Juan Armigo shrugged his shoulders.

“Are you afraid of him, Juan?”

“No.  But if he were to ask me for anything, it would be well to let him have it.”

“I see.  So he sent young Ramon in here for two extra horses, and you were afraid to refuse.  I had thought you were an honest man.  After I have gone, go hunt up those horses in the canon.  And if any one from Sonora rides in here and asks about Ramon or Vaca or me, you don’t know anything about us.  Sabe?  If your horses are found before you get to them, some one stole them.  Do these things.  I don’t want to come back to see if you have done them.”

Juan Armigo nodded, gazing at Waring with crafty eyes.  So the gringo was tempted by the gold.  He would ride back to Sonora, find the stolen money in the house of Pedro Salazar, and keep it.  It would be a very simple thing to do.  Young Ramon would be afraid to speak and Jose Vaca would have disappeared.  The gringo could swear that he had not found the bandits or the gold.  So reasoned Juan, his erstwhile respect for the gunman wavering as the idea became fixed.  He grinned at Waring.  It would be a good trick; to steal the gold from the stealers.  Of a certainty the gringo was becoming almost as subtle as a Mexican.

Waring was not pleased as he read the other’s eyes, but he said nothing.  Turning abruptly, he entered the corral and saddled Ramon’s horse and his own.

“Get Jose Vaca out of here as soon as he can travel,” he told Armigo.  “You may have to explain if he is found here.”  And Waring strode to the adobe.

Ramon was awake and talking with his uncle.  Waring told him to get something to eat.  Then he turned to Vaca.

“Jose,” he began pleasantly, “you tried to get me yesterday, but you only spoiled a good Stetson.  See?  You shot high.  When you go for a man again, start in at his belt-buckle and get him low.  We’ll let that go this time.  When you can ride, take your cayuse and fan it anywhere—­but don’t ride back to Sonora.  I’ll be there.  I’m going to herd young Ramon back home.  He is isn’t your kind.  You are free.  Don’t jabber.  Just tell all that to your saints.  And if you get caught, don’t say that you saw me.  Sabe?”

The wounded man raised himself on his elbow, glaring up at Waring with feverish eyes.  “You give me my life.  I shall not speak.”

“Bueno!  And you said in the house of Pedro Salazar?”

“Si!  Near the acequia.”

“The Placeta Burro.  I know the place.  You’ll find your horse and a saddle when you are able to ride.”

The bandit’s eyes glistened as he watched Waring depart.  If the gringo entered the house of Pedro Salazar, he would not find the gold and he would not come out alive.  The gringo gunman had killed the brother of Pedro Salazar down in the desert country years ago.  And Salazar had had nothing to do with the Ortez Mine robbery.  Vaca thought that the gold was still safe in his tapaderas.  The gringo was a fool.