thankful for so much. He locked the doors on his late warden, put the keys in his pocket and left him to come out of his stunned condition as nature might repair him.
There appeared to be plenty of life in Simon, although it was pretty well driven back into its secret places. The water jar was heavy, of six quarts or more capacity; the broken pieces of it were half an inch thick. But not much thicker than Simon's head, Henderson thought. He had struck the rascal on his most vulnerable spot, over what in a well-balanced man would have been his small brain, but in Simon his principal seat of intelligence. He was only an animal.
Henderson passed out through the guard chamber where Simon's straw pallet lay heaped behindthe door, proof that he had been cautious last night, whatever cupidity had done for him today. Beyond this room the warehouse was familiar. It was a part not much frequented, only wood and lumber being stored there, piled in tiers high against the ceiling. Here Henderson paused to listen for what movement was about the place, and to form his plans upon the necessity of the moment.
Ordinarily an armed man could have taken all before him at Don Abrahan's place, few there being permitted to own or carry any farther-reaching weapon than a knife. But since the turmoil of the morning there was no knowing what guards Don Abrahan had set around his house, especially
