“A greaser!” exclaimed Rance, for the first time showing any interest in the proceedings; and then without looking up and after the manner of a man speaking to a good dog, he told the Deputy, who had followed Nick into the room: “Find him, Dep.” For some time the Girl occupied herself with cashing in the chips which Nick brought to her--a task which she performed with amazing correctness and speed considering that her knowledge of the science of mathematics had been derived solely from the handling of money at The Polka. Now she went over to Sonora, who sat at a table reading. “You got the newspaper, I see,” she observed. “But you, Trin, I’m sorry you ain’t got nothin’,” she added, with a sad, little smile. “So long!” hollered The Pony Express at that moment; whereupon, Ashby rushed over to the door and called after him: “Pony Express, I want you!” Satisfied that his command had been heard he retraced his footsteps and found Handsome peering eagerly over Sonora’s shoulder. “So, Sonora, you’ve got a newspaper,” Handsome was saying. “Yes, but the infernal thing’s two months old,” returned the other disgustedly. Handsome laughed, and wheeling round was just in time to see the door flung open and a young fellow advance towards Ashby. The Pony Express was a young man of not more than twenty years of age. He was smooth-faced and unshaven and, needless to say, was light of build, for these riders were selected for their weight as well as for their nerve. He wore a sombrero, a buckskin hunting-shirt, tight trousers tucked into high boots with spurs, all of which were weather-beaten and faded by wind, rain, dust and alkali. A pair of Colt revolvers could be seen in his holsters, and he carried in his hands, which were covered with heavy gloves, a mail pouch--it being the company’s orders not to let his _muchilo_ of heavy leather out of his hands for a second. “You drop mail at the greaser settlement?” inquired Ashby in his peremptory and incisive manner. “Yes, sir,” quickly responded the young man; and then volunteered: “It’s a tough place.” Ashby scrutinised the newcomer closely before going on with: “Know a girl there named Nina Micheltoreña?” But before The Pony Express had time to reply the Girl interposed scornfully: “Nina Micheltoreña? Why, they all know ’er! She’s one o’ them Cachuca girls with droopy, Spanish eyes! Oh, ask the boys about ’er!” And with that she started to leave the room, stopping on her way to clap both Trinidad and Sonora playfully on the back. “Yes, ask the boys about ’er, they’ll tell you!” And so saying she fled from the room, followed by the men she was poking fun at. “Hold her letters, you understand?” instructed Ashby who, with the Sheriff, was alone now with The Pony Express. “Yes, sir,” he replied earnestly. A moment later there being no further orders forthcoming he hastily took his leave. Ashby now turned his attention to Rance.