The American demurred.
"But there is no shooting down in the valley," urged
Rozales.
"I think there will be," was Bridge's enigmatical reply, and
then, with a sudden exclamation of surprise he pointed over
Rozales' shoulder. "What's that?" he cried in a voice tense
with excitement.
The Mexican turned his head quickly in the direction
Bridge's index finger indicated.
"I see nothing," said Rozales, after a moment.
"You do now, though," replied Bridge, and as the Mexican's
eyes returned in the direction of his companion he was
forced to admit that he did see something--the dismal, hollow
eye of a six-shooter looking him straight in the face.
"Senor Bridge!" exclaimed Rozales. "What are you doing?
What do you mean?"
"I mean," said Bridge, "that if you are at all solicitous of
your health you'll climb down off that pony, not forgetting to
keep your hands above your head when you reach the
ground. Now climb!"
Rozales dismounted.
"Turn your back toward me," commanded the American,
and when the other had obeyed him, Bridge dismounted and
removed the man's weapons from his belt. "Now you may go,
Rozales," he said, "and should you ever have an American in
your power again remember that I spared your life when I
might easily have taken it--when it would have been infinitely
safer for me to have done it.
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