So the Mexicans gossiped and exulted, some of the bolder of them even swaggering out to the Gringo camp; but Martin drove them back again, saying he would not allow them to bully men who could not retaliate, which was right and fair.  Then, afraid to go away and leave the mad cow-punchers so close to town, he ordered them to drive their herd farther east, nearer to Dent’s store, and never to return to San Felippe unless they needed the padre; and they obeyed him after a long talk.  After seeing them settled in their new camp, which was on Monday morning, Martin returned to San Felippe and told the padre where he could be found and then rode away again.  San Felippe celebrated for a whole day and two Mexican babies were christened after Senor Dick Martin, which was honor all around.

Friday, when Manuel went over to spy upon the cow-punchers in their new camp, he found them so drunk that they could not stand, and before he crept away at dusk two of them were sleeping like gorged snakes and the third was firing off his revolver at random, which diversion had not a little to do with Manuel’s departure.

When Manuel crept away he headed straight for a crevice near the wall of the canyon at the Big Bend and, reaching it, looked all around and then dropped into it.  Not long thereafter another Mexican appeared, this one from San Felippe, and also disappeared into the crevice.  As darkness fell Manuel reappeared with something under his jacket and a moment later a light gleamed at the base of a slender sapling which grew on the edge of the canyon wall and leaned out over the abyss.  It was cleverly placed, for only at one spot on the Mexican side of the distant Rio Grande could it be seen—­the high canyon walls farther down screened it from any one who might be riding on the north bank of the river.  In a moment there came an answering twinkle and Manuel, covering the lantern with a blanket, was swallowed up in the darkness of the crevice.

Without a trace of emotion, Dick Martin, from his place of concealment, caught the answering gleam, and he watched Manuel disappear.  “Cassidy was right in every point; Lewis or Sayre couldn’t ‘a’ done this better.  I hope he won’t be late,” he muttered, and settled himself more comfortably to wait for the cue for action, smiling as the moon poked its rim over the low hills to his right.  “This means promotion for me, or I’ve very much mistaken,” he chuckled.

Hopalong was not late and as soon as it was dark he and his companions stole into the canyon on foot.  They felt their way down the east end of the trail, not far from Dent’s, toward the Big Bend, which they gained without a mishap.  Johnny was sent up to a place they had noticed and marked in their memories at the time they had rioted down to defy the ghost.  He was to stop any one trying to escape up the San Felippe end of the canyon trail, and his confidence in his ability to do this was exuberant.  Hopalong and Red slowly and laboriously worked their way down the perilous path leading to the bottom, forded the stream, and crept up the other side, where they found cover not far from a wide crack in the canyon wall.  Upon the occasion of their hilarious visit to the Big Bend they had observed that a faint trail led to the crack and had cogitated deeply upon this fact.