ect a military
campaign. And thinking thus of her, he thought also of Zoraida. Betty
Gordon, just as she was, was infinitely more to his liking.

"I can only give you my word of honor, my dear," he said gently, and
again he felt as though he were addressing a poor little kid of a girl
in short dresses, "that I wouldn't harm a hair of your head for all
Mexico."

Betty, though this was her first rude experience with outlaws, was not
without both discernment and intuition. Perhaps the maid Rosita had
lied to her, carried away by a natural relish in telling all that she
knew and more. A look of brightening hope surged up in Betty's gray
eyes; her pretty lips were parting when a rude interruption made her
forget to say the words which were just forming.

Fitfully voices had come to them from the _patio_ where Ruiz Rios and
the rebel captain were arguing, but Jim and Betty with their own
problem occupying their minds had paid scant attention. Now a sudden
exclamation arrested both words and thought, a sharp cry of bitter
anger and more than anger; there was rage and menace in the intonation.
And then came the shot, a revolver no doubt but sounding louder as it
echoed through the rooms. Betty started up in terror, both hands
grasping Kendric's arm. His own hand had gone its swift way to the gun
slung under his coat.

They waited a moment, both tense. Then Jim patted her hand
reassuringly, removed it from his sleeve and said quietly:

"Wait a second. I'll see which one it was."

But before he could cross the room the door was thrown open and Ruiz
Rios stood looking in on them queerly.

"Senor Escobar has shot himself," he said. "Through the heart."

Betty fell back from him, step by step, her eyes staring, her face
white. Then she looked pleadingly to Kendric. When he went to her
side, she whispered:

"Take me away! Let's try to go now. Now!"

Ruiz Rios's eyes glittered, his mouth hardened. He closed the door
behind him, watching them keenly.

"It is in my mind to do you a kindness, Senor Kendric," he said,
speaking evenly and emotionlessly.

"You are a murderous cur," rapped out Kendric. "I'd do a clean job if
I shot you dead in your tracks."

Rios smiled.

"Let us speak business, _amigo_," he said. "Moralizing is nice when
there is plenty of time and nothing else to be done. You are kept here
against your will. It might not fit in ill with my plans to see you
go."

"I will have a look a