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So far there had crept into his consciousness no disquieting doubts as to the

consistency of his recent action in joining the force of a depredating Mexican

outlaw. Billy knew nothing of the political conditions of the republic. Had Pesita

told him that he was president of Mexico, Billy could not have disputed the

statement from any knowledge of facts which he possessed. As a matter of fact

about all Billy had ever known of Mexico was that it had some connection with an

important place called Juarez where running meets were held.

To Billy Byrne, then, Pesita was a real general, and Billy, himself, a bona fide

captain. He had entered an army which was at war with some other army. What

they were warring about Billy knew not, nor did he care. There should be fighting

and he loved that--that much he knew. The ethics of Pesita's warfare troubled

him not. He had heard that some great American general had said: "War is hell."

Billy was willing to take his word for it, and accept anything which came in the

guise of war as entirely proper and as it should be.

The afternoon was far gone when Billy drew rein in the camp of the outlaw band.

Pesita with the bulk of his raiders was out upon some excursion to the north.

Only half a dozen men lolled about, smoking or sleeping away the hot day. They

looked at Billy in evident surprise when they saw him riding in alone; but they

asked no questions and Billy offered no explanation--his report was for the ears

of Pesita only.

The balance of the day Billy spent in acquiring further knowledge of Spanish by

conversing with those of the men who remained awake, and asking innumerable

questions. It was almost sundown when Pesita rode in. Two riderless horses were

led by troopers in the rear of the little column and three men swayed painfully in

their saddles and their clothing was stained with blood.

Evidently Pesita had met with resistance. There was much voluble chattering on

the part of those who had remained behind in their endeavors to extract from

their returning comrades the details of the day's enterprise. By piecing together

the various scraps of conversation he could understand Billy discovered that

Pesita had ridden far to demand tribute from a wealthy ranchero, only to find that

word of his coming had preceded him and brought a large detachment of Villa's

regulars who concealed themselves about the house and outbuildings until Pesita

and his entire force were well within close range.

We were lucky to get off as well as we did," said an officer.

Billy grinned inwardly as he thought of the pleasant frame of mind in which

Pesita might now be expected to receive the news that eight of his troopers had

been killed and his two "guests" safely removed from the sphere of his hospitality.

213

The Mucker