"I guess this is the quickest way," thought Donald as he gained
the sidewalk. "I'll not bother with a mozo. With American
soldiers on guard and my automatic in my pocket, I have nothing
to fear."
A couple of minutes later he was ringing the bell at Don
Esteban's house. He was hastily admitted and at once conducted to
that gentleman's presence, where he narrated hastily what had
occurred at the other house.
"Who is this old man?" Don Esteban asked of Donald.
Donald explained as best he could.
"Which is mighty little," he declared when he had finished. "He
is the greatest mystery we have ever encountered. There is no
doubt that he is an Indian, but he speaks English like an
Englishman."
"I must go and see him at once," declared Don Esteban, rising.
"I don't think you can, sir, to-night. I don't think the
physician would permit it."
"Well, then, the first thing in the morning. I thank you, young
sir. Won't you have a glass of wine before you go?"
"No, I think not," replied Donald. "I've never acquired that
Mexican habit yet. Good night, sir."
He left the house feeling greatly relieved that he had reported
the finding of the box and walked slowly along whistling merrily.
As he turned off the street upon which Don Esteban lived he heard
soft footsteps behind him and turned hastily.
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