Suddenly Pedro flung his serape over the sleeper's head, and then threw his powerful frame and tremendous weight full upon Concho's upturned face, while his strong arms clasped the blanket-pinioned limbs of his victim.

There was a momentary upheaval, a spasm, and a struggle; but the tightly-rolled blanket clung to the unfortunate man like cerements.
There was no noise, no outcry, no sound of struggle.

There was nothing to be seen but the peaceful, prostrate figures of the two men darkly outlined on the ledge.

They might have been sleeping in each other's arms.

In the black silence the stealthy tread of Wiles in the brush above was distinctly audible.
Gradually the struggles grew fainter.