"Will you do what I tell you?"

The voice was sharp and imperious.

"Senor, I would do much for you. But this--"

The Mexican spread his hands helplessly.

"I cannot. It would be too bad a thing to do."

"Very well. I'll call Cash Dallam. Tell him who you are and how it
was you who was concerned in the theft of those horses from Diablo
River. You know what would happen to you then. You know--"

But the Mexican was down on his knees. His hands were raised in
mute appeal. His teeth' chattered like the busy heels of a clog
dancer.

"No, no, senor. Santa Maria, no, no!" he begged.

"It's entirely up to you," was the cold response. "Now will you do
as I say?"

"Yes, yes. A thousand times yes, senor. Anything you say--
anything."

"I thought so," rejoined Bellew grimly. He turned with a look of
triumph to the two silent spectators of the scene, who nodded
smilingly. The Mexican's pitiful agitation seemed only to amuse