e was in conversation
with Pesita, unburdening himself of his suspicions, and outlining a
plan.

"Do not send me in charge of the escort," he advised. "Send Captain
Byrne himself."

Pesita pooh-poohed the idea.

"But wait," urged Rozales. "Let the stranger ride in command, with a
half-dozen picked men who will see that nothing goes wrong. An hour
before dawn I will send two men--they will be our best shots--on ahead.
They will stop at a place we both know, and about noon the Captain
Byrne and his escort will ride back to camp and tell us that they
were attacked by a troop of Villa's men, and that both our guests were
killed. It will be sad; but it will not be our fault. We will swear
vengeance upon Villa, and the Captain Byrne will hate him as a good
Pesitista should."

"You have the cunning of the Coyote, my captain," cried Pesita. "It
shall be done as you suggest. Go now, and I will send for Captain Byrne,
and give him his orders for the morning."

As Rozales strolled away a figure rose from the shadows at the side of
Pesita's tent and slunk off into the darkness.

CHAPTER VIII. BILLY'S FIRST COMMAND

AND so it was that having breakfasted in the morning Bridge and Miguel
started downward toward the valley protected by an escort under Captain
Billy Byrne. An old service jacket and a wide-brimmed hat, both donated
by brother officers, constituted Captain Byrne's uniform. His mount was
the largest that the picket line of Pesita's forces could produce. Billy
loomed large amongst his men.

For an hour they rode along the trail, Billy and Bridge conversing upon
various subjects, none of which touched upon the one uppermost in the
mind of each. Miguel rode, silent and preoccupied. The evening before he
had whispered something to Bridge as he had crawled out of the darkness
to lie close to the American, and during a brief moment that morning
Bridge had found an opportunity to relay the Mexican's message to Billy
Byrne.

The latter had but raised his eyebrows a trifle at the time, but later
he smiled more than was usual with him. Something seemed to please him
immensely.

Beside him at the head of the column rode Bridge and Miguel. Behind them
trailed the six swarthy little troopers--the picked men upon whom Pesita
could depend.

They had reached a point where the trail passes through a narrow dry
arroyo which the waters of the rainy season had cut deep into the
soft, powdery soil. Upon either bank grew cac