He meant to tell the daughter of Gordon that he, too, was an American; that Barlow, another American, was on the job; that, somehow, they would see her through. But he was given only a fleeting glimpse of her as she passed out through a door across the room, escorted by the grave-eyed young woman who an hour ago had warned him not to anger Zoraida. He saw Betty Gordon's face distinctly now; she was fair, her hair was brown, he thought her eyes were gray. But before he could call to her she was gone, clinging to the arm of Zoraida's maid. "Poor little kid," muttered Kendric, staring after her. "I'd give my hat to have her on a horse, scooting for the _New Moon_. All alone among these pirates, with her dad the Lord knows where trying to dig up twenty-five thousand dollars for her!" At least she was no doubt well enough off for the night. She looked too tired to lie awake long, no matter what her distress. He returned to his rooms and sat down to wait again for Barlow. When at last Barlow came Kendric knew on the instant what success Zoraida had had with him. Twisty's eyes were shining; his head was up; he walked briskly like a man with his plans made and his heart in them. "You poor boob," muttered Kendric disgustedly. "Once you let a woman get her knife in your heart you're done for." Barlow swept up the brandy bottle and filled a glass brim full. "To Zoraida, Queen of Lower California!" he cried ringingly. He drank and smashed the glass upon the floor. Kendric sighed and shook his head hopelessly. And thanked God that he had never been the man to go mad over a pretty face. CHAPTER VIII HOW A MAN MAY CARRY A MESSAGE AND NOT KNOW HIMSELF TO BE A MESSENGER "There's no call for bad blood between you and me, Jim," said Barlow, plainly ill at his ease. "We've always been friends; let's stay friends. If we can't pull together in the deal that's comin', why, let's just split our trail two ways and let it go at that." "Fair enough," cried Kendric heartily. His companion thrust out a hand; Kendric took it warmly. Barlow looked relieved. "And," continued the sailor, "there's no sense forgettin' what we ran into this port for in the first place. There's the loot; no matter how or when we come at it, both together or single, we split it even?" "Fair again. The old-time Barlow talking."