He started off without waiting for a reply, and all the Americans followed.  Together they circled the horses and drove them back to the corral.  When Billy had saddled and mounted he saw that the others had done likewise.

“We’re goin’ with you,” said one of the men.  “Miss Barbara b’longs to us.”

Billy nodded and moved off in the direction of the ranchhouse.  Here he dismounted and with Eddie Shorter and Mr. Harding commenced circling the house in search of some manner of clue to the direction taken by the abductors.  It was not long before they came upon the spot where the Indians’ horses had stood the night before.  From there the trail led plainly down toward the river.  In a moment ten Americans were following it, after Mr. Harding had supplied Billy Byrne with a carbine, another six-shooter, and ammunition.

Through the river and the cut in the barbed-wire fence, then up the face of the bluff and out across the low mesa beyond the trail led.  For a mile it was distinct, and then disappeared as though the riders had separated.

“Well,” said Billy, as the others drew around him for consultation, “they’d be goin’ to the hills there.  They was Pimans—­Esteban’s tribe.  They got her up there in the hills somewheres.  Let’s split up an’ search the hills for her.  Whoever comes on ’em first’ll have to do some shootin’ and the rest of us can close in an’ help.  We can go in pairs—­then if one’s killed the other can ride out an’ lead the way back to where it happened.”

The men seemed satisfied with the plan and broke up into parties of two.  Eddie Shorter paired off with Billy Byrne.

“Spread out,” said the latter to his companions.  “Eddie an’ I’ll ride straight ahead—­the rest of you can fan out a few miles on either side of us.  S’long an’ good luck,” and he started off toward the hills, Eddie Shorter at his side.

Back at the ranch the Mexican vaqueros lounged about, grumbling.  With no foreman there was nothing to do except talk about their troubles.  They had not been paid since the looting of the bank at Cuivaca, for Mr. Harding had been unable to get any silver from elsewhere until a few days since.  He now had assurances that it was on the way to him; but whether or not it would reach El Orobo was a question.

“Why should we stay here when we are not paid?” asked one of them.

“Yes, why?” chorused several others.

“There is nothing to do here,” said another.  “We will go to Cuivaca.  I, for one, am tired of working for the gringos.”

This met with the unqualified approval of all, and a few moments later the men had saddled their ponies and were galloping away in the direction of sun-baked Cuivaca.  They sang now, and were happy, for they were as little boys playing hooky from school—­not bad men; but rather irresponsible children.

Once in Cuivaca they swooped down upon the drinking-place, where, with what little money a few of them had left they proceeded to get drunk.