"Pesita
will not forgive you this. You've cost him eight men today
and he hasn't any more men than he needs at best. Besides
you've made a monkey of him and unless I miss my guess
you'll have to pay for it."
"No," said Billy, "I kind o' like this Pesita gent. I think I'll
stick around with him for a while yet. Anyhow until I've had
a chance to see his face after I've made my report to him.
You guys run along now and make your get-away good, an'
I'll beat it back to camp."
He crossed to where the two horses of the slain marksmen
were hidden, turned one of them loose and mounted the other.
"So long, boes!" he cried, and with a wave of his hand
wheeled about and spurred back along the trail over which
they had just come.
Miguel and Bridge watched him for a moment, then they,
too, mounted and turned away in the opposite direction.
Bridge recited no verse for the balance of that day. His heart
lay heavy in his bosom, for he missed Billy Byrne, and was
fearful of the fate which awaited him at the camp of the
bandit.
Billy, blithe as a lark, rode gaily back along the trail to
camp. He looked forward with unmixed delight to his coming
interview with Pesita, and to the wild, half-savage life which
association with the bandit promised.
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