Ben shook his head.
"No can tell. Ben not know him. Two young men; others older."
From a pocket the Mexican drew a pistol, which he examined, making sure it was in perfect working order. His usually handsome face wore a look that transformed it, while there was a deadly glitter in his black eyes.
"Listen, Ben," he said; "I will describe the hated gringo to you. If he is near, I wish to find the opportunity to meet him again face to face. Twice he has nearly destroyed me, but my escapes have told me my life is charmed, and I know it is next his turn. When again we meet I'll leave him food for the wolves, with this in his heart!"
He suddenly produced and flourished a keen dagger. His description of Frank was accurate and flattering, for he confessed that the young American was handsome and manly in appearance, with a resolute face and a fearless eye. He declared that the redskin could not mistake Merriwell, as the very appearance of the latter proclaimed him a leader among his companions.
"Of course," he added, "I wish no chance to face him in company with many of his friends, but I pray the Virgin he may give me the opportunity alone."
"Not much chance," grunted Red Ben. "How gal?"
"She is wonderful in her courage and defiance. Never did I see her equal, and it is this spirit that makes me love her all the more. How long do you think we'll have to hide here in the cave, Ben?"
"Can't stay long. Little grub."
"If necessary you could bring food at night."