The pantomime bore a money value, for Murguia stifled his wrath, again drew out the belt, and more Napoleons changed hands. Murguia was then for remounting, leaving the flask of brandy with the two imperialist emissaries, as had become his custom. But the jovial Tiburcio stopped him. "What must you think of us, Don Anastasio?" he exclaimed contritely. "We haven't offered you a drink yet." Murguia dared not refuse, and he paused for the return of hospitality from his own bottle. At last he was on his horse, when Tiburcio again called. "I say, Don Anastasio, if you want a big return for your money"--Don Anastasio halted instantly--"if you do, well, we ought not to say it, being devoted to Maximiliano. But no matter, I will tell you this much, poor old man--look after your daughter! Look after her, Don Anastasio! We've just come from up there." A half cry escaped the father as he jerked back his horse. He demanded what they meant. He pleaded. But they waved him to go on, and rode away indifferently, taking a cross trail through a stretch of timber. Rigid, motionless, Murguia looked after them until they had disappeared. But when they were gone, a frenzy possessed him. He turned and galloped to his caravan, which was again moving. He did not stop till he reached the American. "You owe me two hundred dollars," he cried. Thus his decent emotion concerning his daughter found vent. "Two hundred, I tell you!" "Will you," asked Driscoll, "take 'em now, or after you tell me what I owe 'em for?" Murguia wavered. The simple question brought him to his senses. But he had gone too far not to explain. Besides, his insane device for reimbursing himself appealed to him as good. "Because--don't you know, senor, that travelers here must pay toll? You don't? But it's true, and--and I've just paid out two hundred pesos on Your Mercy's account." The trooper's brown eyes flashed. "Which way did those thieves go?" he demanded. "Quick! Which way?" Murguia's avarice changed to trembling. He feared to tell. Driscoll caught his bridle. "Which way, or by--by--Never mind, you'll pay toll to me, too! I'll just learn this toll-taking trade myself." Murguia saw a six-shooter sliding out. "You also!" he cried. "Also?" laughed Driscoll. "There, I knew it, they were robbers." He wheeled and rode back with the fury of a cavalry charge, heedless of Murguia's cries to stop by all the saints, heedless of the saints too. Murguia did not care what happened to his guest, but he cared for what might happen to himself, afterward, at the hands of Don Tiburcio and partner. He frantically called out that he was jesting, that Driscoll owed him nothing. But Driscoll had already turned into the side trail, and was following the hoof prints there. Murguia could hear the furious crackling of twigs as he raced through the timber. But in a little while he heard and saw nothing.