Arguilla, who was to keep out of sight, had told Ortez to pay the amount stipulated by Brent—­and at the old established rate of twenty dollars a head—­which meant that upon receipt of the cattle Ortez would give the foreman of the Olla four thousand dollars in gold.  Ortez knew that Arguilla contemplated killing Brent and his men and recovering the money.  Although his sympathies were with his own people, Ortez felt that such treachery was too black, even for a leader of guerillas.

He realized that the first word of warning to Brent would mean his own doom and the death of his men in the battle which would follow, for he knew the Gringo cowboys would fight to the last man.  Against this he weighed the probability of a fight if he did not speak.  In either event he would be dishonored in the eyes of the powers who had trusted him with handling the finances of the cause.  It was in this state of mind that he waited for the arrival of the men whom he considered doomed, never imagining for a moment that Brent himself anticipated treachery.

The sun had almost touched the western sky-line when a solitary rider spurred out from the great gate of the Olla and up to Ortez, who recognized in him one of the young vaqueros that had escaped from Arguilla’s guards the preceding night.

“Here’s our tally.”  Pete handed Ortez a slip of paper.  “Two hundred and three head.  My patron says to call it two hundred even, and to give you a receipt for the money when you turn it over to me.”

Arguilla’s lieutenant had expected to see the herd turned over to Ortez before the payment of any moneys.  He hesitated as to whether or not he should ride to the rim of the coulee and signal his company to interfere with the transaction then and there in the name of his superior officer.  The lieutenant did not believe that Ortez would turn over the money for a mere slip of paper.  But Ortez, strangely enough, seemed only too eager to close the transaction.  Stepping to his horse, he took two small canvas sacks from his saddle-pockets.  Still the lieutenant hesitated.  He had had no instructions covering such a contingency.

“I await your receipt, senor,” said Ortez as he handed the money to Pete.

Pete drew a folded slip of paper from his pocket and gave it quickly to Ortez.  “Brent’ll push the cattle through muy pronto.”  And whirling his horse round under spur, he was halfway back to the Olla gate before the lieutenant thought of signaling to Arguilla.

From the vantage of the higher ground the lieutenant could see that the gate was already open—­that the Gringos were slowly pushing the cattle through, and out to the desert.  He waved his serape.  Almost on the instant Arguilla’s men appeared in the distance, quirting their ponies as they raced toward the coulee.  The lieutenant turned and gazed at the herd, which, from bunching through the gateway, had spread out fanwise.  Already the