d to take a hand,
also Ramon Culvera and a fat, bald-headed Mexican of fifty named
Ochampa. Culvera, playing in luck, won largely from his chief, who
accepted his run of ill fortune grouchily. Pasquale had been a peon in
his youth, an outlaw for twenty years, and a czar for three. He was as
much the subject of his own unbridled passions as is a spoiled and
tyrannous child. Yeager, studying him, was careful to lose money with a
laugh to the old despot and equally careful to see that the chips came
back to him from Ochampa's side of the table.

The cowpuncher knew fairly well the political rumors that were afloat in
regard to the situation in northern Mexico. Pasquale as yet was dictator
of the revolutionary forces, but there had been talk to the effect that
Ramon Culvera was only biding his time. Other ambitious men had aspired
to supplant Pasquale. They had died sudden, violent deaths. Ramon had
been a great favorite of the dictator, but it was claimed signs were not
lacking to show that a rupture between them was near. Watching them now,
Yeager could well believe that this might be true. Culvera was suave,
adroit, deferential as he raked in his chief's gold, but the
irritability of the older man needed only an excuse to blaze.

A blue-denim trooper came into the room and stood at attention.

Pasquale nodded curtly.

"Senor Harrison to see the general," said the private in Spanish.

A chill ran down the spine of the American. This was the last place in
the world that he wanted to meet Chad Harrison. A swift vision of
himself standing with his back to a wall before a firing line flashed
into his brain.

But he was in for it now. He knew that the ex-prizefighter would
denounce him. A daredevil spirit of recklessness flooded up in his
heart. A smile both gay and sardonic danced in his eyes. Thus does
untimely mirth in the hour of danger drive away a sober, prayerful
gravity from the mien of such light-hearted sons of nature as Stephen
Yeager.

CHAPTER X

A NIGHT VISIT

Harrison stood blinking in the doorway, having just come out from the
untempered sunlight in the street. He shook hands with the general, with
Culvera, and then his glance fell upon the American.

"Fine glad day, ain't it?" Yeager opened gayly. "Great the way friends
meet in this little old world."

"What are you doing here?" demanded the prizefighter, his chin jutting
forward and down.

"Me! I'm losing my wad at stud. Want to stake m