or even---- Now what," he exclaimed, "what ails the old
bare-bones now?"

The senile mirth had left the trader's face, and his olive skin was
ashen. "Next time," he moaned, "next time, Santa Maria, they will be in
force and they--they will take the very horse from under me!"

"Tough luck," Driscoll observed.

Murguia darted at him a look in which there was all the old hate, and
more added. But it disturbed the trooper as little as ever. "Come," he
said, "own up. You knew we were going to meet those fellows?" Murguia
said nothing. "Of course you knew. But why didn't you change your route,
seeing you're too high-minded to fight?--What's that?--Oh that voice!
Dive for it, man!"

"I, I couldn't change on account of my passport."

"What's that got to do with it?"

"In the passport I declare the route I take."

"I see, and you can't change it afterward?"

"No."

"Now look here, Murgie, have you got any more of these dates on?--Yes?
No?--Murgie, if you don't dive, by----"

Murguia dove, and denied with eagerness that he had any further
toll-paying appointments. But Driscoll reckoned that he was lying.
"And," he added, "we are going to change our route, passport or no
passport. We'll take--let's see--yes, we'll take the very next
crosstrail going in the same general direction."

Murguia's alarm at the proposal belied his former denial. The law
required him to follow the course laid down in his passport, but he
feared the law less than the disappointment of road agents. Don
Tiburcio's receipt protected him from those controlled by Don Tiburcio.
But Tiburcio was not powerful, except in blackmail. Murguia paid him
lest he inform the government of tribute also paid to Don Rodrigo. Now
Rodrigo Galan was powerful. His band infested the Huasteca. He called
himself a Liberal and a patriot, and he really believed it too. But he
also declared that the tolls he collected went to the revolutionary
cause, which declaration, however, even he could hardly have believed.

Don Rodrigo gave receipts, and his receipts were alleged guarantee
against other molestation, since he controlled the highway more
thoroughly than ranger patrols had ever done. But lately a competitor
had appeared in the brush, and he was that humorous scoundrel, Don
Tiburcio of the crossed eye. Goaded near to apoplexy by the double
tolls, Murguia had once ventured to upbraid Don Rodrigo with breach of
contract. There was no longer immunity in the roadmaster's