For one awful moment Hooker saw himself betrayed by his friend, either through weakness or through guile; and then his mind straightened itself and he remembered that Phil was in jail. What more natural, then, than that the _rurales_ should search his pockets and give the ore to Aragon? He stooped and picked up the chunk of rock--that precious, pocket-worn specimen that had brought them the first sure promise of success--and wiped it on his sleeve. Mechanically he placed it beside the other piece which Aragon had gouged from the ledge, and while he gazed at them he wondered what to do--to leave their mine and go to his friend, or to let his friend wait and stand guard by their treasure--and his heart told him to go to his friend. So he swung up on his horse and followed slowly, and as soon as it was dark he rode secretly through Old Fortuna and on till he came to the jail. It was a square stone structure, built across the street from the _cantina_ in order to be convenient for the drunks, and as Bud rode up close and stared at it, some one hailed him through the bars. "Hello there, pardner," called Hooker, swinging down and striding over to the black window, "how long have they had you in here?" "Two days," answered Phil from the inner darkness; "but it seems like a lifetime to me. Say, Bud, there's a Mexican in here that's got the jim-jams--regular _tequila_ jag--can't you get me out?" "Well, I sure will!" answered Bud. "What have they got you in for? Where's our friend, Don Juan? Why didn't he let me know?" "You can search me!" railed De Lancey. "Seems like everybody quits you down here the minute you get into trouble. I got arrested night before last by those damned _rurales_--Manuel Del Rey was behind it, you can bet your life on that--and I've been here ever since!" "Well, what are you pinched for? Who do I go and see?" "Pinched for nothing!" cried De Lancey bitterly. "Pinched because I'm a Mexican citizen and can't protect myself! I'm _incomunicado_ for three days!" "Well, I'll get you out, all right," said Hooker, leaning closer against the bars. "Here, have a smoke--did they frisk you of your makings?" "No," snapped De Lancey crossly, "but I'm out of everything by this time. Bud, I tell you I've had a time of it! They threw me in here with this crazy, murdering Mexican and I haven't had a wink of sleep for two days. He's quiet now, but I don't want any more." "Well, say," began Bud again, "what are you charged with? Maybe I can grease somebody's paw and get you out tonight!" There was an awkward pause at this, and finally De Lancey dropped his white face against the bars and his voice became low and beseeching. "I'll tell you, Bud," he said, "I haven't been quite on the square with you--I've been holding out a little. But you know how it is--when a fellow's in love. I've been going to see Gracia!" "Oh!" commented Hooker, and stood very quiet while he waited.