“Here!”

At that moment several voices from the dance-hail called somewhat impatiently:  “Nick, Nick!”

“Oh, The Ridge boys are goin’!” he said, and seeming intuitively to know what was wanted he made for the bar.  But before acceding to their wishes, he turned to Johnson, took out his gun and offered it to him with the words:  “Say, watch this greaser for a moment, will you?”

“Certainly,” responded Johnson, quickly, declining the other’s pistol by touching his own holster significantly.  “Tell the Girl you pressed me into service,” he concluded with a smile.

“Sure.”  But on the point of going, the little barkeeper turned to him and confided:  “Say, the Girl’s taken an awful fancy to you.”

“No?” deprecated the road agent.

“Yes,” affirmed Nick.  “Drop in often—­great bar!”

Johnson smiled an assent as the other went out of the room leaving master and man together.

“Now, then, Jose, go on,” he said, when they were alone. “Bueno! Our men await the signal in the bushes close by.  I will lead the Sheriff far off—­then I will slip away.  You quietly rob the place and fly—­it is death for you to linger—­Ashby is here.”

“Ashby!” The road agent started in alarm.

“Ashby—­” reiterated Castro and stopped on seeing that Nick had returned to see that all was well.

“All right, Nick, everything’s all right,” Johnson reassured him.

The outlaw’s position remained unchanged until Nick had withdrawn.  From where he stood he now saw for the first time the preparations that were being made for his capture:  the red torchlights and white candle-lighted lanterns which were reflected through the windows; and a moment more he heard the shouts of the miners calling to one another.  Of a sudden he was aroused to a consciousness, at least, of their danger by Castro’s warning: 

“By to-morrow’s twilight you must be safe in your rancho.”

The road agent shook his head determinedly.

“No, we raid on.”

Castro was visibly excited.

“There are a hundred men on your track.”

Johnson smiled.

“Oh, one minute’s start of the devil does me, Jose.”

“Ah, but I fear the woman—­Nina Micheltorena—­I fear her terribly.  She is close at hand—­knowing all, angry with you, and jealous—­and still loving you.”

“Loving me?  Oh, no, Jose!  Nina, like you, loves the spoils, not me.  No, I raid on . . .”

A silence fell upon the two men, which was broken by Sonora calling out: 

“Bring along the greaser, Dep!”

“All right!” answered the loud voice of the Deputy.

“You hear—­we start,” whispered Castro to his master.  “Give the signal.”  And notwithstanding, the miners were coming through the door for him and stood waiting, torches in hand, he contrived to finish:  “Antonio awaits for it.  Only the woman and her servant will stay behind here.”