Billy had wheeled his pony around until he stood broadside toward Bridge. The latter fired scarce a second after Billy's shot had pinged so perilously close--fired at a perfect target but fifty yards away. At the sound of the report the robber's horse reared and plunged, then, wheeling and tottering high upon its hind feet, fell backward. Billy, realizing that his mount had been hit, tried to throw himself from the saddle; but until the very moment that the beast toppled over the man was held by his cartridge belt which, as the animal first lunged, had caught over the high horn of the Mexican saddle. The belt slipped from the horn as the horse was falling, and Billy succeeded in throwing himself a little to one side. One leg, however, was pinned beneath the animal's body and the force of the fall jarred the revolver from Billy's hand to drop just beyond his reach. His carbine was in its boot at the horse's side, and the animal was lying upon it. Instantly Bridge rode to his side and covered him with his revolver. “Don't move,” he commanded, “or I'll be under the painful necessity of terminating your earthly endeavors right here and now.” “Well, for the love o' Mike!” cried the fallen bandit. “You?” Bridge was off his horse the instant that the familiar voice sounded in his ears. “Billy!” he exclaimed. “Why--Billy--was it you who robbed the bank?” Even as he spoke Bridge was busy easing the weight of the dead pony from Billy's leg. “Anything broken?” he asked as the bandit struggled to free himself. “Not so you could notice it,” replied Billy, and a moment later he was on his feet. “Say, bo,” he added, “it's a mighty good thing you dropped little pinto here, for I'd a sure got you my next shot. Gee! it makes me sweat to think of it. But about this bank robbin' business. You can't exactly say that I robbed a bank. That money was the enemy's resources, an' I just nicked their resources. That's war. That ain't robbery. I ain't takin' it for myself--it's for the cause--the cause o' poor, bleedin' Mexico,” and Billy grinned a large grin. “You took it for Pesita?” asked Bridge. “Of course,” replied Billy. “I won't get a jitney of it. I wouldn't take none of it, Bridge, honest. I'm on the square now.” “I know you are, Billy,” replied the other; “but if you're caught you might find it difficult to convince the authorities of your highmindedness and your disinterestedness.” “Authorities!” scoffed Billy. “There ain't no authorities in Mexico. One bandit is just as good as another, and from Pesita to Carranza they're all bandits at heart. They ain't a one of 'em that gives two whoops in hell for poor, bleedin' Mexico--unless they can do the bleedin' themselves. It's dog eat dog here. If they caught me they'd shoot me whether I'd robbed their bank or not. What's that?” Billy was suddenly alert, straining his eyes back in the direction of Cuivaca.