gray ones"--he fingered them contemptuously--"would not, would not buy a
drunkard's pardon from our cheapest magistrate."

The slur on Mexican justice only emphasized his scorn of the Confederate
notes.

"Give 'em here!" Driscoll snatched them from the yellow, desecrating
fingers. "These here are promises," he muttered, "and we've been
fighting for four years to make them good. For four years, even the
children and old men, and--yes, and the women folks back of us!"

The impulsive mood carried him further. He counted and pocketed the
despised notes. Then from an humble tobacco pouch he sorted out a number
of British sovereigns, and flung them into Murguia's hat.

"Prob'bly my last blow for them promises," he murmured to himself.

Meantime a burro back of them had become possessed of an idea, which for
some reason necessitated his halting stock still directly across the
trail to think it over. The caravan behind stopped also, while the
arrieros snorted "Ar-re!" and "Bur-ro!" through their noses, and prodded
the beast. Jacqueline lost patience. She touched her horse, which
bounded out of the trail and galloped past the outfit almost to Driscoll
and Murguia. So she had seen the exchange of money and she had heard.
She looked thoughtfully at the trooper's straight line of back and
shoulder.

"Monsieur the Chevalier," she murmured softly, as though trying the
sound of the words for the fast time. She would have supposed that none
but a Frenchman could have done that.

As to Don Anastasio, the Quixotic redemption in specie was beyond him
entirely. He gave it up. The counting of discs was more tangible to his
philosophy. His rusty black tile, so wondrously become a cornucopia of
wealth, had by that same magic upset the old fellow into a kind of
hysterical gaiety, which was most elfish and uncanny. He motioned
Driscoll to ride faster.

"Ai, ai, mi coronel," he cackled, when they were gone out of hearing,
"you talk of bandits! Ai, ai, Dios mio, _you_ have robbed
_them_!"

"What the devil----"

"Si senor, robbed _them_! A-di-o-dio-dios! here's more than they
took from me!"

"N-o?" said Driscoll in dismay. "Gracious, I hadn't any time to count
money when I searched 'em!"

"You!--searched Don Tiburcio?"

"Why not? Isn't he a thief?"

"But--he permitted----"

"W'y yes, they both let me, I had the drop. But they got indignant and
called me a thief--I believe they'd of called a policeman if there'd
been one handy,