t Jacqueline laughed outright. "Don't make
it worse, Michel," said she. "I know how you regretted the death of the
terrible Rodrigo. Then you learned that he was alive. Oh no, I couldn't
have held you.--But go on. Did he prove interesting?"

The Frenchman told his story. It appeared that, on deserting
mademoiselle two days before, he went at the best speed of his horse up
the ravine she had so graciously indicated. He hoped to overtake the
fugitive bandit, and after an hour, at a turn in the arroyo, did meet
him, face to face. Both were equally astounded. Rodrigo was retracing
his steps, having been blocked by a dried waterfall. Either man drew and
covered the other. The Mexican did not fire. Seeing Ney, he supposed the
Contras at no great distance, and a shot would bring them on his heels.
But after a time the thing commenced to grow ridiculous, and Ney
laughed.

"Monsieur Rodrigue," he said, "I hope you will come along quietly."

Fra Diavolo mistook the Gallic humor for an assurance of armed backing
near at hand. "Where to?" he asked.

"The devil take me if _I_ know! Where would you suggest?"

It dawned then on the puzzled brigand that the other knew nothing of the
country, and accordingly they struck up an armistice; which, for the
rest, the alert revolver of each made imperative. Their protocol's chief
clause required the prisoner to conduct his captor to some neutral
point. Rodrigo suggested Anastasio Murguia's ranch, and Ney agreed. But
as to what might happen on arriving, they left in blank. Michel had a
duel in mind, if honest seconds were to be had. The craftier Rodrigo
hoped to find some of his own men lurking about the hacienda.

A cessation of hostile moves was further stipulated, though treachery of
course warranted the instant drawing of weapons. Should the prisoner try
to betray the captor to guerrillas, this was to constitute treachery.
Ney for his part insisted on his rights as captor. That is, he could
call for help if he got the chance. Rodrigo assented willingly. He knew
the neighborhood. He would avoid the Cossacks, and the Frenchman might
shout to his heart's ease. To do him justice, the outlaw had no desire
to kill Ney, even if Ney gave him leave. A duke and prince in one was
too valuable. A pretty ransom loomed brightly. Ney suspected as much,
but not being ingenuous enough to obviate the risks, took a huge delight
in them.

Conforming to the terms of the truce, each man, simultaneously, p