“Guess my party forgot that.  You’re welcome to it.”  Like bees the guerrillas swarmed around the lucky finder of the bottles.  There was a babel of voices.  The drink did not last long, and it served only to liberate the spirit of recklessness.  The several white outlaws began to prowl around the camp; some of the Mexicans did likewise; others waited, showing by their ill-concealed expectancy the nature of their thoughts.

It was the demeanor of Stewart and his comrades that puzzled Madeline.  Apparently they felt no anxiety or even particular interest.  Don Carlos, who had been covertly watching them, now made his scrutiny open, even aggressive.  He looked from Stewart to Nels and Monty, and then to the other cowboys.  While some of his men prowled around the others watched him, and the waiting attitude had taken on something sinister.  The guerrilla leader seemed undecided, but not in any sense puzzled.  When he turned his cunning face upon Nels and Monty he had the manner of a man in whom decision was lacking.

In her growing excitement Madeline had not clearly heard Ambrose’s low whispers and she made an effort to distract some of her attention from those below to the cowboy crouching beside her.

The quality, the note of Ambrose’s whisper had changed.  It had a slight sibilant sound.

“Don’t be mad if sudden-like I clap my hands over your eyes, Miss Hammond,” he was saying.  “Somethin’s brewin’ below.  I never seen Gene so cool.  That’s a dangerous sign in him.  And look, see how the boys are workin’ together!  Oh, it’s slow and accident-like, but I know it’s sure not accident.  That foxy Greaser knows, too.  But maybe his men don’t.  If they are wise they haven’t sense enough to care.  The Don, though—­he’s worried.  He’s not payin’ so much attention to Gene, either.  It’s Nels and Monty he’s watchin’.  And well he need do it!  There, Nick and Frank have settled down on that log with Booly.  They don’t seem to be packin’ guns.  But look how heavy their vests hang.  A gun in each side!  Those boys can pull a gun and flop over that log quicker than you can think.  Do you notice how Nels and Monty and Gene are square between them guerrillas and the trail up here?  It doesn’t seem on purpose, but it is.  Look at Nels and Monty.  How quiet they are confabbin’ together, payin’ no attention to the guerrillas.  I see Monty look at Gene, then I see Nels look at Gene.  Well, it’s up to Gene.  And they’re goin’ to back him.  I reckon, Miss Hammond, there’d be dead Greasers round that camp long ago if Nels and Monty were foot-loose.  They’re beholdin’ to Gene.  That’s plain.  And, Lord! how it tickles me to watch them!  Both packin’ two forty-fives, butts swingin’ clear.  There’s twenty-four shots in them four guns.  And there’s twenty-three guerrillas.  If Nels and Monty ever throw guns at that close range, why, before you’d know what was up there’d be a pile of Greasers.  There!  Stewart