Ruth half guessed his purpose. She began to sob, but let herself be
hurried away by Farrar.

"He's going to stay there. He's not coming at all," she wailed as she
ran.

"Sho! Of course he's coming. You know Steve, don't you? He's always got
something good up his sleeve."

But though her friend reassured her, he could not still his own fears.
Something in him cried out against the desertion of a wounded ally, one
who had risked his life to save them all. Still, there was the girl to
be considered. If Yeager wanted to give his life for hers he had the
right. Many a good man of the Southwest would have done what Steve was
doing, given the same circumstances. It was up to him, Farrar, to back
his friend's play and see it through.

Yeager crawled on his hands and knees into a mesquite thicket from which
he could command a view of the open space back of Pasquale's house. He
broke carefully half a dozen twigs that interfered with the free play of
his rifle. Then he placed his revolver beside him ready for action.
After which he waited, tense and watchful.

Mexicans were swarming about the back of the house. One climbed the rope
ladder, looked in the window, and explained with much gesturing to those
below that the room was empty. Random shots were thrown toward the river
and into the grove. But nobody headed the pursuit. They were waiting for
a leader.

Then Pasquale burst furiously into sight around the house. Culvera,
Ochampa, and Holcomb followed him. The general flung himself into an
excited group, tossing to right and left those who were in his way. He
snapped out questions, gave orders, and stamped over the ground like a
madman.

Called by Culvera, he strode forward to one of the drugged guards. In an
impotent fury he shook the man, trying to waken him from his sleep;
then, raging at his failure, he flung the helpless body against the wall
and turned on his heel.

Order began to evolve out of the mob. Pasquale himself organized the
pursuit. He spread the line out so that as it advanced it would sweep
the whole space to the river. There was no longer any wild firing. Men
brought from the stables eight or ten horses for the officers.

As the line moved forward, Yeager thought it time to let the enemy know
where he was. He drew a bead on the general, moved his rifle slightly to
the left, and fired. Pasquale drew his sword and waved it.

"Take the girl alive. Shoot down the traitor dogs with her," he cried
savag