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"Senor Harding, two Mexican house servants, and a Chinaman," and the vaquero

laughed.

"I must be going," Jose announced after a moment. "It is a long ride for an old

man from my poor home to Cuivaca, and back again."

The vaqueros were paying no further attention to him, and the Indian passed out

and sought his pony; but when he had mounted and ridden from town he took a

strange direction for one whose path lies to the east, since he turned his pony's

head toward the northwest.

Jose had ridden far that day, since Billy had left his humble hut. He had gone to

the west to the little rancho of one of Pesita's adherents who had dispatched a

boy to carry word to the bandit that his Captain Byrne had escaped the Villistas,

and then Jose had ridden into Cuivaca by a circuitous route which brought him

up from the east side of the town.

Now he was riding once again for Pesita; but this time he would bear the

information himself. He found the chief in camp and after begging tobacco and a

cigarette paper the Indian finally reached the purpose of his visit.

"Jose has just come from Cuivaca," he said, "and there he drank with all the

Mexican vaqueros of El Orobo Rancho--ALL, my general, you understand. It

seems that Esteban has carried off the beautiful senorita of El Orobo Rancho,

and the vaqueros tell Jose that ALL the American vaqueros have ridden in search

of her--ALL, my general, you understand. In such times of danger it is odd that

the gringos should leave El Orobo thus unguarded. Only the rich Senor Harding,

two house servants, and a Chinaman remain."

A man lay stretched upon his blankets in a tent next to that occupied by Pesita.

At the sound of the speaker's voice, low though it was, he raised his head and

listened. He heard every word, and a scowl settled upon his brow. Barbara stolen!

Mr Harding practically alone upon the ranch! And Pesita in possession of this

information!

Bridge rose to his feet. He buckled his cartridge belt about his waist and picked

up his carbine, then he crawled under the rear wall of his tent and walked slowly

off in the direction of the picket line where the horses were tethered.

"Ah, Senor Bridge," said a pleasant voice in his ear; "where to?"

Bridge turned quickly to look into the smiling, evil face of Rozales.

Oh," he replied, "I'm going out to see if I can't find some shooting. It's awfully

dull sitting around here doing nothing."

The Mucker