a horse fell, or ran wildly with empty
saddle, as the balls went home.

Pedro loosened his revolver in his belt and sprang to his horse. The
_barquero_ had become visible again, and was standing beside him; on
his face was a malicious, yet not wholly unkindly grin. "Quick!" he
said. "Get into the boat. You yet have time." As an officer of the
_contraresguardo_ he hated Pedro cordially; but he had no especial
wish to see him shot down, now that the smugglers had recaptured the
_contrabando_ and the fight was won. But Pedro already was mounted,
and his horse was headed not toward the river, but toward his men. The
_barquero_ saw his purpose, and seized his bridle with a strong hand.

"God! Senor Captain, would you ride straight to your death?"

"Let loose, or I shoot!"

Like a flash Pedro's revolver was drawn and cocked and within an inch
of the _barquero's_ head.

"You are a fool, a madman! Go!" And the man staggered aside as the
horse, bounding forward, sharp stricken with the spurs, brushed
against him, and nearly threw him to the ground.

"_Es mi deber!_" "'Tis my duty!" came ringing back through the
rush of air as Pedro rode furiously onward; and it seemed to the
_barquero_--yet this was so strange a thing that he could not trust
his ears--that there was gladness, nay, even triumph, in Pedro's tone.

Whether spoken in sorrow or in hope, certain it is that these were the
last words which the _capitan_ Pedro spoke on earth.

* * * * *

In Monterey there was no knowledge of the loss and of the gaining
back again from the _contraresguardo_ of a part of Pepe's treasure;
no knowledge that treachery had come in to defeat Pepe's well-laid
plans. Therefore when at last the momentous day arrived, there was
with Pepe's friends a glad expectancy and happy hope. Under all, of
course, was somewhat of fear that even in the moment of its success
failure might come and dash the gallant plan. And because of such
dismal doubt, Tobalito's face at times was bereft of its accustomed
cheeriness, and for minutes together he would sit silent, the while
mechanically polishing the brass number that, as a _cargador_, he wore
upon his breast, as was his wont on the rare occasions when his mind
was beset by troublous thoughts. But these fears, in which, also, the
others shared, had no endurance; for all had steady faith in the
all-powerfulness of Pepe's lucky star. So, slowly, the day wore on,
and at las