“It may be. Who knows?”
“Quien sabe,” said Juan Delores. “But it was not Gunnison Bill dat be most dangerous. It was da odder. I know him—I know Anton Mescal!”
“Anton Mescal?” shouted Frank, leaping to his feet and clutching the man’s arm. “Good heavens! do you mean to tell me that the man with Gunnison Bill was Anton Mescal?”
“Dat his name. He come here an’ try to bluff me two days ago. I laugh at him. He swear he make me laugh some odder way. He try to keep his word.”
“Anton Mescal!” repeated Merry, in deep emotion. “And it was too dark for me to recognize the wretch who stole the message from me! Oh, if I had grappled with him, instead of Gunnison Bill!”
“Oh, if I had bored him with a bullet!” grated Hodge, who was even more excited than Merry.
“You know him?” questioned Delores.
“Know him?” said Frank. “I never saw the scoundrel but once in my life, but on that occasion he snatched from my hands the dying message sent me by my father, who, I believe, is buried in this valley.”
Delores could not help being impressed by the words and manner of the two young men.
“Dat why Anton Mescal come here an’ make him demand,” he said. “But he never succeed. Da boy is safe.”