“Sho, I reckon Corbett——­”

“Mil diablos!”

A devil of jealousy was burning out of the black eyes that blazed into those of the American.  It was no longer possible for Dick to miss the menace and its meaning.  The Mexican was speaking of Juanita.  He believed that his prisoner had been making love to the girl and his heart was black with hate because of it.

Gordon looked at him steadily, then summed up with three derisive words. 
“You damn fool!”

Something in the way he said them shook Pablo’s conviction.  Was it possible after all that his jealousy had been useless?  Juanita had told him that all through his delirium this man had raved of Miss Valdes.  Perhaps——­ But, no, had he not with his own eyes seen the man bantering Juanita while the color came and went in her wild rose cheeks?  Had he not seen him lean on her shoulder as he hobbled out to the porch, just as a lover might on that of his sweetheart?

With an oath Pablo turned sullenly away.  He knew he was no match for this man at any point.  Yet he was a leader among his own people because of the force in him.

Gordon slept little during the night.  He had been so badly beaten that outraged nature took her revenge in a feverish restlessness that precluded any real rest.  With the coming of day the temperature subsided.  Pablo brought a basin of water and a sponge, with which he washed the bloody face and head of the bound man.

Dick observed that his nurse had a few marks of his own as souvenirs of the battle.  The cheek bone had been laid open by a blow that must have been made with his knuckles.  One eye was half shut, and beneath it was a deep purple swelling.

“Had quite a little jamboree, didn’t we?” remarked Gordon, with a grin.  “I’ll bet you lads mussed my hair up some.”

Pablo said nothing, but after he had made his unwilling guest as presentable and comfortable as possible he proceeded to business.

“You want to know why we have made you prisoner, Senor Gordon?” he suggested.  “It has perhaps occur to you that it would have been much easier to shoot you and be done?”

“Yes, that has struck me, Menendez.  I reckon your nerve didn’t quite run to murder maybe.”

“Not so.  I spare you because you save my brother’s life after he shoot at you.  But I exact conditions.  So?”

The eyes of the miner had grown hard and steelly.  The lids had closed on them so that only slits were open.  “Let’s hear them.”

“First, that you give what is called word of honor not to push any charges against those taking you prisoner.”

“Pass that for the present,” ordered Dick curtly.  “Number two please.”

“That you sign a paper drawn up by a lawyer giving all your rights in the Rio Chama Valley to Senorita Valdes and promise never to go near the valley again.”

“Nothing doing,” answered the prisoner promptly, his jaws snapping tight.