him prostrate upon the ground. "Company B," continued Gonzales, "take the boy and report to San Jose." As Ray commenced his march on foot over the blistering sands, the father watched with anxious eyes and wondered what his fate might be. While the Mexicans refreshed themselves over coffee and tortillas, they proceeded to evolve plans for the disposal of their victim. As a silent auditor, Don Carlos' spirits sank into the "slough of despondency," and he shuddered as he resolutely forced himself to think of other things. Presently excited voices attracted his attention again as Gonzales sprang to his feet exclaiming, "No! No! He shall not slip out of my hands. I will be revenged on this American dog!" "Yes," answered one of the Mexicans, also rising, "the cup of revenge shall be yours to fill with all that is sweet to you, but let us also annex some American gold. We hold the gringo's son for whom we will name a ransom to be delivered by Don Carlos himself. Upon delivery of the money, the son shall be liberated and Don Carlos turned over to you, sabe?" Gonzales reluctantly agreed to this plan and Don Carlos set out to obtain the money. Upon returning at the specified time, Don Carlos found no one awaiting him and learned that Villa had attacked and killed Gonzales and his entire force at San Jose. Confident that Ray had shared the fate of the others, Don Carlos returned with a heavy heart to his home in New Mexico. But heavy hearts, like the rain clouds, cannot re- main sodden forever. With the telegram, "B. B. Ranch, Texas; Dear Father: Escaped from Mexico this morning; look for me soon. Ray," the load of sorrow was dropped, and Don Carlos again felt the joy that had been his in Chihuahua. Sir Archibald's Dream BY HAZEL OGDEN A. LONE, embittered, the world forsaken, Sir Archibald of the proud Castle Flewhaken, His soul to its crystal depths torn and shaken, Sat silently musing in his luxuriant lair; Nor suffered high or low to interrupt him there, Caring not how the rest of the world might fare. The fire was twitting in the chimney hole, Cracking and sizzling in each radiant coal, Surrounded by silence that engulfs the soul. Weird shadows were flickering on the quaint, old wall With faintest fire-glow creeping gently over all, Shooting out, then dying as the dead embers fall. The age-worn shutters were fastened tight Against the leering dark of invading night, As if to detain the faint, flickering light. Silence reigned supreme in this ancient hall Over every mouse or chance footfall; Not even the sound of a night bird's call. And the muffled beatings of Sir Archibald's heart Kept silent time to the waves on the mart, As if designed by a great master's art. Thus, sat brooding, this nobleman bold, For the same old love that will never grow old, Love for a maiden, to him dearer than gold, Companion, sweetheart, lover and wife Through joy and pleasure, sorrow and strife, Till the tragic end of her happy life. One by one, the dark hours sped, Filled only with stillness and direst dread, By fear, from the treacheries of a crazed brain fed.