When he had asked the question Billy had been looking straight at Rozales, and he had seen the man’s pupils contract and noticed the slight backward movement of the body which also denotes determination.  Billy knew, therefore, that Rozales was lying.  He did know who was to command the escort, and there was something sinister in that knowledge or the fellow would not have denied it.

The American began to consider plans for saving his friend from the fate which Pesita had outlined for him.  Rozales, too, was thinking rapidly.  He was no fool.  Why had the stranger desired to know who was to command the escort?  He knew none of the officers personally.  What difference then, did it make to him who rode out on the morrow with his friend?  Ah, but Miguel knew that it would make a difference.  Miguel had spoken to the new captain, and aroused his suspicions.

Rozales excused himself and rose.  A moment later he was in conversation with Pesita, unburdening himself of his suspicions, and outlining a plan.

“Do not send me in charge of the escort,” he advised.  “Send Captain Byrne himself.”

Pesita pooh-poohed the idea.

“But wait,” urged Rozales.  “Let the stranger ride in command, with a half-dozen picked men who will see that nothing goes wrong.  An hour before dawn I will send two men—­they will be our best shots—­on ahead.  They will stop at a place we both know, and about noon the Captain Byrne and his escort will ride back to camp and tell us that they were attacked by a troop of Villa’s men, and that both our guests were killed.  It will be sad; but it will not be our fault.  We will swear vengeance upon Villa, and the Captain Byrne will hate him as a good Pesitista should.”

“You have the cunning of the Coyote, my captain,” cried Pesita.  “It shall be done as you suggest.  Go now, and I will send for Captain Byrne, and give him his orders for the morning.”

As Rozales strolled away a figure rose from the shadows at the side of Pesita’s tent and slunk off into the darkness.

CHAPTER VIII

BILLY’S FIRST COMMAND

And so it was that having breakfasted in the morning Bridge and Miguel started downward toward the valley protected by an escort under Captain Billy Byrne.  An old service jacket and a wide-brimmed hat, both donated by brother officers, constituted Captain Byrne’s uniform.  His mount was the largest that the picket line of Pesita’s forces could produce.  Billy loomed large amongst his men.

For an hour they rode along the trail, Billy and Bridge conversing upon various subjects, none of which touched upon the one uppermost in the mind of each.  Miguel rode, silent and preoccupied.  The evening before he had whispered something to Bridge as he had crawled out of the darkness to lie close to the American, and during a brief moment that morning Bridge had found an opportunity to relay the Mexican’s message to Billy Byrne.