It was not difficult for James O’Hara to realize that his presence on the Limited was discovered. The rolling of the porter’s eyes in his direction and the interested glances of the train men, as they took especial occasion to glance at him was enough to tell that fact to this man, keyed up as he was from sheer excitement. He sat very tense and stared out of the window, every faculty alert, his body straight and rigid.

When he did act it was with tiger-like agility and without an instant’s forethought.

As the train neared the Albuquerque station, a women across the aisle raised her window to lean out and see more clearly. She had no time to make a further move. O’Hara had leaped across the aisle, and brushing her aside, had flung himself through the window of the now slowly moving train.

It was done so quietly and so quickly that it was a few seconds before the occupants of the car realized what had happened. A hue and cry was then immediately raised. The whole car, which up till now had been the usual poised and indifferent gathering, turned loose into a veritable bedlam.

As the train stopped at the station the passengers piled out one after another to gaze across the sand by the tracks and watch the fleeing man. But their amazement was great when, strain their eyes as they would, they could see no trace of any man. The only sign of activity was the flying dust of a distant automobile, so they turned their attention to the officers who had been waiting for the refugee and were now hastily mounting ponies to ride in pursuit of the fleeing man, undoubtedly hidden somewhere in the sagebrush.

As the horsemen vanished in the cloud of dust, the tourists, once again their normal and conventional selves, turned their full attention to the most conventional but utterly abnormal Indians of the Harvey Eating House.

For a moment O’Hara was stunned by his fall to the ground, but shaking himself and finding no bones broken he rose and started for the narrow sand road, still too dazed to know just what he did. Subconsciously, he heard the hum of a motor and turned aside to let it pass, but a voice hailed him, speaking in the perfect accent of a cultured gentlemen: “Can I give you a lift?”

Scarcely noticing the magnificent car which slowed up beside him, O’Hara, swung open the door of the tonneau and leaped in. Even as he did so the car gained speed, until at fully forty miles an hour they were speeding farther and farther into the desert.

The man at the wheel did not speak a further word. His whole attention was engrossed in keeping his powerful machine in the rut of the narrow road that stretched itself interminably out into the sand of the desert. The sun was glaring fiercely down upon them and the sand reflected its intense heat. O’Hara leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. The rush of air, hot as it was, revived him and he felt relaxed and quite indifferent as to where he went.

The car plunged at its terrific speed and yet the little roadway, the far horizon, the gray of the sagebrush and the cactus never changed. It seemed to stretch on, gold and drab, into infinity. The sun sank gradually in the West, until it hung a great red ball of fire, just balancing above the dim silhouette of the foothills. Still O’Hara dozed and the driver of the car continued his unceasing and perfectly controlled speed.

Presently, however, the driver turned abruptly and addressed O’Hara.

“I saw your leap through the car window.” He spoke with peculiar distinctness, a clearer English than O’Hara was accustomed to hear.

By this time the fugitive was fully awake and himself again, and he noticed with keen interest the splendid physique of the man addressing him. His shoulders had an erect bearing that instantly reminded one of long military training, and his face was highly intelligent, though the mouth and eyes were indefinably cold and cruel.

O’Hara waited quietly while the man continued:

“You see I knew you were escaping from something; I could at any time deliver you to the authorities. But I also know that you are quite intelligent. I have many business interests in Mexico and I need a keen, intelligent agent to attend to them for me. If you fail me, there are always the authorities, remember. If not, you’ll find this work both pleasant and lucrative.

“We are staying out here on account of my wife’s health. Her condition is improved, but we still fear a moist climate, and of course I remain with her. Do you accept this work? Will you keep your own counsel, or—” and the cut of a knife was the tone of the man “—shall we return to Albuquerque?”

The first impression of distrust of the man deepened into conviction with O’Hara, but no choice seemed open to him. So with a strange foreboding in his heart and with a sense of toils encircling and strangling him, he accepted the position.