darted greedily in every direction.
The llano was alive with scurrying human beings. Driscoll could well
wait for the psychology of Republican defeat on Don Rodrigo, since at
the same time he awaited the effects of victory on a starving army. The
Grays fretted, but they knew their colonel was never more to be depended
upon than when his blood grew cold like this.

"If," Driscoll observed pleasantly to the Mexican, "Escobedo isn't
already making tracks for San Luis----"

It was the last straw. The patriot brigand jerked off his sombrero and
flung it to the ground. He gestured wildly over the plain, and he
gestured in the American's face. He choked on words that boiled up too
fast.

"You--you--traitor!" he spluttered. There was actually froth on his
lips.

"We haven't," Driscoll reminded him with exceeding gentleness, "settled
this other yet," and again he nodded to the coach.

"That--that is why you wait?" Rodrigo had forgotten his prize entirely.
"Take her, then, take her! Only go, go, kill all the traitors!"

"After you, caballero," Driscoll returned with Mexican politeness. He
wanted to be sure of the outlaw's departure, since holding him prisoner
was now out of the question. But Rodrigo chafed only to be gone. With a
reed whistle he signaled his little demon centaurs, then at a touch of
the spurs his horse leaped forward and all the band clattered close on
his heels.

"Sure anxious to escape," thought Driscoll. But he stared after them in
wonder. Instead of turning to the safety of the mountains, they charged
straight ahead on the town, straight against the Empire, and in any
case, straight into the maw of justice. Behind, the coach and mules
stood high and dry in the road. Driscoll was at once all action.

"Shanks," he called.

Mr. Boone hurried to him from the Grays.

"Shanks, will you stay here with six men----"

"Jack Driscoll!"

"To watch that coach, Dan. There's two girls in it."

"Jack! Miss that there fight!"

"But Dan, _these_ girls are friends of yours, you met them once."

Mr. Boone started violently.

"Never mind, I'll ask Rube Marmaduke or the Parson."

A pitiful struggle racked Mr. Boone.

"You, you're not fooling me, Din?" he pleaded.

"Sure not. It's your empress all right. It's Miss Burt all right."

"Then, Lawd help me, I'll stay!--But you'd best be hustling and get to
work."

"Just a minute, Shanks, there's the other one in the coach. She wants to
go to Queretero. If sh