"By what right, gentlemen--" he demanded in a voice tremulous with rage,--"by what right do you take possession of my mine, upon which I have paid the taxes all these years, and conspire with that rogue, Cruz Mendez, to cheat me out of it? It is mine, I tell you, no matter what the _agente mineral_ may say, and--" "Your mine, nothing!" broke in Hooker scornfully, speaking in the ungrammatical border-Mexican of the cowboys. "We meet one Mexican--he shows us the mine--that is all. The expert of the mining agent says it is vacant--we take it. _Stawano!_"[1] [Footnote 1: A shortening of está bueno--it is good--a common expression in cowboy Spanish.] He waved the matter aside with masterful indifference, and Aragon burst into a torrent of excited Spanish. "Very likely, very likely," commented Bud dryly, without listening to a word; "_sí, señor, yo pienso_!" A wave of fury swept over the Spaniard's face at this gibe and he turned suddenly to De Lancey. "Señor," he said, "you seem to be a gentleman. Perhaps you will listen to me. This mine upon which you are working is mine. I have held it for years, seeking for the lost vein of the old padres. Then the rebels came sweeping through the land. They stole my horses, they drove off my cattle, they frightened my workmen from the mine. I was compelled to flee--myself and my family--to keep from being held for ransom. Now you do me the great injustice to seize my mine!" "Ah, no, señor," protested De Lancey, waving his finger politely for silence, "you are mistaken. We have inquired about this mine and it has been vacant for some time. There is no vein--no gold. Anyone who wished could take it. While we were prospecting we met this poor one-eyed man and he has taken out a permit to explore it. So we are going to dig--that is all." "But, _señor_!" burst out Aragon--and he voiced his rabid protests again, while sudden faces appeared in the windows and wide-eyed peons stood gawking in a crowd. But De Lancey was equally firm, though he glimpsed for the first time the adorable face of La Gracia as she stared at him from behind the bars. "No, _señor_," he said, "you are mistaken. The land was declared forfeit for non-payment of taxes by the minister of Fomento and thrown open for location. We have located it--that is all." For a minute Don Cipriano stood looking at him, his black eyes heavy with rage; then his anger seemed to fall away from him and he wiped the sweat from his brow. "Very well," he said at last, "I perceive that you are a gentleman and have acted in good faith--it is only that that fellow Mendez has deceived you. Let it pass, then--I will not quarrel with you, my friend--it is the fortune of war. But stop at my store when you go by and come and see me. It is indeed lonely here at times, and perhaps I can pass a pleasant hour with you. My name, _señor_, is Don Cipriano Aragon y Tres Palacios--and yours?"