Gonzalez threw back his head, crossed his arms, and looked his antagonist angrily in the eye. "I am not a liar, Don Curtis," he said proudly. "I may kill sometimes, if my _patron_ wishes. But I do not lie." He placed the muzzle of one of the pistols against his heart. "I have told you the truth, Señor Conrad," he went on. "I swear to you, by the Mother of God, that I could not say different if you pulled that trigger now." Conrad trembled and his white face went suddenly crimson. "It is hard to believe," he said; but he lowered the pistols. "I know you are not a liar, José, and you seem to be speaking the truth. You understand, don't you," he added in a tone almost apologetic, "that it is hard for me to believe what you say?" "It is the truth, señor." Curtis put his own pistol away, and looked thoughtfully at the other. "José," he said, "I shall have to think about this thing. In the meantime I'm going to keep your gun." "As you like, Don Curtis," replied Gonzalez, indifferently. "I shall do nothing more. To-morrow I shall ask for my time." Conrad eyed him keenly. "Well, then, here's your gun. Go on to Adobe Springs and do the work, as I told you. To-morrow morning, if you want it, you can have your time." José took the gun, turned the cylinder, and one by one dropped the bullets to the ground. "It is ended, Don Curtis," he said. Mounting his horse, he galloped down the road. CHAPTER XXII REFLECTION AND REACTION Conrad stood still and stared at the Mexican's lessening figure, galloping down the road. Presently he walked across to his mare, stroked her nose, and said softly, "By God! Betty B.!" For some minutes he gazed at her abstractedly, swearing under his breath, and now and then muttering, "Aleck! Aleck Bancroft!" Coherent thought was not yet possible. He felt that José had told him the truth, and yet he could not believe it; between the opposing convictions his mind lay dazed and inactive. He mounted and turned Brown Betty's nose toward home, riding at a foot-pace with his head down and his attention all indrawn. For a mile or two the mare plodded on quietly. At last, resenting the lack of the companionable attentions her master was accustomed to bestow upon her when they rode alone, she snorted several times and switched her tail vigorously, flicking his legs. There was no response. She whinnied softly, waited a little, and tried it again. Still her rider was silent. So she stopped, lifted her head, and neighed loudly. Conrad aroused himself. "What is it, Betty?" he said, looking searchingly around the plain. Nothing was in sight save its usual silent habitants. He dismounted, and examined her anxiously. She nipped him playfully, nickered gently, and poked her nose into his coat pocket.