o wished
to amaze him.

"Because he was tied on." Dade failed just there to keep a betraying
hardness out of his voice. "The Viligantes were--going to--hang him."
The last two words were cut short off with the click of his jaws
coming together.

Manuel thereupon swore more sincerely and spilled beans from his
tortilla scoop. He knew the ways of the Committee. Four months
ago--when the Committee was newer and more just--they had hanged the
third cousin of his half-sister's husband. It is true, the man had
killed a woman with a knife; yet Manuel's black beard bristled when he
thought of the affront to his hypothetical kinship.

"I had to take the two together," Dade explained, trying with better
success to speak lightly. "And now, if I turn the buckskin loose, he
may go back--and he may not. I was wondering--"

Manuel cut him short. "To-morrow I ride to town," he said. "I will
take the caballo back with me, if that pleases the senors. I will turn
him loose near the Mission, and he will go to his stable.

"The senor," he added, "was very brave. _Madre de Dios!_ To run away
with a prisoner of the Vigilantes! But they will surely kill the senor
for that; the taking of the horse, that is nothing." His teeth shone
briefly under his black mustache. "One can die but once," he pointed
out, and emphasized his meaning by a swift glance at Jack, moodily
nibbling the edge of a corn cake. "But if the horse does not please
the senor--"

Dade caught his meaning and laughed a little over it. "The horse," he
said, "belongs to the Committee; my friend does not."

"Si, Senor--but surely that is true. Only--" he stroked his crisp
beard thoughtfully--"the senors would better go to-morrow to the
patron. There the gringos dare not come. In this poor hut the senors
may not be safe--for we are but three poor vaqueros when all are here.
We will do our best--"

"Three vaqueros," declared Dade with fine diplomacy, "as brave as the
three who live here, would equal twenty of the Committee. But we will
not let it come to that."

Manuel took the flattery with a glimpse of white teeth and a
deprecatory wave of the hand, and himself qualified it modestly
afterward.

"With the knife--perhaps. But the gringos have guns which speak fast.
Still, we would do our best--"

"Say, if he's going back to town to-morrow," spake Jack suddenly,
from where he reclined in the shadow "why can't I write a note to Bill
Wilson and have him send down my guns?