Valois rouses several tired friends. "My horse!" he yells. As he springs to the saddle, the sentinel tells him a friend disclosed the plot. Fear kept him silent till the mutineers stole away. "There are yet two hours to day. Is there time?" Maxime stretches out in the gallop of a skilled plainsman. He must save the priest and the women at least. The mutineers will wait till daylight for their swoop. They are mad with the thirst for the lost treasures of Joaquin. On, on, with the swing of the prairie wolf, the young leader gallops. He rides down man after man. As he gallops he thinks of Se¤ora Juanita, the defenceless priest, the wounded old Commandante, and the sweet blossoming beauty of the Sierras, star-eyed young Dolores. They must be saved. On, on! Day points over the hills as Maxime dashes into the unguarded plaza of the ranch. There are sounds of shots, yells, and trampling feet. He springs from his exhausted steed. The doors of the ranch-house give way. He rushes to the entrance, to find the rooms empty. In a moment he realizes the facts. He reaches the priest's house. Beating on the door, he cries: "Open quick! It is Valois." Springing inside he finds Padre Francisco, his eyes lit up with the courage of a gallant French gentleman. "They are all here," he gasps. "Safe?" queries Valois. "Yes." "Thank God!" Maxime cries. "Quick! Hurry them into the church. Hold the sacristy door." Maxime's two or three friends have followed him. The doors are closed behind them. The heavy adobe walls are shot-proof. The refuge of the church is gained none too soon. The mutineers spread through the padre's house. Pouring in through the sacristy passage, they are faced in the gray dawn by Valois, his eyes blazing. He holds a dragoon revolver in each hand. He is a dead shot. Yet the mutineers are fearless. "Give up the Greaser robber!" is their mad yell. "Never!" cries Valois. "He is old and foolish, but he shall not be abused. Let him answer to the law." "Captain," cries one, "we don't want to hurt you, but we are going to find Joaquin's plunder." "The first man who moves over this threshold is a dead man!" cries Valois. No one cares to be first, but they rage wildly. They all gather for a rush. Weapons are ominously clicking. As they come on, Padre Francisco stands before them, pale and calm in the morning light. "Kill me first, my friends," he says. His body covers Valois. The knot of desperate men stand back. They cannot shoot an unarmed priest, yet growling murmurs are heard: "Burn them out," "Go ahead." "Shoot the old Greaser." A sound of trampling hoofs drowns their cries. The main body of the detachment, stung with shame, have galloped back to rescue Valois. It is over. The mutineers sullenly retire in a body. Three hours later the detachment rides off. The rebels have wandered away. Guarded by the friends of the wild night-ride, Valois remains at Lagunitas.