Gilbert jumped up.  He thought he would go mad if this sort of thing kept up.  “Good God, man!” he cried.  “After what you’ve done, you can talk like that?”

“What have I done?” inquired the bandit, blandly.  “Well, what I done?”

Gilbert looked at him in amazement.  “You killed him!  That’s all.”

Lopez smiled.  “Sure!” He let the word loiter on his tongue.  He pulled it out like so much molasses candy.  “I killed him—­sure.  Was in ze way.  What else could I do?”

“You’ve put a barrier between us.  We’re of a different brand, a different calibre.  Don’t you see?”

“Ees no way for pliz you.  If I do not kill ze ’usband, ees all wrong.  If I do kill ze ’usband, ees all wrong.  Say,” he looked at him in confusion, “what ze ’ell shall I do wiz ze damn ’usband, anyway?” He puckered his brow.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Gilbert said in desperation.  What was the use in arguing with this barbarian?  Yes, he was a barbarian—­nothing else.  They were miles apart.  Centuries of belief and training separated them.

“You don’t know?” Lopez said.  “Pretty soon you find out.  It surprise you now.  But pretty damn soon when all shall go and leave you alone wiz ’er, you shall be sensible, too—­like Mexican.  To live is more strong as law.  Wait and see, my frand, wait and see!” He shook his head mysteriously.

Pedro stepped forward.  “Here is a pistol,” he said to his master in Spanish.

Lopez looked at him.  “Ah, gratia, Pedro!” He took the weapon from him and patted him on the back.  Then he whispered something in his ear, handed it back, and Pedro gave it to Gilbert.

“Ze ranger.  Zey come,” he said as he did so.

“Bueno. I go,” said Lopez, and started toward the door.  Then he turned to Gilbert. “Astuavago adios. Maybe we will meet again, maybe no. Quien sabe?” He waved his hand, gave one last look at Pell’s limp form, and cried, “Adios!” He was gone—­vanished like a ghost.

They all were mute in the little room.  They heard the hoof beats of the horses as they galloped away.  Fainter and fainter grew the sound.  Then silence.  And meanwhile the great night was falling like a curtain around them all.  Through the doorway came the last beautiful beams of the sun.  The mountains were like giant sentinels, row on row, unbelievably near in the semi-darkness.  Far off, now and then, a bird could be heard calling.  Soon darkness would envelop the earth, and this day of doom would be gone forever.  Never might they see Pancho Lopez again.  Gilbert would go north; and Lucia—­He could not think.

Hardy broke the silence.  He came over and looked down at Pell.  “We can’t touch him till the coroner gits here,” he said grimly.  There were, as always, ghastly details to be attended to.

“But I better make sure,” said “Red,” kneeling beside the body.  “Right in the head.  Not a chance.”  He was peering down at the gaunt face.  “No, not a chance when you get it there.”