said gloomily. "I don't reckon you'll find him. But
you never can tell. Offer the girl a big reward if she'll tell where
Doble is. I'll hustle to town and send out posses."

They separated. Dave rode back up the road, swung off at the place Hart
had told him of, and turned up a valley which pushed to the roots of the
hills. The tendejon was a long, flat-roofed adobe building close to the
trail.

Dave walked through the open door into the bar-room. Two or three men
were lounging at a table. Behind a counter a brown-eyed Mexican girl was
rinsing glasses in a pail of water.

The young man sauntered forward to the counter. He invited the company to
drink with him.

"I'm looking for Juan Otero," he said presently. "Mr. Crawford wanted me
to see him about riding for him."

There was a moment's silence. All of those present were Mexicans except
Dave. The girl flashed a warning look at her countrymen. That look,
Sanders guessed at once, would seal the lips of all of them. At once he
changed his tactics. What information he got would have to come directly
through the girl. He signaled her to join him outside.

Presently she did so. The girl was a dusky young beauty, plump as a
partridge, with the soft-eyed charm of her age and race.

"The senor wants to see me?" she asked.

Her glance held a flash of mockery. She had seen many dirty,
poverty-stricken mavericks of humanity, but never a more battered
specimen than this gaunt, hollow-eyed tramp, black as a coal-heaver,
whose flesh showed grimy with livid wounds through the shreds of his
clothing. But beneath his steady look the derision died. Tattered his
coat and trousers might be. At least he was a prince in adversity. The
head on the splendid shoulders was still finely poised. He gave an
impression of indomitable strength.

"I want Juan Otero," he said.

"To ride for Senor Crawford." Her white teeth flashed and she lifted her
pretty shoulders in a shrug of mock regret. "Too bad he is not here. Some
other day--"

"--will not do. I want him now."

"But I have not got him hid."

"Where is he? I don't want to harm him, but I must know. He took Joyce
Crawford into the hills last night to Dug Doble--pretended her father had
been hurt and he had been sent to lead her to him. I must save her--from
Doble, not from Otero. Help me. I will give you money--a hundred dollars,
two hundred."

She stared at him. "Did Juan do that?" she murmured.

"Yes. You know Doble. He's a