"Don't try to hold him too tight. He's probably got a tender mouth, judging from the way he fidgets." "Well, I suppose he has, but if I don't hold him, he's going to land me over somewhere in those foothills," said Clara, faintly. "He's got the most awful little rack I ever rode. Henry, do you suppose that fellow is Angel Gonzales?" "Can't say. He's an ugly-looking ruffian whoever he is." "Hush, here he comes! He may understand English," shivered Clara. Angel grinned as he came back to them. "The senorita does not ride very well," he said, mockingly. Clara did not reply. "I suppose," she reflected, with a gleam of humor, "that I ought to be grateful to be taken for a 'senorita,' but how can I be grateful for anything when I'm being rattled to pieces?" Angel joined himself to them and they rode three abreast. He began to ask questions; questions which plainly were designed to inform him as to the financial standing of his guests or his prisoners whichever he chose to make them. "He's as persistent as a society reporter," growled Hard, under his breath, as Angel relinquished his place to one of his men and fell back to ride with Cortes. "It's a case of ransom, all right." "Shall we make a break for it?" whispered Clara. "If I let this thing go he'll be over in the foothills before you can whistle." "No, they'd shoot. Better not risk it." "But, Henry, I can't stand it! And I look so! I never was so altogether wretched in all my life," groaned Clara. "Be patient, that's a good girl, until we see what they're going to do." "If that devil's face is any index to his character, he's going to do something awful." Angel Gonzales, in fact, was justifying Clara's opinion of him. "The woman has money and property, and so, I think, has he," he said to Cortes. "If they have money, they have friends, and friends will pay, eh?" "Sometimes," admitted Cortes. "But we are in a hurry, _amigo_. If Pachuca has come this far, he means business. We had better be on our way to meet him." "Yes, that's so. Our horses are not strong enough to carry double, either. We'll leave the Americanos with Manuel Soria and pay him to keep them for a few days until we know what we want to do with them, eh?" "Not bad," agreed Cortes. "Manuel is a good deal of a fool but his woman is smart. Give her a gun and she will know how to use it. She will do it for me because I make love to her now and then," he added, with something which in a civilized being would pass for a simper. "Humph, she'd do it for me because I'll pay her some good money and promise her more," said the unsympathetic Gonzales. By this time they had reached the Soria cabin, much to Clara's relief, and the party dismounted. The cabin door was closed, and Angel, who evidently wasted no time on the little courtesies of life, raised his pistol and fired into it. Clara caught her breath in horror. "Those babies!" she gasped, clutching Hard.