The prisoner’s eyes flashed again as he heard
this. He stood by sourly enough while the girls
explained more fully to the ranchman.
“All right! All right!” growled Mr.
Hammond. “If he is one of those that stampeded
the steers, he’ll see the inside of the jail.
I’d like to catch ’em all.”
The visitors made their way to bed as soon as they
had eaten their late supper; but Rhoda remained with
her father when he questioned the Mexican.
At first the prisoner refused to give any information
about himself or his business near Rose Ranch.
But being an old hand at that game, Mr. Hammond finally
made him see that it would be wiser for him to reply.
If he did not wish to get others into trouble, he
would better try to save himself.
And it soon appeared that the young Mexican did not
feel altogether kindly toward the men who had come
over the Border with him—whoever they were.
There had been some quarrel, and the others had abandoned
him, taking even his horse with them when they did
so.
“Were you with them when they ran off the Long
Bow stock?” asked Mr. Hammond.
“That was not done by us. We separated
from those thieves of horse-stealers when they would
put their necks in jeopardy,” the Mexican said
in his own tongue, which both Mr. Hammond and Rhoda
understood.
“So you kept out of that, heh? Then you
rode up this way?”
“Into the hills,” said the other sullenly.
“The country is free.”
“Not to such as you unless you can give a mighty
good reason for being over there. You and your
friends have cost me more’n a hundred steers.”
“Not me!” ejaculated the prisoner, shaking
his head.
“No?”
“I tell you they abandoned me. I do not
know where they go.”
“And what were you hanging about that place
over there in the hills for?” demanded Mr. Hammond.
“Come, now! Didn’t you give your
friends the slip because you wanted to hunt for that
old hidden treasure?”
“Senor!”
“Never mind denying it,” said the ranchman
sternly. “And I reckon I can make another
guess. You are Lobarto’s nephew. Your
name is Juan Sivello. I bet there’s a warrant
out for you in the sheriff’s office at Osaka
right now, my boy.”
The young Mexican jumped up, startled. Mr. Hammond
reached out a hand and pushed him back into his seat.
“Sit down, boy. You’d better make
a clean breast of it. I want to know all you
know about that old bandit’s hoard, or you’ll
go to the sheriffs office with me in the morning.
Take your choice.”
A TAMED OUTLAW
Rhoda had a great deal to tell her girl friends the
next morning. She came into their room before
even Nan was up, and curled down on one of the beds
to relate to an enormously interested trio all the
particulars of her father’s interrogation of
the Mexican prisoner.
