"You can rope me if I'm not locoed!" he burst out. "I went out
to conciliate a red-handed little murderer, and damn me if I didn't
meet a--a--well, I've not suitable name handy. I started my bluff
and got along pretty well, but I forgot to mention that Mercedes
was Thorne's wife. And what do you think? Rojas swore he loved Mercedes--
swore he'd marry her right here in Forlorn River--swore he would give up
robbing and killing people, and take her away from Mexico. He has
gold--jewels. He swore if he didn't get her nothing mattered. He'd
die anyway without her....And here's the strange thing. I believe
him! He was cold as ice, and all hell inside. Never saw a Greaser
like him. Well, I pretended to be greatly impressed. We got to
talking friendly, I suppose, though I didn't understand half he
said, and I imagine he gathered less what I said. Anyway, without
my asking he said for me to think it over for a day and then we'd
talk again."
"Shore we're born lucky!" ejaculated Ladd.
"I reckon Rojas'll be smart enough to string his outfit across the
few trails leadin' out of Forlorn River," remarked Jim.
"That needn't worry us. All we want is dark to come," replied
Belding. "Yaqui will slip through. If we thank any lucky stars
let it be for the Indian....Now, boys, put on your thinking caps.
You'll take eight horses, the pick of my bunch. You must pack
all that's needed for a possible long trip. Mind, Yaqui may lead
you down into some wild Sonora valley and give Rojas the slip.
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