the rope he had left there some hours earlier. They were in a large
fenced pasture where were kept the horses of the officers. At one end
could be seen dimly the outline of a little corral.

"You boys head across that way and wait for me. The remuda is at the
other end of the pasture under the care of a boy," explained the
cowpuncher.

"Hadn't I better go along with you in case of trouble?" asked Farrar.

"There isn't going to be any trouble. I'm getting the horses for
Pasquale. See?"

After the others had left him, Steve lit a cigarette and sauntered to
the far end of the field. Presently he gave a call that brought an
answer. The horses were grazing in a loose herd that covered perhaps a
third of an acre. From behind them emerged a youth on horseback.

"I want four horses in a hurry," announced the range-rider.

"What for?"

"Never mind what for, compadre. I didn't ask old Gabriel what for when
he sent me," grumbled the messenger.

"Why didn't you say for Pasquale?" The young man was preparing his rope
swiftly and efficiently. "Did the general say what horses?"

"He named the roan with the white stockings and the white-nosed
buckskin."

"Then he's going to travel fast and far. Why, in the devil's name, since
he is going to be married in the morning?"

"Why does the general always do what isn't expected? The saints know. I
don't," growled Steve.

Both of them were expert ropers. In five minutes the American was
swallowed in the darkness. He was astride the bare back of the buckskin
and was leading the other ponies. As soon as he knew he was safely out
of sight and hearing, he deflected toward the corral.

His friends were waiting for him anxiously. Steve dropped lightly to the
ground.

"Hold the horses a minute, Frank," he said.

Striding to a feed-stall filled with alfalfa, he tossed the hay aside
and dragged to the light a saddle. Presently he uncovered a second, a
third, and a fourth.

"Brought them here last night--stole them from the storehouse," he
explained casually.

"You didn't overlook any bets--thought of everything, even to
saddle-blankets and water-bags already full," contributed Farrar,
digging up these supplies from the alfalfa.

Steve cinched the saddles himself, though Farrar was a fair horseman. If
it came to a pinch the turning of a saddle might spoil everything, and
so far as he could the range-rider was forestalling any accidents that
might be due to carelessness.

"How l