. When Mexican
gentry begin hostilities, the innocent bystander gets the worst of
it,--especially the Americano. So it is just as well the latest
Richard in the field does not know whose bullet hit him in the leg,
and brought his horse down."

Tula, who since their entrance to the civilized surroundings of Mesa
Blanca, had apparently dropped all initiative, and was simply a little
Indian girl under orders, listened impassively to this curious
monologue. She evidently thought white people use many words for a
little meaning.

"The Deliverer says will you graciously come?" she stated for the
second time.

"Neither graciously, gracefully or gratefully, but I'll arrive," he
conceded. "His politeness sounds ominous. It is puzzling why I, a mere
trifle of an American ranch hand, should be given audience instead of
his distinguished lieutenant."

"Isidro and Clodomiro are talking much with him, and the man Marto is
silent, needing no guard," said Tula.

"Sure,--Rotil has the whole show buffaloed. Well, let's hope, child,
that he is not a mind reader, for we have need of all the ore we
brought out, and can't spare any for revolutionary subscriptions."

Kit followed Tula into the _sala_ where a rawhide cot had been placed,
and stretched on it was the man of Yaqui Spring.

One leg of his trousers was ripped up, and there was the odor of a
greasewood unguent in the room. Isidro was beside him, winding a
bandage below the knee. A yellow silk banda around the head of Rotil
was stained with red.

But he had evidently been made comfortable, for he was rolling a
cigarette and was calling Isidro "doctor." Two former vaqueros of Mesa
Blanca were there, and they nodded recognition to Kit. Rotil regarded
him with a puzzled frown, and then remembered, and waved his hand in
salute.

"Good day, senor, we meet again!" he said. "I am told that you are my
host and the friend of Senor Whitely. What is it you do here? Is it
now a prison, or a hospital for unfortunates?"

"Only a hospital for you, General, and I trust a serviceable one," Kit
hastened to assure him. "More of comfort might have been yours had you
sent a courier to permit of preparation."

"The service is of the best," and Rotil pointed to Isidro. "I've a
mind to take him along, old as he is! The boys told me he was the best
medico this side the range, and I believe it. As to courier," and he
grinned, "I think you had one, if you had read the message right."

"The sur