e; she naturally wanted to correct her first bad taste."

"By running away with you? If you call that good taste----"

"I call that a good joke on the padrecito."

Having by this time come safely to the front of the church, Rodrigo was
for making certain his escape at once. But Tiburcio interposed. "There's
some talk still due between you and me," he said. "Sit down, here in the
doorway."

"Well?" said the brigand uneasily.

"Well?" repeated his jocular friend.

"Well, there isn't even a moon and we can't deal monte, as if that
weren't the same as giving you what you want, anyway."

"I risk my hide saving you for money, then?" Don Tiburcio's tone was
aggrieved.

"Oh no, for friendship," the sardonic Rodrigo corrected himself, "and I
think as much of you in my turn, amigo mio. Not half an hour ago I was
wrapped in anxiety, imagining you trying to collect blackmail, and I not
near to keep my patriots from your throat. Oh, the sorrow of it!"

"God be praised that a dear friend came and eased your worries! But you
are not an ingrate. Since the Confederate Gringo took all my money the
other morning----"

"Tiburcio, on oath, I haven't had money either, not since our last game
at cards. There was Murguia, I know, but I let him off for bringing me
that French girl. She was good for a big ransom, only your same
Gringo--curse the intruder! If ever the Imperialists catch him, and
Murguia is there to testify against him----"

Tiburcio moved nearer on the church step. "And then?"

"That's our secret, Murguia's and mine."

"But Rodrigo, he _is_ caught. They are trying him and Murguia both
this very minute. And do you know what for? For being your accomplices."

The outlaw started exultantly. "Then, if you want him shot----"

"Well?--Oh don't be afraid, maybe I can help."

"Were you with Captain Maurel when we ambushed them near Tampico?"

"I can't remember," said Tiburcio tentatively.

"If you will hurry down to this court martial, perhaps you will remember
better. Go, and I'll leave you."

"Not quite so fast, Rodrigo. You forget that your devoted rescuer is
penniless."

"So am I, I tell you. We'll both have to go to work, Don Tiburcio."

"What's the lay? Tell me." The humorist's tone was unmistakable.

Rodrigo looked about him in the dark. "Listen," he whispered, "there's a
bullion convoy out of San Luis before long, but--you shall hear no more
unless it is agreed that I am to meet them first."

"Of cours