Jim Waring of Sonora-Town | Page 5

as they approached the adobe buildings of
the rancho. Vaca had drifted into a dull silence. Gray with suffering and
grim with hate for the gringo, he rode stolidly, praying incoherently
that the gunman might be stricken dead as he rode.
The raw edge of the disappearing sun leveled a long flame of crimson
across the mesa. The crimson melted to gold. The gold paled to a brief
twilight. A faint star twinkled in the north.
Dogs crowded forward in the dusk, challenging the strange riders. A
figure filled the lighted doorway of the Armigo ranch-house. The dogs
drew back.
Ramon dismounted and helped his uncle down. Waring sat his horse
until Juan Armigo stepped from the doorway and asked who came.
Waring answered with his name.

"Si! Si!" exclaimed Armigo. "The señor is welcome."
Waring dismounted. "Juan, I have two of your friends here; José Vaca
and Ramon Ortego."
Armigo seemed surprised. "José Vaca is wounded?" he queried
hesitatingly.
Waring nodded.
"And the horses; they shall have feed, water, everything--I myself--"
"Thanks. But I'll look after the horses, Juan. I'm taking Vaca and
Ramon to Sonora. See what you can do for Vaca. He's pretty sick."
"It shall be as the señor says. And the señor has made a fight?"
"With those hombres? Not this journey! José Vaca made a mistake;
that's all."
Armigo, perturbed, shuffled to the house. Waring unsaddled the horses
and turned them into the corral. As he lifted the saddle from Vaca's
horse, he hesitated. It was a big stock saddle and heavy; yet it seemed
too heavy. On his knees he turned it over, examining it. He smiled
grimly as he untied the little canvas sacks and drew them from the
tapaderas.
"Thought he showed too much boot for a hard-riding chola," muttered
Waring.
He rose and threw some hay to the horses. He could hear Ramon and
Armigo talking in the ranch-house. Taking his empty canteen from his
own saddle, he untied the sacks and slipped the gold-pieces, one by one,
into the canteen. He scooped up sand and filled the canteen half full.
The gold no longer jingled as he shook it.
While Waring had no fear that either of the men would attempt to
escape, he knew Mexicans too well to trust Armigo explicitly. A
thousand dollars was a great temptation to a poor rancher. And while

Armigo had always professed to be Waring's friend, sympathy of blood
and the appeal of money easily come by might change the placid face
of things considerably.
Waring strode to the house, washed and ate with Juan in the kitchen;
then he invited the Mexican out to the corral.
"José and Ramon are your countrymen, Juan."
"Si, señor. I am sorry for Ramon. This thing was not of his doing. He is
but a boy--"
Waring touched the other's arm. "There will be no trouble, Juan. Only
keep better track of your horses while I ride this part of the country."
"But--señor--"
"I've had business with you before. Two of your cayuses are astray
down the Agua Fria. One of them is dragging a maguey lead-rope."
"Señor, it is impossible!"
"No, it isn't! I know your brand. See here, Juan. You knew that Vaca
was trying to get away. You knew I'd be sent to get him. Why did you
let him take two spare horses?"
"But, señor, I swear I did not!"
"All right. Then when Ramon rode in here two days ago and asked you
for two horses, why didn't you refuse him? Why did you tell him you
would sell them, but that you would not lend them to him?"
"If Ramon says that, he lies. I told Ramon--"
"Thanks. That's all I want to know. I don't care what you told Ramon.
You let him take the horses. Now, I'm going to tell you something that
will be worth more to you than gold. Don't try to rope any stock
grazing round here to-night. I might wake up quick and make a mistake.
Men look alike in the moonlight--and we'll have a moon."

"It shall be as the señor says. It is fate."
"All right, amigo. But it isn't fate. It's making fool mistakes when you
or your countrymen tackle a job like Vaca tackled. Just get me a couple
of blankets. I'll sleep out here to-night."
Juan Armigo plodded to the adobe. The lamplight showed his face
beaded with sweat. He shuffled to an inner room, and came out with
blankets on his arm. Vaca lay on a bed-roll in the corner of the larger
room, and near him stood Ramon.
"The señor sleeps with the horses," said Armigo significantly.
Ramon bent his head and muttered a prayer.
"And if you pray," said Armigo, shifting the blankets from one arm to
the