senors," Sanchez spoke with unusual crispness. "You have
come for horses, doubtless, amigo alcalde?"

"Ah--er--yes," said Bartlett. "The necessities of war are great," he
added apologetically.

"And suppose we refuse?" Benito Windham pressed forward, blazing out the
words in passionate anger. "Suppose we deny your manufactured
requisitions? Whence came the horse you sit like a very clown? I will
tell you, tyrant and despoiler. It was stolen from my mother by
your thieves."

"Benito, hold your peace," said Sanchez sternly. "I will deal with this
good gentleman and his friends. They shall be our guests for a time."

As though the words had been a signal, five lariats descended apparently
from a clear sky, each falling over the head of a member of Bartlett's
party. They settled neatly and were tightened, pinning the arms of
riders helplessly.

"Well done, amigos," commented Sanchez as a quintet of grinning vaqueros
rode up from the rear. "As you have so aptly said, the necessities of
war are paramount, alcalde."

"What's the meaning of this?" demanded Bartlett. "Release us instantly,
or you shall suffer. Do you think," he sneered, "that a handful of
greasers can defy the United States?"

"Perchance, with so important an official as the great Alcalde Bartlett
for your hostage, we can reach a compromise on certain points," said
Sanchez. "Come, you shall suffer no hardship, if you accept the
situation reasonably."

"I warn you that this means death or imprisonment to all of you,"
Bartlett shouted.

"Ah, senor, the risks of war are many." Sanchez' teeth flashed. He
clucked to his horse and the little cavalcade wound, single-file, up a
narrow horse-trail toward the hills.

They passed many bands of horsemen, all armed, saluting Sanchez as their
chief. Among them were owners and vaqueros from a score of ranches.
There was something grim, determined in their manner which foreboded
serious trouble.

One of Bartlett's fellow-captives leaned toward him, whispering: "Those
fellows mean business. They're like hornets if you stir 'em up too far,
these greasers."

"Yes, by Jove! And they mean to sting!" said another.

CHAPTER VIII

McTURPIN'S COUP

Yerba Buena was in an uproar. Sanchez' capture of Alcalde Bartlett and
his party had brought home with a vengeance the war which hitherto was
but an echo from far Mexico. Now the peaceful pueblo was an armed camp.
Volunteers rode in from San Jose, San Juan and other