“But if you’ve been raiding around here,” Uncle Henry said from his seclusion, “won’t the rangers be after you?”

“I have ze scouts who watch,” the bandit said.  He turned to Gilbert again.  “Suppose I stop here and prove to you who sink you have trouble, zat really you have no trouble at all?”

The young man looked at him incredulously.  “You mean you can get me out of this mess?” he asked.

“Sure!  In one half hour,” the bandit was convinced.

“Really?”

“In one half hour your trouble go poof!” He made a ring of smoke and watched it fade away.  “And you shall be ’appy man.  If I do zat, what zen?”

“If you do that,” said the other, “they’ll have to tie me down to keep me from kissing you!”

“Good!” laughed Lopez.  “She is did.”

There was a moment’s pause.  Then, “But how are you going to do this miracle?” Gilbert was anxious to find out.

“Zat is for you to leave to me.  Well, what you say?”

“I say yes, of course!”

“Bueno! We begin,” said the bandit.  He called through the door:  “Pedro!  Bring zem all in again.”

Uncle Henry was curious, “What are you going to do?”

“You shall see,” was all Lopez answered.

Angela was the first to file into the room.  Uncle Henry glanced at her.  “What are you going to do about her?” he asked.

Lopez looked around, “Her?” he said.

“Her!” repeated Uncle Henry.

“What ’as her to do wiz it?” the bandit inquired.

“Why, she wants to marry him,” Uncle Henry revealed, pointing to his nephew.  “That’s what started the whole jamboree.”

Lopez looked astonished.  “So?” he said.

“Uh—­huh!”

The bandit glanced at Gilbert.  “But ’e does not love ’er,” he said, nodding toward Angela.

“Certainly not!” Gilbert was instantly saying, and glared at his uncle.  The latter, as usual, plunged straight ahead, as the others now gathered about the room.  “He,” meaning “Red,” “loves her. He,” he nodded toward his nephew, “loves her,” pointing to Lucia Pell.  “And she loves him,” nodding back to Gilbert.

“Shut up!  How many times must I tell you to—­”

“But she,” went on Uncle Henry, just as if nothing had been said, and pointing to Lucia, “is married to him,” indicating Pell.  “Which makes it a hell of a mess all around!” He leaned back in his chair as if he had done a good day’s work.

Gilbert could scarcely restrain himself.  Again he wanted to lay violent hands upon him—­he wished he could.  “Be quiet, won’t you?” he breathed.

“Not me!” Uncle Henry persisted.  “I’ve gotter tell the truth.”

“Yes, but—­” Gilbert began.

“I don’t wanter get shot,” the old man declared.

Lopez turned to Gilbert.  “Is it true?  You love her?” his eyes going to Lucia.

How could he tell the truth?  “Of course I do not,” he affirmed.  Then he went close to his uncle.  “What did you do all this again for?”