The messenger reached Agua Dulce an hour before midnight, and seeing a light in the house, warned the inmates of his presence by the usual “Ave Maria,” a friendly salutation invoking the blessings of the saints on all within hearing.  Supposing that some friend had a word for them, the son went outside, meeting the messenger.

“Are you the son of Don Ramon Mora?” asked the bandit.

“I am,” replied the young man; “won’t you dismount?”

“No.  I bear a letter to you from your father.  One moment, senor!  I have within call half a dozen men.  Give no alarm.  Read his instructions to you.  I shall expect an answer in half an hour.  The letter, senor.”

The son hastened into the house to read his father’s communication.  The bandit kept a strict watch over the premises to see that no demonstration was made against him.  When the half hour was nearly up, the son came forward and tendered the answer.  Passing the compliments of the moment, the man rode away as airily as though the question were of hearts instead of life.  The reply was first read by Don Ramon, then turned over to the chief.  It would require a second letter, which was to be called for in four days.  Things were now nearing the danger point.  They must be doubly vigilant; so all but the chief and two guards scattered out and watched every movement.  Two or three towns on the river were to have special care.  Friends of the family lived in these towns.  They must be watched.  The officers of the law were the most to be feared.  Every bit of conversation overheard was carefully noted, with its effects and bearing.

At the appointed time, another messenger was sent to the ranch, but only a part of the band returned to know the result.  The sum which the son reported at his command was very disappointing.  It would not satisfy the leaders, and there would be nothing for the others.  It was out of the question to consider it.  The chief cursed himself for letting his sympathy get the better of him.  Why had he not listened to the majority and been true to an accepted duty?  He called himself a woman for having acted as he had—­a man unfit to be trusted.

Don Ramon heard these self-reproaches of the chief with a heavy heart, and when opportunity occurred, he pleaded for one more chance.  He had many friends.  There had not been time enough to see them all.  His lands and cattle had not been hypothecated.  Give him one more chance.  Have mercy.

“I was a fool,” said the chief, “to listen to a condemned man’s hopes, but having gone so far I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.”  Turning to Don Ramon, he said, “Write your son that if twice the sum named in his letter is not forthcoming within a week, it will be too late.”

The chief now became very surly, often declaring that the case was hopeless; that the money could never be raised.  He taunted his captive with the fact that he had always considered himself above his neighbors, and that now he could not command means enough to purchase the silence and friendship of a score of beggars!  His former kindness changed to cruelty at every opportunity; and he took delight in hurling his venom on his helpless victim.