“We’ll have to sell a pistol in the way that we sold the musket,” said Ned.

“I hate to do it,” said Obed, “but I don’t see anything else that we can do.  We might seize our food at the first hut we find, but whatever may be the quarrels between the Mexicans and Texans, I’m not willing to rob any of these poor peons.”

“Nor I,” said Ned with emphasis.  “My pistol goes first.”

They found the usual adobe hut in a pleasant valley, and the noble senor, the proprietor, was at home playing a mandolin.  He did not suspect them to be Gringos, but he was quite sure that they were brigands and he made the exchange swiftly and gladly.  Two days later the other pistol went in the same way, and they began to think how they could acquire new weapons and plenty of ammunition for them.  They sat in the shade of a great oak while they discussed the question.  It was certainly a vital one.  Dangerous enough at any time, the long journey through Mexico would become impossible without arms.

“If we could loot them from the soldiers I wouldn’t mind at all,” said Obed.  “The soldiers are to act against Texas, according to the tale you tell, and the tale is true.  All’s fair in flight and war, and if such a chance comes our way I’m going to take it.”

“So am I,” said Ned.

But such a chance was in no hurry to present itself.  They went on for a number of days and came now to the region, bordering the high sierras, passing through vast forests of oak and pine, and seeing scarcely any habitation.  Here, as they walked toward twilight along one of the narrow paths, a voice from the bushes cried:  “Halt!”

Ned saw several gun barrels protruding from the foliage, and was obedient to the command.  He also threw up his hands and Obed White was no slower than he.  Ned judged from the nature of the ambush that they had fallen among brigands, then so prevalent in Mexico, and the thought gave him relief.  Soldiers would carry him back to Santa Anna, but surely brigands would not trouble long those who had nothing to lose.

“It is well, friends, that you obey so quickly,” said a man in gaudy costume as he stepped from the bushes followed by a half dozen others, evil looking fellows, all carrying guns and pistols.  Ned noticed that two of the guns were rifles of long and slender barrel, undoubtedly of American make.

“Good-evening, Captain,” said Obed White in his smoothest tones.  “We were expecting to meet you, as we learned that we are in the territory which you rule so well.”

The man frowned and then smiled.

“I see that you are a man of humor, amigo,” he said, “and it is well.  Your information is correct.  I rule this territory.  I am Captain Juan Carossa and these are my men.  We collect tribute from all who pass this way.”

“A worthy task and, I have no doubt, a profitable one.”

“Always worthy but not always profitable.  However, I trust that you can make it worth our while.”