"There isn't going to be any trouble. I'm getting the horses for Pasquale. See?" After the others had left him, Steve lit a cigarette and sauntered to the far end of the field. Presently he gave a call that brought an answer. The horses were grazing in a loose herd that covered perhaps a third of an acre. From behind them emerged a youth on horseback. "I want four horses in a hurry," announced the range-rider. "What for?" "Never mind what for, compadre. I didn't ask old Gabriel what for when he sent me," grumbled the messenger. "Why didn't you say for Pasquale?" The young man was preparing his rope swiftly and efficiently. "Did the general say what horses?" "He named the roan with the white stockings and the white-nosed buckskin." "Then he's going to travel fast and far. Why, in the devil's name, since he is going to be married in the morning?" "Why does the general always do what isn't expected? The saints know. I don't," growled Steve. Both of them were expert ropers. In five minutes the American was swallowed in the darkness. He was astride the bare back of the buckskin and was leading the other ponies. As soon as he knew he was safely out of sight and hearing, he deflected toward the corral. His friends were waiting for him anxiously. Steve dropped lightly to the ground. "Hold the horses a minute, Frank," he said. Striding to a feed-stall filled with alfalfa, he tossed the hay aside and dragged to the light a saddle. Presently he uncovered a second, a third, and a fourth. "Brought them here last night--stole them from the storehouse," he explained casually. "You didn't overlook any bets--thought of everything, even to saddle-blankets and water-bags already full," contributed Farrar, digging up these supplies from the alfalfa. Steve cinched the saddles himself, though Farrar was a fair horseman. If it came to a pinch the turning of a saddle might spoil everything, and so far as he could the range-rider was forestalling any accidents that might be due to carelessness. "How long am I to wait for you?" asked Threewit. "We'd ought to be back inside of an hour and a half--if luck's with us. But we may be delayed by some one hanging around. Give us two hours or even two and a half--unless hell begins to pop." Steve looked at his watch in the moonlight. "Say till twelve o'clock. Of course, when you go, you'll leave the other horses here on the chance that we come later. You'd better ride that round-bellied bay." "Am I to follow the star right up the hill?" "No. Better take the draw. The sentinels will be on the hill. Likely they'll see you and shoot at you. But don't stop, even if they're close. Keep a-going. They can't hit a barn door." "Neither can I," lamented the director. "Then you'll all be safe." Yeager turned to Farrar. "Come on, Frank."