rstand English," shivered Clara.

Angel grinned as he came back to them. "The senorita does not ride very
well," he said, mockingly. Clara did not reply.

"I suppose," she reflected, with a gleam of humor, "that I ought to be
grateful to be taken for a 'senorita,' but how can I be grateful for
anything when I'm being rattled to pieces?"

Angel joined himself to them and they rode three abreast. He began to ask
questions; questions which plainly were designed to inform him as to the
financial standing of his guests or his prisoners whichever he chose to
make them.

"He's as persistent as a society reporter," growled Hard, under his
breath, as Angel relinquished his place to one of his men and fell back to
ride with Cortes. "It's a case of ransom, all right."

"Shall we make a break for it?" whispered Clara. "If I let this thing go
he'll be over in the foothills before you can whistle."

"No, they'd shoot. Better not risk it."

"But, Henry, I can't stand it! And I look so! I never was so altogether
wretched in all my life," groaned Clara.

"Be patient, that's a good girl, until we see what they're going to do."

"If that devil's face is any index to his character, he's going to do
something awful."

Angel Gonzales, in fact, was justifying Clara's opinion of him.

"The woman has money and property, and so, I think, has he," he said to
Cortes. "If they have money, they have friends, and friends will pay,
eh?"

"Sometimes," admitted Cortes. "But we are in a hurry, _amigo_. If Pachuca
has come this far, he means business. We had better be on our way to meet
him."

"Yes, that's so. Our horses are not strong enough to carry double, either.
We'll leave the Americanos with Manuel Soria and pay him to keep them for
a few days until we know what we want to do with them, eh?"

"Not bad," agreed Cortes. "Manuel is a good deal of a fool but his woman
is smart. Give her a gun and she will know how to use it. She will do it
for me because I make love to her now and then," he added, with something
which in a civilized being would pass for a simper.

"Humph, she'd do it for me because I'll pay her some good money and
promise her more," said the unsympathetic Gonzales.

By this time they had reached the Soria cabin, much to Clara's relief, and
the party dismounted. The cabin door was closed, and Angel, who evidently
wasted no time on the little courtesies of life, raised his pistol and
fired into it. Clara caught her bre