It is a calm and quiet glance, free from fear, anger, or pain; but it somehow sends the blood curdling through our veins. He bowed his head over his book again, taking no further notice of us. The men look at me compassionately, and hold their peace. I make one more effort:—
"Joseph Tryan, don't you know me? the surveyor who surveyed your ranch, the Espíritu Santo? Look up, old man!"
He shuddered and wrapped himself closer in his blanket. Presently he repeated to himself, "The surveyor who surveyed your ranch,—Espíritu Santo," over and over again, as though it were a lesson he was trying to fix in his memory.
I was turning sadly to the boatmen, when he suddenly caught me fearfully by the hand and said,—
"Hush!"
We were silent.
"Listen!" He puts his arm around my neck and whispers in my ear, "I'm a moving off!"
"Moving off?"
"Hush! Don't speak so loud. Moving off. Ah! wot 's that? Don't you hear?—there! listen!"
We listen, and hear the water gurgle and click beneath the floor.
"It's them wot he sent!—Old Altascar sent. They've been here all night. I heard 'em first in
