“If there is evil done, the debt will be paid.”

Cateras laughed, one hand at his incipient moustache.

“Billy Lacy, you mean, no doubt.  That is a matter for him to settle with Mendez.  It is not my affair, for I only obey my chief.  However, senors, ’tis no evil that is contemplated, only we prefer guarding the secrets of this valley ourselves.  That is what angers Mendez, the fact that Lacy uses this rendezvous as a prison during our absence.  We found one here when we returned—­guarded by an American.  Now you come with another. Caramba!  You think we stand this quietly?  How do we know what may result from such acts?  What sheriff’s posse may be on your trail?  Bill Lacy! Dios! if Bill Lacy would make prisoners, let him keep them somewhere else than here.  Mendez takes no prisoners—­he knows a better way than doing things like that.”

“But, senor, this is a woman.”

“Of which I am well aware,” bowing gallantly.  “Otherwise I should not have interfered, and offered my services.  But we have talked enough.  You have had the word, and you know the law of our compact.  Do you obey me, or shall I call the chief—­God be merciful to your soul, if I do.”

Moore stood silent, realising the full meaning of the threat; he glanced aside at Sikes, but that individual only shook his head.

“All right then,” went on the Mexican sharply. “’Tis well you show sense.  You know what to do with your team; then the both of you report to Casas at the upper camp—­you know him?”

“Yes, senor.”

“Tell him I sent you.  He will have his orders; they are that you be shot if you attempt to leave before Mendez gives the word.  ’Tis not long now till we learn who is chief here—­Bill Lacy or Pascual Mendez.  Come, senorita, you are safe with me.”

Concealing a dread that was almost overpowering, yet realising the impossibility of resistance, Stella permitted him to touch her hand, and assist her to clamber over the wheel.  The baffled, helpless rage in Moore’s face was sufficient proof of the true power possessed by Cateras, that his was no idle boast.  Under some conditions the change in captors might have been welcomed—­certainly she felt no desire to remain in the hands of the two who had brought her there, for Sikes, plainly enough, was a mere drunken brute, and Moore, while of somewhat finer fibre, lacked the courage and manhood to ever develop into a true friend.

Yet she would have infinitely preferred such as these—­men, at least, of her own race—­to this smirking Mexican, hiding his devilish instincts behind a pretence at gallantry.  She knew him, now, understood him, felt convinced, indeed, that this was all some cunning scheme originating within his own brain.  He had hastened ahead to Mendez; told a tale in his own way, rendering the chief’s suspicions of Lacy more acute, and thus gaining permission to assume full charge.  Her only hope was to go herself into the presence of the leader, and make a plea to him face to face.  Moore was already at the horses’ heads, and was turning them about in the trail.  Cateras, smiling, pressed her arm with his fingers.