"Ah, amigo," the thin voice cracked in a spasm of forced heartiness,
"ah, it was a banquet! Si, si, a banquet! Only, if there were but a
liqueur, a liqueur to give the after-cigar that last added relish,
verdad, senor?"

Driscoll tapped his "after-cigar" till the ashes fell. "Well? he asked.

"Ai de mi, caballero, but I am heavy with regrets. I can offer nothing.
My poor cognac--no, not after such a feast. But whiskey--ah, whiskey is
magnifico. It is American."

He stopped, with a genial rubbing of his bony hands. But his sad
good-fellowship was transparent enough, and in the darkness his eyes
were beads of malice. Driscoll half grunted. A long way round for a
drink, he thought. "Here," he said, getting out his flask, "have a pull
at this."

Murguia took it greedily. He had seen the flask before. The covering of
leather was battered and peeled. "Perhaps a little--water?" he faltered.
Driscoll nodded, and off the old Mexican ambled with the flask. When he
returned, he had a glass, into which he had poured some of the liquor.
The canteen he handed back to the trooper, who without a word replaced
it in his pocket. Murguia lingered. He sipped his toddy absently.

"I, I wonder why the friends of the senoritas do not come?" he ventured.

"Want to get rid of them, eh, Murgie?"

The old man shrugged his shoulders. "And why not? You may not believe
me, senor, but should I not feel easier if they were--well, out of the
reach of Don Rodrigo?"

"Out of----Look here, where's the danger now?"

"Ai, senor, don't be too sure. Colonel Dupin still does not come, and it
might be--because the guerrillas have stopped him."

"Man alive, he had 'em running!"

"H'm, yes, but there's plenty more. This very village breeds them, feeds
them, welcomes them home. Don Rodrigo can gather ten times what he had
to-day. And if he does, and if, if he is looking for the senoritas
again----"

Driscoll shifted on his blanket. "I see," he drawled. "F'r instance, if
the senoritas vanish before he gets here, he won't blame you? Oh no, you
were asleep, you couldn't know that I had up and carried 'em off.
Anyhow, you'd rather risk Rodrigo than Colonel Dupin----Yes, I see." He
tucked his saddle under his head, and lay flat, blinking at the stars.
"This trail go on to Valles?" he inquired drowsily.

Murguia's small eyes brightened over him. "Yes," he said, eagerly.

"Correct," yawned the American, "I've already made sure."

"And if----" But a