will be worth more to you than gold. Don't try to rope any stock grazing
round here to-night. I might wake up quick and make a mistake. Men look
alike in the moonlight--and we'll have a moon."

"It shall be as the señor says. It is fate."

"All right, amigo. But it isn't fate. It's making fool mistakes when you
or your countrymen tackle a job like Vaca tackled. Just get me a couple
of blankets. I'll sleep out here to-night."

Juan Armigo plodded to the adobe. The lamplight showed his face beaded
with sweat. He shuffled to an inner room, and came out with blankets on
his arm. Vaca lay on a bed-roll in the corner of the larger room, and
near him stood Ramon.

"The señor sleeps with the horses," said Armigo significantly.

Ramon bent his head and muttered a prayer.

"And if you pray," said Armigo, shifting the blankets from one arm to
the other, "pray then that the two horses that you borrowed may return.
As for your Uncle José, he will not die."

"And we shall be taken to the prison," said Ramon."

"You should have killed the gringo." And Armigo's tone was
matter-of-fact. "Or perhaps told him where you had hidden the gold. He
might have let you go, then."

Ramon shook his head. Armigo's suggestion was too obviously a question