The next night, when he stood in the shadow of the rock ledge and waited, he was not startled by the unexpected presence of the person he wanted to see. For although Bill Holmes came as cautiously as he knew how, and avoided the wide, bright-lighted stretches of arroyo where he would have been plainly visible, Ramon both saw and heard him before he reached the ledge. What Ramon did not see or hear was Annie-Many-Ponies, who did not quite believe that those two wished merely to talk about a silver bridle, and who meant to listen and find out why it was that they could not talk openly before all the boys. Annie-Many-Ponies had ways of her own. She did not tell Ramon that she doubted his word, nor did she refuse to deliver the message. She waited calmly until Bill Holmes left camp stealthily that night, and she followed him. It was perfectly simple and sensible and the right thing to do; if you wanted to know for sure whether a person lied to you, you had but to watch and listen and let your own eyes and ears prove guilt or innocence. So Annie-Many-Ponies stood by the rock and listened and watched. She did not see any silver bridle. She heard many words, but the two were speaking in that strange Spanish talk which she did not know at all, save “Querida mia,” which Ramon had told her meant sweetheart. The two talked, low-voiced and earnest, Bill was telling all that he knew of Luck Lindsay's plans--and that was not much. “He don't talk,” Bill complained. “He just tells the bunch a day ahead--just far enough to get their makeup and costumes on, generally. But he won't stay around here much longer; he's taken enough spring roundup stuff now for half a dozen pictures. He'll be moving in to the ranch again pretty quick. And I know this picture calls for a lot of town business that he'll have to take. I saw the script the other day.” This, of course, being a free translation of the meaningless jumble of strange words which Annie heard. “What town business is that? Where will he work?” Ramon was plainly impatient of so much vagueness. “Well, there's a bank robbery--I paid particular attention, Ramon, so I know for certain. But when he'll do it, or what bank he'll use, I don't know any more than you do. And there's a running fight down the street and through the Mexican quarter. The rest is just street stuff--that and a fiesta that I think he'll probably me the old plaza for location. He'll need a lot of Mexicans for that stuff. He'll want you, of course.” “That bank--who will do that?” Ramon's fingers trembled so that he could scarcely roll a cigarette. “Andy, perhaps?”