ng to them except that he
was afraid it might prejudice their chances.

Captain Holcomb passed in front of him and stopped.

"Mornin', Steve," he said.

"Mornin', captain." The haggard eyes of the cowpuncher asked a question
before his lips framed it. "Can't you do anything for the little girl?
Has this hellish thing got to go through?"

"The prisoner will keep silent," snapped the Mexican sergeant.

Holcomb looked at the man with eyes of chill authority. "When I speak to
the prisoner he answers. Understand?"

"Si, senor," muttered the sergeant, taken aback. "But the general
said--"

"Forget it," cut in the Texan crisply. He turned to Yeager and spoke
deliberately, looking straight at him. "Pasquale is going through with
this thing. Just as sure as the old reprobate is alive the padre will
marry your little friend to him within half an hour."

Was Captain Holcomb giving him a message? Steve did not know. It seemed
to him that there was some hidden meaning in the long look of the steady
eyes.

The soldier nodded curtly and turned away. The Texan was dressed with
unusual care. He was wearing tanned boots newly polished and the trim
khaki uniform of an officer of the United States Army. Looking at him,
Yeager thought he had never seen a finer figure of a man. He carried
himself with the light firmness of a trained soldier.

The cowpuncher was puzzled. Had Holcomb an ace up his sleeve? If so,
what could it be? He had said that the marriage would be pushed through
_just as sure as Pasquale was alive_. Had there been the slightest
emphasis on that part of the sentence? Steve was not certain. It had
struck him that the captain's soft voice had lingered on the words, but
that might have been fancy. Yet he could not escape the feeling that
something tragic was impending.

The chattering of the peons crowded in the road died away as if at a
signal. From the other end of the line rose a shout. "Viva Pasquale!
Viva Pasquale!"

Troopers pushed through and opened up a lane.

The general was for once in full uniform. Evidently he had just come
from the hands of a barber. His fierce mustache and eyebrows had been
trimmed and subdued. He smiled broadly as he bowed to the plaudits of
his men.

Then he turned and Steve caught sight of the bride. Colorless to the
lips, she trembled as she moved forward, her eyes on the ground.

It was as if some bell rang within her to tell of the presence of her
lover. Ruth raised her