“He’s my uncle,” young Jones answered.

“Uncle?” the bandit said, unbelieving.

“Uncle Henry,” old man Smith wanted it to be straight.

“He shall go free,” Lopez announced.

Hardy thought this a good omen.  They would all be set free, no doubt.  He faced Lopez bravely.  “Ah, then it’s all right,” he said, a sickly smile on his face.

“All right?” said Lopez.

“Yes,” Hardy said.

Lopez considered for a moment, hand on chin, his eyes again two narrow slits.  “Not so fast,” he cautioned.  “It ees all right for ’im,” nodding at Uncle Henry, “an’ all right for ’im,” indicating Gilbert; “but for you—­” He let one hand fly out, and a resounding slap on Hardy’s eager face was the result.  Then he turned to Pedro.  “Take them all out—­pronto!  ’Ees all right!’ Like ’ell ees all right!”

Hardy flushed scarlet.  His first impulse was to strike back; but how could he?  Those guns pointed at him from every direction.  He was as powerless as a baby.  But his hour would come.  This dastardly Mexican bandit should suffer for that blow.

Yet like one of a line of sheep he was obliged to follow Pedro out of the door.  It was a humiliating moment.  Gilbert and Lopez were left alone.

“Now we shall visit,” the bandit said, and put his arm through Gilbert’s.  “Ah! it ees so good to see you, my frand!”

Gilbert was still mystified.  “Yes,” he said, “but I don’t understand how you, a peon, became the Pancho Lopez so soon.”

“Ah! it ees so easy!” laughed the bandit.

“Easy!” Gilbert repeated.

“Si. My frand”—­his hand went to Gilbert’s shoulder—­“ees great opportunity, ees revolution, for make speed.  When I got well, I find I do not enjoy my work, which are ’ard.  Business?  Business, she make me sick!  I say for myself, ‘What to do?’ Zen, suddenly I sink, ‘I shall be soldado!’ Soldier which shall be giv ze ’orse, ze gun, ze woman, and nozzing to do but shoot a little sometimes!  Ees a wonderful life, my frand!” The smoke of his cigarette curled to the ceiling.

“I didn’t find it so,” young Jones said, and smiled in his dry way.

“Pah!  It’s too many damn rules in your army.  For us who make revolution, no!  We sleep so late we damn please.  We fight some when we feel so.  If we find ze hacienda, we take all what we choose.  When we need money, we go to city and rob ze bank—­we ’elp for ourselves food from ze store, shoes, clothes, candy, ze cigarette, agauriante—­” he made as if to drink from an imaginary glass—­“booze!  An’ if anybody ’ide anysing we cut ’is fingers off so’s ’e tell us.  She is one fine life!  You like for try?  I make you general!  Come!”

His face was radiant.  The recollection of his army life filled him with joy.

But Gilbert shook his head.  “Not for me, thank you,” he smiled.

Lopez merely shrugged his shoulders.  “So!  I was afraid!”