yes, and he was asked if he knew the place.

"Yes, it is Agua Dulce."

The moon shone over its white stone buildings, quietly sleeping in the
still hours of the night, as over the white, silent slabs of a country
churchyard. Not a sound could be heard from any living thing.
They dismounted and gagged their prisoner. Tying their horses at a
respectable distance, they led their victim toward his home. Don Ramon
was a small man, and could offer no resistance to his captors. They
cautioned him that the slightest resistance would mean death, while
compliance to their wishes carried a hope of life.

Cautiously and with a stealthy step, they advanced like the thieves
they were, their victim in the iron grasp of two strong guards, while
a rope with a running noose around his neck, in the hands of the
chief, made their gag doubly effective. A garden wall ran within a few
feet of the rear of the house, and behind it they crouched. The only
sound was the labored breathing of their prisoner. Hark! the cry of
a child is heard within the house. Oh, God! it is his child, his baby
girl. Listen! The ear of the mother has heard it, and her soothing
voice has reached his anxious ear. His wife--the mother of his
children--is now bending over their baby's crib. The muscles of Don
Ramon's arms turn to iron. His eyes flash defiance at the grinning
fiends who exult at his misery. The running noose tightens on his
neck, and he gasps for breath. As they lead him back to his horse, his
brain seems on fire; he questions his own sanity, even the mercy of
Heaven.

When the sun arose that morning, they were far away in one of the
impenetrable thickets in which the country abounded. Since his capture
Don Ramon had suffered, but never as now. Death would have been
preferable, not that life had no claims upon him, but that he no
longer had hopes of liberty. The uncertainty was unbearable. The
bandits exercised caution enough to keep all means of self-destruction
out of his reach. Hardened as they were, they noticed that their last
racking of the prisoner had benumbed even hope.

Sleep alone was kind to him, though he usually awoke to find his
dreams a mockery. That night the answer to the second demand would
arrive. A number of the band came in during the day and brought
the rumor that the governor of the State had been notified of their
high-handed actions. It was thought that a company of Texas Rangers
would be ordered to the Rio Grande. This me