“Over lord?” suggested Reade, politely.

“Ah, yes!  Perhaps that better expresses what I mean.  In Mexico we have laws, senor, to be sure.  But they are not for caballeros like myself—­not for men who can boast of the blood of Spanish hidalgos.  I am master over these people for many miles around.  Absolute master!  Think you any judge would dare sign a process against me, and send peon officers of the law to interfere with me?  No!  As I tell you, I, Luis Montez, am the sole master here among the mountains.  We have laws for the peons (working class), but I—­I make my own laws.”

“Does it take much of your time, may I ask?”

“Does what take much of my time?” repeated Senor Montez, again looking puzzled.

“Law making,” explained Tom Reade.

Montez shot a swift look at the young engineer.  He wondered if the American were making fun of him.  But Reade’s face looked so simple and kindly, his eyes so full of interest, that the Mexican dismissed the thought.

“I spend no time in making laws—­unless I need them,” the Mexican continued.  “I make laws only as the need arises, and I make them to suit myself.  I interpret the laws as I please for my own pleasure or interests.  Do you comprehend?”

“I think so,” Tom nodded.  “Many of the big corporations in my country do about the same thing, though the privilege has not yet been extended to individuals in the United States.”

“Here,” continued the mine owner, earnestly, “no man disputes my will.  That, of itself, is law.  Here no man sues me, for if he attempted to do so, he would go to prison and remain there.  If I tell a man to leave these mountains, he does so, for otherwise he would never leave them.  If a man annoys me, and I tell one of my trusted servants to attend to my enemy—­then that enemy never troubles me further.”

“That is interesting—­it’s so simple and effective!” cried Tom, pretended enthusiasm glowing in his eyes.  “Say, but that’s practical!  A man annoys you, and you send a servant to tell him to stop.  Then he stops.”

“Because my enemy also vanishes, you understand,” smiled Senor Luis, indulgently.

“But doesn’t the governor of Bonista ever hear of the disappearances?” suggested Reade, very casually.

“What if he does?” demanded Don Luis, snapping his fingers gayly.  “Are not his excellency, the governor, and I, the best of friends?  Would he give heed to rumors against me, brought by evil-tongued men?  Oh, no! El gobernador (the governor) has, at times, even kindly lent me his troops to make sure that an enemy of mine doesn’t travel too far.  No!  I tell you, Senor Tomaso, I am over lord here.  I am the law in these mountains.”

“It must be a great comfort, Don Luis—­if you have many enemies,” suggested Tom Reade smilingly.