"It was the big negro! Although many years had elapsed since I had seen
him wearing the bat wings at those unholy rites, I knew him instantly.
"On a little table close behind me where I stood lay a loaded revolver.
I snatched it in a flash and fired shot after shot at the retreating
figure."
Colonel Menendez shrugged his shoulders and selected a fresh cigarette
paper.
"Gentlemen," he continued, "from that moment until this I have gone in
hourly peril of my life. Whether I hit my man or missed him, I have
never known to this day. If he lives or is dead I cannot say. But--" he
paused impressively--"I have told you of something that was nailed to
the hut of a certain native girl? Before she died I knew that it was a
death-token.
"On the morning after the episode which I have just related attached to
the main door of the hacienda was found that same token."
"And it was??" said Harley, eagerly.
"It was the wing of a bat!
"I am perhaps a hasty man. It is in my blood. I tore the unclean thing
from the panel and stamped it under my feet. No one of the servants who
had drawn my attention to its presence would consent to touch it.
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