“It’s time we cleaned out Pedro’s place, seh!” he told Jack; “and you and Jim Galway have got to help me do it!”

“I don’t like to get into a row,” said Jack very soberly.

“Then I’ll undertake the job alone,” Bob retorted.  “That will be a good deal worse, for when I get going I lose my temper and I tell you, seh, I’ve got a lot to lose!  And, Jack, are you going to stand by and see robbery done by the meanest, most worthless greaser in the valley—­and a good Indian the victim?”

“Yes, Jack,” said Jim, “you’ve got such a formidable reputation since your set-to with Leddy that the Indians think you are a regular master of magic.  You’re just the one to make Pedro come to terms.”

“A formidable reputation without firing a shot!” admitted Jack quizzically, and consented.

“You’ll surely want your gun this time!” Bob warned him.

“No,” said Jack.

“But—­”

“I have hung up my gun!” Jack said decisively.  “We’ll try to handle this peacefully.  Come on!”

“Well, we’ve got our guns, anyway!” Jim put in.

It was mid-afternoon, a slack hour for Pedro’s kind of trade, and the shanty was empty of customers when the impromptu vigilance committee entered.  Pedro himself was half dozing in the faro dealer’s chair.  His small, ferret eyes flashed a spark at the visitors as he rose, but he was politeness itself.

“Senores!  It is great honor!  Be seated, senores!” he said with eloquent deference.

The very sight of him set all the ounces in Bob quivering in an outburst: 

“No chairs for us!  You fork over Gonzalez’s money that you tricked out of him!”

“I take Gonzalez’s money!  I?  Senores?”

“It’s a hundred and twenty dollars that he earned honestly, and the quicker you lay your hands on it the better for you!” Bob roared back.

Pedro was quite impassive.

“Senores, if Gonzalez need money—­senores, I honest man!  Senores, sit down!  We talk!” Pedro dropped back into his chair and his hand, with cat-like quickness, shot under the faro table.

Jack had come through the door after Jim and Bob.  He was standing a little behind them, and while they had been watching Pedro’s face he had watched Pedro’s movements.

“Pedro, take your hand out from under the table and without your gun!” said Jack; and Jim Galway caught a thrill in Jack’s voice that he had heard in the arroyo.

Pedro looked into Senor Don’t Care’s eyes and saw a bead, though they were not looking along the glint of a revolver barrel.

“Si, senor!” said Pedro, settling back in the chair with palms out in intimation of his pacific intentions.

“Now, Pedro, you have Gonzalez’s money, haven’t you?” Jack went on, in the reasoning fashion that he had adopted to Leddy in the store.  “And you aren’t going to make yourself or Bob trouble.  You are going to give it back!”