This met with the unqualified approval of all, and a few

moments later the men had saddled their ponies and were

galloping away in the direction of sun-baked Cuivaca. They

sang now, and were happy, for they were as little boys playing

hooky from school--not bad men; but rather irresponsible

children.

Once in Cuivaca they swooped down upon the drinking-place,

where, with what little money a few of them had left

they proceeded to get drunk.

Later in the day an old, dried-up Indian entered. He was

hot and dusty from a long ride.

"Hey, Jose!" cried one of the vaqueros from El Orobo

Rancho; "you old rascal, what are you doing here?"

Jose looked around upon them. He knew them all--they

represented the Mexican contingent of the riders of El Orobo.

Jose wondered what they were all doing here in Cuivaca at

one time. Even upon a pay day it never had been the rule of

El Orobo to allow more than four men at a time to come to

town.

"Oh, Jose come to buy coffee and tobacco," he replied. He

looked about searchingly. "Where are the others?" he asked,

"--the gringos?"

"They have ridden after Esteban," explained one of the

vaqueros. "He has run off with Senorita Harding."

Jose raised his eyebrows as though this was all news.

"And Senor Grayson has gone with them?" he asked. "He

was very fond of the senorita."

"Senor Grayson has run away," went on the other speaker.

"The other gringos wished to hang him, for it is said he has

bribed Esteban to do this thing."

Again Jose raised his eyebrows. "Impossible!" he ejaculated.

"And who then guards the ranch?" he asked presently.

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