y dressed, showing much ornamentation both on his
own person and that of his mount in the way of silver buckles and
spangles. He was the youngest of the crowd, not over twenty-two or
three from the look of him, with a nicely groomed black mustache. The
horse under him was a superb creature, a great savage fiery-eyed sorrel
stallion.

"Thanks," returned Barlow. "But my friend and I are on our way over
there." He pointed. "We are students of entymology and are studyin'
certain new butterflies." All along, until the very moment, he had
fully intended explaining by saying they were on a hunting trip. But
as he spoke it struck him that the slopes about his three peaks would
not harbor a jack rabbit, and furthermore on the instant a big golden
butterfly went flapping by him, putting the idea into his head.

The young Mexican nodded but insisted.

"There will be time for butterfly catching tomorrow," he said
carelessly. "Today you will honor us by riding back to the Hacienda
Montezuma. You are expected, senores; everything is prepared for you.
_Oyez_, Pedro, Juanito," turning in his saddle and addressing two of
his men. "Rope two horses and let _los Americanos_ have yours." And
when both Pedro and Juanito frowned and hesitated, his eyes flashed and
he cried out angrily at them: "_Pronto_! It is commanded!"

They rode away toward a herd of horses half a mile down the valley,
their riatas soon in their hands and widening and swinging into great
loops. Presently they were back, leading two captured ponies.
Dismounting, they made impromptu hackamores of their ropes and mounted
bareback, leaving their own saddles empty for Kendric and Barlow.

"Look here, _amigo_," said Kendric then. "We're much obliged for the
kind invitation. But you've got the wrong guests. If your outfit was
expecting newcomers it was someone else."

The Mexican lifted his fine black brows.

"Then are you not Senores Kendric and Barlow?" he asked impudently.

They stared wonderingly at him, then at each other.

"You're some little guesser, stranger," grunted Barlow. "Who told you
all you know?"

"Go easy, Twisty," laughed Kendric, his interest caught. Affably, to
the Mexican, he said: "You're right, senor. And, to complete the
introductions, would you mind telling us who you are?"

"I?" He touched up his mustache and again his eyes flashed;
involuntarily, as he spoke his name, he laid his hand on the grip of
the revolver bumping