"But, my friend--my friend!" the Indian mocked. "Men unnumbered are at my command. Still, you have only words, words, words." "At the proper time and place----" "The proper time and place is now and here. One hundred thousand pesos' value in your English gold notes--you claim you have the money in Monterey--place you in my hand the day the next new moon is born. Then, when you wish, my subjects in the inland--I am their king--declare Great Britain's flag to be their own, and I will hold them your loyal subjects." Brown threw some wood on the embers. "That Injun is yelpin' back talk at the Cap'n any fool can see. I never could stand much sass from sech people myself," in an aside to Carmelita. "Come, friend, we may not deliberate here for others to overhear. Come with me. I have your point of view----" "Yes, or no, señor. You have my point of view, you say. Then, accept or refuse. You are not the only bidder." "A glass of aguardiente in the inner chamber----" "Ah! you refuse! In coming here my time was wasted. I go elsewhere." Casting blanket away he strode toward the darkness and the downpouring rain. As he neared the fire the light showed his face clearly. It was curiously wrinkled, not unlike a savage dog ready to bite. His companion followed him. The leader was the dreaded Yoscolo, the craftiest Indian in the Californias, and the best educated. The other was Stanislaus, once of the Mission of San José, a man as cruel as Yoscolo, if less clever. The doña cuddled nearer the bed as they passed, "Hold!" cried the Captain as the Indians reached the cave entrance. "I'll accept your proposition." They turned. "Come back and we will arrange preliminaries within." "Done!" said the leader. Stanislaus grunted affirmation. A shout sounded in the open, followed by the words: "Here is the carreta, Señor Mendoza, and footprints leading on. Have the men bring lights." Mendoza's voice gave some order. "Juan Antonio, you did well," he continued. The Indians, Yoscolo and Stanislaus, vanished like wraiths. "More Injuns, Cap'?" inquired Brown. "Possibly. Let us go." "And leave the ladies to be skeered to death? No, sirree! I stay." "Please stay," requested Carmelita in English. "My father is here and will thank you." "The women are safe, Brown. Out the other entrance of the cave. Come, I tell you." "Just as you say, Cap'--not that I'm skeered of her pop. You lead and I'll foller." Just as the darkness hid them Juan Antonio came into the cave. He was covered with mud. Mendoza followed on horseback. Mounted peons filled the cave entrance. "Papacito! Papacito!" Carmelita ran toward her father. "My child, come thou to me!" springing to the ground and clasping her in his arms. "I'll not have such a commotion in my house," announced the dueña, returning from sleep. "It is not the hour for the fandango." Light flared from the replenished fire.