"Gee! what a bunch of men!" exclaimed Bud, as he stood off and admired their stark forms. "There's some genuine fighters for you," he observed to Phil; and a giant Yaqui, standing near, returned his praise with a smile. "W'y, hello there, Amigo!" hailed Bud, jerking his head in a friendly salute. "That's a feller I was making signs to up in Agua Negra," he explained. "Dogged if I ain't stuck on these Yaquis--they're all men, believe me!" "Good workers, all right," conceded De Lancey, "but I'd hate to have 'em get after me with those guns. They say they've killed a lot of Americans, one time and another." "Well, if they did it was for being caught in bad company," said Hooker. "I'd take a chance with 'em any time--but if you go into their country with a Mexican escort they'll kill you on general principles. Say," he cried impulsively, "I'm going over to talk with Amigo!" With a broad grin on his honest face he advanced toward the giant Yaqui and shook hands ceremoniously. "Where you go?" he inquired in Spanish, at the same time rolling a cigarette and asking by a sign for a match. "Moctezuma," answered the Indian gravely. Then, as Bud offered him the makings, he, too, rolled a cigarette and they smoked for a minute in silence. "You live here?" inquired the Yaqui at last. "Come here," corrected Bud. "I have a mine--ten miles--over there." He pointed with the flat of his hand, Indian fashion, and Amigo nodded understandingly. He was a fine figure of a man, standing six feet or better in his well-cut sandals and handling his heavy Mauser as a child would swing a stick. Across his broad chest he wore a full cartridge-belt, and around his waist he had two more, filled to the last hole with cartridges and loaded clips. At his feet lay his blanket, bound into a tight roll, and a canteen and coffee-cup completed his outfit, which, so far as impedimenta were concerned, was simplicity itself. But instead of the cheap linen uniform of the Federals he was dressed in good American clothes--a striped shirt, overalls, and a sombrero banded with a bright ribbon--and in place of the beaten, hunted look of those poor conscripts he had the steady gaze of a free man. They stood and smoked for a few moments, talking briefly, and then, as the Yaquis closed up their ranks and marched off to make camp for the night, Bud presented his strange friend with the sack of tobacco and went back to join his pardner. That evening the plaza was filled with the wildest rumors, and another train arrived during the night, but through it all Bud and Phil remained unimpressed. In the morning the soldiers went marching off down the trail, leaving a great silence where all had been bugle-calls and excitement, and then the first fugitive came in from down below.