Morales said nothing for a moment, and Appleby surmised that he was wondering how many of his men had remained loyal. Then he made a little impatient gesture. “Well,” he said, “what do you want from me?” “A very little thing, señor. No more than the liberty of a certain peon, Domingo Pereira. I do not ask the freedom of these friends of mine. That, as you can comprehend, is unnecessary.” A little gleam crept into the officer’s dark eyes. “It is a trifle difficult to understand why you place yourself under an obligation to me in respect to the peon Pereira. If there is a mutiny in the cuartel, why not take him?” “It is simple. The affair is one that we wish to arrange quietly, but there are one or two sections who will take no part with us, and the Sergeant Suarez is an obdurate loyalist. All we ask is an order for the handing over of the prisoner to the guard. That, since it will not be known when they mutinied, will cast no discredit upon the Colonel Morales.” “And if I should not think fit to sign it?” The tobacco merchant shrugged his shoulders. “One would recommend you to reflect,” he said. “Between two Spanish gentlemen who have no wish for unpleasantness that should be sufficient. Still, you see before you three determined men and you have proof that your guard has mutinied. It is convenient that you write the order.” “You want nothing more?” “No, señor. To be frank, my friends have no intention of seizing the cuartel. We are not in a position to hold it just now.” Morales tore a strip of paper from a pad, scribbled upon it and flung it across the table to the tobacco merchant, who passed it to Appleby. “You will hand that to the soldier outside,” he said. “He will come back and report when he has delivered the prisoner to the guard.” Appleby went out, and the tobacco merchant laid the pistol down. “It was an unpleasant necessity,” he said. “Still, one can dispense with it now we have arrived at an understanding.” Harper laughed as he clenched his big hands on the back of the chair he leaned upon. “If the distinguished gentleman tries to get up something will happen to him,” he said. “I have been figuring just where I could get him with the leg of this.” Morales made a little gesture of disgust. “The Señor Harper does not understand us. One has objections to anything unseemly, señor. I have a fancy that I have seen you in other places than the hacienda San Cristoval.” “In Alturas Pass—and elsewhere,” said the tobacco merchant with a smile. “I once had the honor of meeting the Colonel Morales in the street below us. At that time he had a sword in his hand.” Morales’ face grew very grim, but he held himself in hand. “Yes. I remember now,” he said. “The leader of the Sin Verguenza—Don Maccario?”