upon his brow. Barbara stolen! Mr Harding practically alone upon the
ranch! And Pesita in possession of this information!

Bridge rose to his feet. He buckled his cartridge belt about his waist
and picked up his carbine, then he crawled under the rear wall of his
tent and walked slowly off in the direction of the picket line where the
horses were tethered.

"Ah, Senor Bridge," said a pleasant voice in his ear; "where to?"

Bridge turned quickly to look into the smiling, evil face of Rozales.

"Oh," he replied, "I'm going out to see if I can't find some shooting.
It's awfully dull sitting around here doing nothing."

"Si, senor," agreed Rozales; "I, too, find it so. Let us go together--I
know where the shooting is best."

"I don't doubt it," thought Bridge; "probably in the back;" but aloud
he said: "Certainly, that will be fine," for he guessed that Rozales had
been set to watch his movements and prevent his escape, and, perchance,
to be the sole witness of some unhappy event which should carry Senor
Bridge to the arms of his fathers.

Rozales called a soldier to saddle and bridle their horses and shortly
after the two were riding abreast down the trail out of the hills. Where
it was necessary that they ride in single file Bridge was careful to
see that Rozales rode ahead, and the Mexican graciously permitted the
American to fall behind.

If he was inspired by any other motive than simple espionage he was
evidently content to bide his time until chance gave him the opening he
desired, and it was equally evident that he felt as safe in front of the
American as behind him.

At a point where a ravine down which they had ridden debauched upon a
mesa Rozales suggested that they ride to the north, which was not at all
the direction in which Bridge intended going. The American demurred.

"But there is no shooting down in the valley," urged Rozales.

"I think there will be," was Bridge's enigmatical reply, and then, with
a sudden exclamation of surprise he pointed over Rozales' shoulder.
"What's that?" he cried in a voice tense with excitement.

The Mexican turned his head quickly in the direction Bridge's index
finger indicated.

"I see nothing," said Rozales, after a moment.

"You do now, though," replied Bridge, and as the Mexican's eyes returned
in the direction of his companion he was forced to admit that he did see
something--the dismal, hollow eye of a six-shooter looking him straight
in the face.

"Sen