ath in horror.

"Those babies!" she gasped, clutching Hard.

"I don't believe they're in there," he whispered. "I don't see a sign of
life--not even the burro."

"Henry, they've gone to town to spend the money that Mr. Scott gave them
this morning!"

"That's it. They've taken the burro along to bring home the supplies.
Don't say anything; let them find it out. It's not our funeral."

It was soon apparent that the Soria family had gone--root and branch.
There was no response either to Angel's rude salutation or to the search
which followed.

"They're in a hole," chuckled Hard, shrewdly. "I'll bet you a dollar that
they meant to leave us here and pay the Sorias to hold us. Now, they've
either got to take us along or leave a guard for us, which is what they'll
probably do."

"You don't think there's any chance of his letting us go?"

"Does he look like a chap who lets anything get away from him? Well, I'm
glad he's worried, anyhow."

Angel Gonzales was worried, no mistake about that. The Sorias had upset
his plans exceedingly. He did not want to burden himself with prisoners;
his horses, fed only on the scant growth of the land, were in no condition
to carry double. He did not want to leave any of his men behind, because
he expected to need every one of them in his proposed campaign. On the
other hand, he hated to give up the dazzling prospect of a ransom. He had
never played the ransom game, but he knew the ropes and he longed to try.

"Who's that coming up the road?" demanded Cortes, breaking off a dialogue
with his chief.

A man--or, as it developed at closer range--a boy, a very ragged boy,
riding a sweating horse, was tearing madly in their direction. Boylike, he
pulled his poor beast to its haunches and gave what was intended for a
military salute as he saw the redoubtable Gonzales.

"Well, what's the matter? Who are you?" demanded that gentleman,
unencouragingly.

"Senor Juan Pachuca----" gasped the panting messenger, "he sends me to say
to Captain Gonzales to make speed. He waits--at his _rancho_. He has news
of the revolution," finished the boy, proudly.

"News! Humph, is that all he's got?" demanded Angel, promptly.

"Men, and horses and plunder--oh, much plunder!" The boy's eyes shone.

"So? That's better, eh, Cortes? Shall we go, or----"

"Senor Pachuca says to make speed. Much speed," reiterated the messenger.
"The troops went South only last night."

"We had better go," said Cortes, eage