“Like takin’ candy from a baby,” said Billy, when the flickering lights of Cuivaca shone to the south of them, and the road ahead lay clear to the rendezvous of the brigands.

“Yes,” agreed Bridge; “but what I’d like to know, Billy, is how you found out I was there.”

“Penelope,” said Byrne, laughing.

“Penelope!” queried Bridge.  “I’m not at all sure that I follow you, Billy.”

“Well, seein’ as you’re sittin’ on behind you can’t be leadin’ me,” returned Billy; “but cuttin’ the kid it was a skirt tipped it off to me where you was—­the beautiful senorita of El Orobo Rancho, I think Jose called her.  Now are you hep?”

Bridge gave an exclamation of astonishment.  “God bless her!” he said.  “She did that for me?”

“She sure did,” Billy assured him, “an’ I’ll bet an iron case she’s a-waitin’ for you there with buds o’ roses in her hair an’ kisses on her mouth, you old son-of-a-gun, you.”  Billy laughed happily.  He was happy anyway at having rescued Bridge, and the knowledge that his friend was in love and that the girl reciprocated his affection—­all of which Billy assumed as the only explanation of her interest in Bridge—­only added to his joy.  “She ain’t a greaser is she?” he asked presently.

“I should say not,” replied Bridge.  “She’s a perfect queen from New York City; but, Billy, she’s not for me.  What she did was prompted by a generous heart.  She couldn’t care for me, Billy.  Her father is a wealthy man—­he could have the pick of the land—­of many lands—­if she cared to marry.  You don’t think for a minute she’d want a hobo, do you?”

“You can’t most always tell,” replied Billy, a trifle sadly.  “I knew such a queen once who would have chosen a mucker, if he’d a-let her.  You’re stuck on her, ol’ man?”

“I’m afraid I am, Billy,” Bridge admitted; “but what’s the use?  Let’s forget it.  Oh, say, is this the horse I let you take the night you robbed the bank?”

“Yes,” said Billy; “same little pony, an’ a mighty well-behaved one, too.  Why?”

“It’s hers,” said Bridge.

“An’ she wants it back?”

“She didn’t say so; but I’d like to get it to her some way,” said Bridge.

“You ride it back when you go,” suggested Billy.

“But I can’t go back,” said Bridge; “it was Grayson, the foreman, who made it so hot for me I had to leave.  He tried to arrest me and send me to Villa.”

“What for?” asked Billy.

“He didn’t like me, and wanted to get rid of me.”  Bridge wouldn’t say that his relations with Billy had brought him into trouble.

“Oh, well, I’ll take it back myself then, and at the same time I’ll tell Penelope what a regular fellow you are, and punch in the foreman’s face for good luck.”

“No, you mustn’t go there.  They know you now.  It was some of El Orobo’s men you shot up day before yesterday when you took their steers from them.  They recognized the pony, and one of them had seen you in Cuivaca the night of the robbery.  They would be sure to get you, Billy.”