to leave the planting of fields and offer their young lives to
the army of the Deliverer. Isidro was busy with the duties of the
ranch stock, and there was only Tula to see bags of nuggets
distributed where they would be least noticed among the linen, Indian
rugs, baskets and such family possessions easiest carried to their
owner.

He marked the packs to be opened, and Tula, watching, did not need to
be told.

The emotions of the night and the uncertainty of what lay ahead left
Rhodes and Dona Jocasta rather silent as they took the trail to the
gruesome old hacienda called by Dona Jocasta so fearful and accursed.
Many miles went by with only an occasional word of warning between
them where the way was bad, or a word of command for the animals
following.

"In the night I rode without fear where I dare not look in the
sunlight," said Jocasta drawing back from a narrow ledge where stones
slipped under the hoofs of the horses to fall a hundred feet below in
a dry canon.

"Yes, senora, the night was kind to all of us," returned Kit politely.
"Even the accidents worked for good except for the pain to you."

"That is but little, and my shoulder of no use to anyone. General
Rotil is very different,--a wound to a soldier means loss of time. It
is well that shot found him among friends for it is said that when a
wolf has wounds the pack unites to tear him to pieces, and there are
many,--many pesos offered to the traitor who will trap Rotil by any
lucky accident."

"Yet he took no special care at Mesa Blanca."

"Who knows? He brought with him only men of the district as guard. Be
sure they knew every hidden trail, and every family. Ramon Rotil is a
coyote for the knowing of traps."

She spoke as all Altar spoke, with a certain pride in the ability of
the man she had known as a burro driver of the sierras. For three
years he had been an outlaw with a price on his head, and as a rebel
general the price had doubled many times.

"With so many poor, how comes it that no informer has been found? The
reward would be riches untold to a poor _paisano_."

"It might be to his widow," said Dona Jocasta, "but no sons of his,
and no brothers would be left alive."

"True. I reckon the friends of Rotil would see to that! Faithful
hearts are the ones he picks for comrades. I heard an old-timer say
the Deliverer has that gift."

She looked at him quickly, and away again, and went silent. He
wondered if it was true that there had be