beast," said the girl, passing her hand gently over her sister's hair.

"But he lets people call him so." remarked Decoud.

"Not in this house," retorted the child.

"Ah! well. I shall call him the capataz then."

Decoud gave up the point, and after writing steadily for a while turned round again.

"When do you expect him back?" he asked.

"After he brought you here he rode off to fetch the Senor Doctor from the town for mother. He will be back soon."

"He stands a good chance of getting shot some- where on the road," Decoud murmured to himself audibly; and Linda declared in her high-pitched voice:

" Nobody would dare to fire a shot at Gian* Battista."

"You believe that." asked Decoud, "do you?"

" I know it," said the child, with conviction. "There is no one in this place brave enough to attack Gian’ Battista."

"It doesn't require much bravery to pull a trigger behind a bush," muttered Decoud to himself, "Fortunately, the night is dark, or there would be but little chance of saving the silver of the mine." He turned again to his note-book, glanced back through the pages, and again started his pencil.

"That was the position yesterday, after the Minerva