Amazement and then fear were depicted in Jose’s face as he listened; he asserted his loyalty vehemently.

“Yes, yes, I know you love me,” the general agreed, carelessly.  “But what is far more to the point, I intend to pay well for your services.  Perhaps I shall also arrange so that you may have a reckoning with the murderer of your cousin.  What is his name?”

It was Jose’s opportunity to make an impression, and he used it to the full, telling all that he knew of the killing of Panfilo, and describing Law with the eloquence of hatred.

Longorio listened for a time, and then held up his hand.  “Enough.  For my sake, too, you shall kill him, for you have made me jealous.”

“Impossible!” Jose raised protesting palms.  He was sure the general was wrong.  Senora Austin was above suspicion of any kind.

“And yet this man met her in Pueblo and rode with her to Las Palmas?  He comes to see her frequently, you say?” The general bent his bright, keen eyes upon the visitor.

“Yes.  She gave him the finest horse at Las Palmas, too, and—­” A new thought presented itself to Jose.  “Ho!  By the way, they were alone at the water-hole when my cousin Panfilo was shot.  Now that I think of it, they were alone together for a day and a night.  I begin to wonder—­”

Longorio breathed an oath and swung his long legs over the edge of the bed.  “You have poisoned my mind.  A whole day and night, eh?  That is bad.  What happened?  What kind of a fool is her husband?  I cannot bear to think of this!  See, I am beside myself.  Caramba!  I live in paradise; I come flying on the wings of the wind, only to learn that my blessed divinity has a lover.  If only my excellent Blanco had shot this fellow Law instead of that Guzman!  If only I could lay hands upon him here in Mexico!  Ha!  There would be something to print in the American papers.”  He began to dress himself feverishly, muttering, as he did so:  “I will permit no one to come between us. ...  The thought kills me. ...  You bring me bad news, Jose, and yet I am glad you came.  I accept your offer, and you shall be my man henceforth; ... but you shall not go out to be shot by those rebels.  No, you shall return to Las Palmas to be my eyes and my ears, and, when the time comes, you shall be my hands, too. ...  I will avenge your cousin Panfilo for you, my word on that.  Yes, and I will make you a rich man.”

Jose listened hungrily to these promises.  He was relieved at the change in his plans, for, after all, a soldier’s life offered few attractions, and—­the food at Las Palmas was good.  The general promised him fine wages, too.  Truly, it was fortunate that he had come to Romero.

“Now we have settled this,” Jose’s new employer declared, “run away and amuse yourself until dark.  Then we will take a little journey by way of the old ferry.”

“It is not altogether safe,” ventured Jose.  “That country over there is alive with refugees.”