“You are Jose?” she asked.

“Si, senorita,” replied the old Indian.  “What can poor old Jose do to serve the beautiful senorita?”

“You can carry a message to one of Pesita’s officers,” replied the girl.  “I have heard much about you since I came to Mexico.  I know that there is not another man in this part of Chihuahua who may so easily reach Pesita as you.”  She raised her hand for silence as the Indian would have protested.  Then she reached into the pocket of her riding breeches and withdrew a handful of silver which she permitted to trickle, tinklingly, from one palm to the other.  “I wish you to go to the camp of Pesita,” she continued, “and carry word to the man who robbed the bank at Cuivaca—­he is an American—­that his friend, Senor Bridge has been captured by Villa and is being held for execution in Cuivaca.  You must go at once—­ you must get word to Senor Bridge’s friend so that help may reach Senor Bridge before dawn.  Do you understand?”

The Indian nodded assent.

“Here,” said the girl, “is a payment on account.  When I know that you delivered the message in time you shall have as much more.  Will you do it?”

“I will try,” said the Indian, and stretched forth a clawlike hand for the money.

“Good!” exclaimed Barbara.  “Now start at once,” and she dropped the silver coins into the old man’s palm.

It was dusk when Captain Billy Byrne was summoned to the tent of Pesita.  There he found a weazened, old Indian squatting at the side of the outlaw.

“Jose,” said Pesita, “has word for you.”

Billy Byrne turned questioningly toward the Indian.

“I have been sent, Senor Capitan,” explained Jose, “by the beautiful senorita of El Orobo Rancho to tell you that your friend, Senor Bridge, has been captured by General Villa, and is being held at Cuivaca, where he will doubtless be shot—­if help does not reach him before tomorrow morning.”

Pesita was looking questioningly at Byrne.  Since the gringo had returned from Cuivaca with the loot of the bank and turned the last penny of it over to him the outlaw had looked upon his new captain as something just short of superhuman.  To have robbed the bank thus easily while Villa’s soldiers paced back and forth before the doorway seemed little short of an indication of miraculous powers, while to have turned the loot over intact to his chief, not asking for so much as a peso of it, was absolutely incredible.

Pesita could not understand this man; but he admired him greatly and feared him, too.  Such a man was worth a hundred of the ordinary run of humanity that enlisted beneath Pesita’s banners.  Byrne had but to ask a favor to have it granted, and now, when he called upon Pesita to furnish him with a suitable force for the rescue of Bridge the brigand enthusiastically acceded to his demands.

“I will come,” he exclaimed, “and all my men shall ride with me.  We will take Cuivaca by storm.  We may even capture Villa himself.”