“Gentile,” he said, as the Indian opened the gate for him, “you may come with me to where I left my horse. You have done more to-night than you imagine, and while you perhaps are a bloodthirsty wretch not worth consideration, yet I’ll repay your kindness with another. I give you this advice--start now toward the south, make good speed, and do not stop until San Diego de Alcalá is but an elusive memory far in the back of your mind. By doing that you may live long and prosper. If you do not understand, I cannot help it, and I have no time now to teach you understanding. I must ride far before dawn.” * * * * * Back at the presidio, Sergeant Cassara threw aside the thongs, and tore the paper from his belt. The written words stared up at him: To the man known as the _comandante_: At the mission there is a man known as Rojerio Rocha, whom it would profit to watch. This is but a bit of advice given freely by the man known as Captain Fly-by-Night. CHAPTER XII A TRAGEDY Señor Lopez turned from the window of the guest house and threw wide his arms in a gesture meant to indicate that there was a finality to his statement that would brook no reply. “It is madness, Rojerio Rocha!” he exclaimed. “You are a wounded man!” “Wounded? A scratch in the shoulder! My neophyte servant lost twice the blood, and he is as active as ever this morning. Would you have me show less endurance than an Indian cur?” “You do not realise the state of the times, _señor_. You heard what the _comandante_ said yesterday when he passed this way in pursuit of the odious Captain Fly-by-Night? ‘’Tis a widespread revolt,’ he said, ‘and may break out at any time. This Fly-by-Night heads it. He is here to see the culmination of his plans.’ Would that you had run him through!” “I would that I had, _señor_!” “In the shadows of our mission walls he has met his gentiles and conspired, no doubt. We do not know which of the natives here at the mission are corrupted and which are loyal. Now that his conspiracy is known and he has been driven to the hills, he may gather his horde of savages and attack at any time. So I say it would be madness, Rojerio Rocha, for you to go to the rancho this morning.” The younger man stopped pacing the room and stood before the fireplace in an attitude of determination. “Rumours of Indian uprisings are as thick as buds on a pepper-tree,” he said. “The rancho is only five miles from the mission. Señorita Anita and Señora Vallejo can ride in a carreta while we ride horses. I am anxious to see the rancho of which I have inherited the half. Things may be going to ruin there.” “Of course, there are the soldiers--” Lopez began.