“I don’t trust that greaser that’s guarding the south gate of the stockade,” objected Hike. “He? Why he’s one of the safest men I’ve got,” laughed Lieutenant Adeler. They were making a tour of inspection, about the high fence of close-set barb-wire that had been built around the buildings of Adeler’s ranch. They were dressed like cowpunchers, in furry chaps and sombreros. “What about his having a brother who’s with Welch?” “Oh, I know about that, of course. Why, he’s spoken to me of that brother a dozen times—sometimes with tears in his eyes.” “I wouldn’t depend much on his tears,” insisted Hike. “And last night I saw him talking to a fellow that was sneaking around outside the rancho, and that fellow looked so much like him that I’d bet anything that he was his brother.” “Oh, I can’t believe he’d be treacherous,” said Adeler. “He’s been with me for nearly ten years, now. Besides, he knows which side his bread is buttered on. If he got kicked out of here, what could he do?” “But I thought you said that most all of these greasers thought they’d be generals or presidents if the revolution succeeded, Lieutenant.” “Yes, but not Pedro. He’s too wise, I’m certain.” For once, Hike disagreed with the Lieutenant, and determined to watch Pedro. That evening, when most of the men had gone to bed, Hike crept out and squatted in a corner by the lean-to grub-shanty, wrapped in a cloak. The moonlight made the desolate adobe building look like mounds of silver, and bunches of sage-brush like a fairy city. He could see Pedro, at the south gate, yawning and stretching; for he had been asleep all day, preparing for his night-watch. Hike watched quietly, but grew drowsier and drowsier. Once, he thought he heard a noise near the machine-gun, which, with its cartridge-boxes, was mounted on a platform in the center of the ranch-yard. He even crept out of his nook, a little, keeping out of Pedro’s sight. But there was no sign of any one near the gun, and, after this false alarm, he let himself drowse off more than ever. He found himself springing bolt upright, staring at—what? He was still half asleep. Had he been having a nightmare? He patted his eyes with his finger-tips; then left his hand in the air, as though he had forgotten it there; staring at the south gate. It was quietly swinging open, and through it slipped men in uniforms. Instantly Hike yelled “Insurrectos! Insurrectos! Attack!” There was a sound of shouting and alarm in the ranch houses, as Adeler’s men woke up. But the men creeping in at the gate were alarmed, too. Instantly they rushed into the ranch-yard, fully fifty of them, and toward the machine-gun. They climbed the platform, and loaded the gun into a cart. In their midst Hike saw a man in uniform, with two revolvers. It was Willoughby Welch, once a real captain.